 
### THE DAYS BEYOND

### By

### Wayne Roux

THE DAYS BEYOND

Published by Wayne Roux at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 Wayne Roux

**Special Acknowledgement** : Editing and Proofreading by M.D. Meyer

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author.

Thank you for your support.
What others have had to say about THE DAYS BEYOND...

. "Firstly, I can't believe this is a first novel... It really is that good. If you enjoy your murder and intrigue with a twist of the unusual, this is definitely for you. This is edgier, starker than a Stephen King read. It races along like a high-speed chase, with many unexpected twists and turns. You're never really sure whether you are here or there and you want, no NEED, to find out, that is the beauty of the style it is written in, it is both real and surreal. A cracking good plot - a genuine page turner! PS. The characters are really well developed and the occasional reference to local culture and history keeps it highly believable." - **Joni Proper**

"I would urge anyone to give this book a go, it is really well researched and written and the imaginings seem perfectly plausible in their context. I'm so glad I read it and I often find myself thinking about the book, a sure indicator that it has a good storyline and memorable characters. I look forward to reading more by this author!" - **Pamela Macmahon**

This book is dedicated to my two dream catchers, Joelene and Michaela. Without realizing it, you have completed me...
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day

To the last syllable of recorded time,

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

The way to dusty death.

\- William Shakespeare – Macbeth

Time is on my side, yes it is.

\- The Rolling Stones

### Chapter 1

I was punched in the stomach and had my wind knocked out in 6th Grade by David Macintyre. It was in Mr. Leroy's home class. I remember it as clear as day, even though it was 28 years ago. I don't remember the reason for it of course, it may have had something to do with the fact that I thought I was better looking than he was, although I'm just guessing, and am probably biased. What I do remember is how it felt. It fucking hurt! I remember collapsing to my knees, struggling to breathe, this ball of pain rolling around my midriff like a runaway marble spinning top, as my lungs struggled to inflate to a point where they could ingest oxygen again. I remember tears coming to my eyes, and that probably hurt the most because the classroom was full of other children, most of them laughing. I was by no means the most popular kid in school either, in fact, I was way too small for my age, I had coke-bottle thick spectacles, and greasy hair parted to the side, Face from The A-Team style. David Macintyre was twice my size. He had Greek features, beautiful hair, lean and tanned and he was a First team Rugby player, even though he was a year too young, but I think even the teachers at President Primary weren't going to tell him that to his face!

It was also the first time I'd been in a fight, if you can call it that. When only one punch is thrown it's more like an ambush, I guess. I was in a couple more after that, mostly on the losing end for a couple of years, until I grew a small pair. However, it was the punch from David Macintyre that I remember the most. In addition, it was particularly relevant right now, as I lay on the floor again, clutching my stomach, struggling to breathe. The only difference this time was the blood pulsing through my fingers as I lay holding my ruptured stomach. Blood has a weird smell, have you noticed? It's similar to the smell of a rusted piece of metal up close, and for some reason it reminded me of watermelons as well. It's also stickier than you'd think. Unlike the few moments of excruciating pain I experienced thanks to my primary school classmate, the pain I had now was not subsiding.

I guess I was fading in and out of consciousness, because there were moments of darkness during which I don't recall thinking any thoughts. As I'd fade back into reality, akin to walking through a fine African morning mist, the blinding headache would return. The sensation of the blood soaked carpet under my head seemed to press into and right through me, as that awful blood smell would encase me once again.

My horizontal view from my position on the floor was of the front door of my house. It was early morning; I knew that from the sliver of light trying to creep in beneath the door. I'm not sure exactly what day it was today, which is weird, because I'm usually intently aware of things like that. I heard a car being driven by in the street outside, it sounded like my neighbor's beat up old Mazda Soho with the hole in the silencer... Hard to miss! Which meant it was probably a weekday, because that lazy shit wouldn't be out of the house at sunrise on a weekend unless they were giving away free chicken at KFC. Therefore, that narrowed it down to somewhere between Monday and Friday. I could be related to Sherlock Holmes!

As I focused my blurred gaze away from the front door and along the floor towards me, my eyes stopped at a small object lying on the carpet about six feet away from me, near the leg of the sofa. It was round and silver, like a ball bearing, only much bigger, with two finger-sized indentations on either side. I tried to make sense of what I was seeing, but all I could wonder was what the hell an oversized ball bearing was doing lying around on my lounge floor? My wife would have a...

Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. Jackie!

Oh Jesus!

My mind started flopping about like a fish fresh out of the water, trying with all its might to get back into the ocean and breathe, breathe, breathe! The image of her face was as clear as daylight suddenly, her long flowing black hair, green eyes that turned grey when she was in a certain mood, that smile that had the ability to grab my heart and twist it into a pretzel in an instant. I could remember the day we met, the day we got married, the day we fucked like spring rabbits after getting high on some quality weed at her sister's 21st... it was all there. For some reason I just couldn't remember what we did yesterday or maybe even the day or week before today... and even more frightening, where she was right now while I was bleeding out on the living room floor! I forced myself to roll over, and it was the hardest thing I had ever tried to do in my life! My muscles were not responding, refusing to react to the messages from my brain. Even the slightest movement of my torso sent a piercing slice of pain through my stomach, and I could feel the darkness creeping in around the edge of my blurring vision as my head tried to change its view of the doorway. Then it closed in completely. The darkness.

### * * *

I crawled back into the light again a while later. This time the room seemed brighter, which meant some time had passed, enough time so that the sunlight had reached the windows and entered the house. It also appeared that in my attempt at changing position I had managed to change my view of the front door to a view of the ceiling. My throat was dry. So dry. That didn't matter right now though. Jackie was all I could think about. I shifted my hand into position at my side, to give myself some leverage to turn over again, and I felt the cold hard steel of an object lying next to me. I traced my fingers over it, and they quickly sent the recognition via touch to my brain... a knife. Long triangular blade, handle shaped to fit comfortably in the palm, sturdy and professional. Even though I could not see it, I recognized it as part of the collection of Arcos kitchen knives I'd bought for Jackie a couple of years ago. This was the biggest of them, a butcher knife.

As my fingers followed the trace of the handle, my hand touched something softer. It felt strangely familiar, yet somehow different. As I moved my hand over it, an ice cold, sinking feeling enveloped me, running from the base of my neck down my spine and to my motionless legs, and along with it a combination of fear and utter despair. It was the shape of a human hand.

Her hand. Ice cold.

I knew she was dead before I even looked. I could feel it in the texture of the cold skin of her hand, so motionless and lifeless. Not at all like the hands that used to clasp my neck tenderly when we would kiss, standing on her tiptoes, or like the hands that would curl over my sleeping chest at night, pulling me closer to her. Not those hands. Not these hands now. I couldn't stop myself from letting out a choking gasp, and a tear welled up in the corner of my eye and then traced a wet and warm path down the side of my face. I wanted to believe that when I turned my head to look, it would be somebody else's hand attached to somebody else's lifeless body, but I already knew that wasn't going to be the case. It was another sensation in my stomach... not the pain from the bleeding wound, or the memory of a bullying fist... it was almost transcendent and unnatural... a certainty that had wrapped itself around my every cell and was banging on the walls of my stomach cavity and soul. Intuition. A gut feeling. I just knew, without any doubt, before I even turned my head...

She was still beautiful. Her hair had fallen across her face, gently resting on the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were closed, seeming peacefully at rest. The once graceful curve of her neck flowed down into her open nightgown, a stark pale grey against the bright pink of the gown, yet the thick black belt pulled so tightly around it seemed completely out of place. One of her breasts were exposed, beautifully curved and shaped to fit my hand, her nipple, once a playground for my mouth, now just a dark reminder of life no more. Jackie Melissa Hesse, thirty-three old, a confident, beautiful, charismatic self-employed dressmaker, a devoted wife to Lionel James Hesse – a thirty-nine year old nerdy mathematics lecturer at the University of Fort Hare who now lies in a pool of his own blood, stabbed in the stomach by... by whom? The only logical thing I could think of right now was that she had stabbed me, but that seemed like a crazy man's thoughts. Why would she have? What about the belt around her neck? Was that my doing? It seemed impossible; yet looking at the two of us laying here on our living room floor it seemed to be the only logical, yet insane, conclusion.

With my head twisted round, to stare at her body, my throat wanted to close up, and I coughed violently, spewing fine drops of scarlet mist. This must be it. The end of Lionel Hesse - a man who never really amounted to much, except wife killer. I curled back over to my side, fetal position, staring once again at the gap under the front door. It seemed fitting that I would die in a pool of my own blood, that it would be a deserved reward for killing the only woman I had ever loved - strangled to death with a R25.00 rip-off leather belt I had bought at the flea market three months ago. There was no more pain. No more burning sensation from my bleeding stomach. No more head-stomping migraine. The darkness flirted around the edge of my vision again. I stared beyond the out of place silver ball bearing, beyond the creamy field of carpet fibers, beyond the brightly lit gap at the bottom of the door, stared out into the world beyond, as that darkness crept closer, closer still.

Shadows were moving out there, distant muffled voices as if played back on slow motion tape recorders, the knock knocking of imaginary fists on wood... I closed my eyes and welcomed the escape offered by death... come in my friend! The fading sound of the voices and imaginary knocking sound again...

"Fuck you, David Macintyre," I whispered, just before it all went away.

"You hit like a pussy...

### Chapter 2

The beeping was driving me crazy. In the darkness, I heard it. At first it was very faint and far away, but slowly it became closer and louder. The complete darkness had also started fading into a grey black hue, and small flashes of maroon behind my eyelids were keeping time with the incessant beeping. I was going to Hell, I realised, in the back of a truck, driving in reverse. The noises got louder, a whoosh of sound that seemed to pour into my skull like liquid. There were hushed voices, telephones ringing in the distance. The sound of cars on a road. The click clicking of a ceiling fan. Then there was that beeping noise which matched the tempo of my heartbeat exactly, filling my inner ear cavities with a warm pressure, weighing my body down, as if gravity had just realised I wasn't tethered to anything and decided to grab me before I lifted off.

I was on my back, in a bed, that much I was sure of now. I could feel the soft pressing of a mattress beneath me, could smell the crisp freshness of sterilized sheets, and the gentle hug of a blanket over my legs and torso. My arms felt stiff and heavy, and I tried moving them, but I must have been too weak, as nothing happened. My eyelids felt as if they were sealed together with superglue, and it took a fair amount of will to force them open. The light was so bright it actually hurt, so I scrunched them closed again, only to part them slightly, allowing the light to filter through in stages, until it could behave itself inside my cranium instead of throwing shards of glass at it. The white became grey, and the grey became a blurred pastel blend of colors. These seemed to dance around and through each other, fast at first, and then slowly coming to a standstill – a silent musical chairs game. These colors became shapes, which became objects. A doorway. The foot of a bed. A blue curtain. A washbasin. Then there were people. Three of them.

The faces took a moment to become clearly visible, and when they did I realised I did not know any of these people. A tall, middle-aged man, in a white coat, stethoscope around his neck, cleared his throat, and I focused my gaze on him.

"Mr. Hesse? Can you hear me?"

I nodded. My neck was stiff, and the motion seemed to pull at my stomach muscles in an unnatural way, as if my spine were attached to my internal organs somehow.

"Excellent!" he said. "My name is Dr. Venter. Do you know what happened to you?"

"Where..." I had to swallow several times in an attempt to lubricate my parched throat, so the word was almost a whisper. Dr. Venter reached towards my bedside, and lifted a glass of water to my lips.

"Small sips." he said.

I swallowed some water with difficulty, and it was the best thing I'd ever tasted in my life - sweeter than I'd ever known water to be. It coated my mouth and throat and the cold of it was unbelievably soothing.

"Thank you." I whispered a little less raspy this time, before clearing my throat. "Where am I?"

"St Dominic's Hospital" The good doctor replied, and then added "East London."

I nodded. I knew the hospital. It was one of the flagship hospitals for the Life Group in my home town of East London, South Africa. St Dominic's was a private hospital catering for high care and trauma patients, with a collection of specialists in residence around the building and adjoining parking lot. It had won several awards for service excellence in the Eastern Cape Province, as well as a national award from the South African Department of Health. I had no doubt I was in good hands here.

"Is he strong enough to answer questions yet?"

The voice was very masculine, a thick South African accent wrapped around the words as they were spoken. I turned my head to the left, and the second person in the room was a giant of a man, wearing a button up pale blue shirt, navy blue tie. There were sweat stains under his armpits, and his expansive belly pressed against the buttons of his shirt, as if the slightest bit of pressure or movement was going to send them rocketing off into someone's eyeball at any moment. He was holding a flip up notepad, and on his belt, I could see the familiar badge of the South African Police Service. His hair was cut short, right to the skin, in an effort to hide the fact that he was balding quickly, I guessed. A uniformed police officer stood a few paces behind him.

"Not yet" Dr. Venter replied. "Give us some time to examine him first. He's been unconscious for three days. I would need to run an MRI as well"

The giant grunted, and snapped his notepad closed.

"Mr. Lionel Hesse, you have been charged with the first degree murder. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say, can and, will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be granted to you by the state. Do you understand you rights?"

An ice-cold rush of fear travelled down my body, as I remembered the bloody carpet and my dead wife, which I had almost believed to be a distant faded dream, and it all suddenly clicked into place. Images of Jackie's lifeless body flashed briefly before me, and a sense of utter despair came over me. I nodded.

The large man gestured to the uniformed police officer who approached the bed with a set of leg irons. He promptly attached them to my ankles, locking them in place. The giant leaned over the bed, bringing his face to within inches of mine, staring into my eyes. I could smell faint traces of garlic, and a persistent stench of sweat.

"I'll be seeing you later then, Mr. Hesse." He said, and the tone of his voice left an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach. "My name is Detective Sergeant Coetzee. I have some questions that still need answering. I will be leaving a uniformed police officer outside the door to keep an eye on you. Don't go anywhere." the Detective said, with a grin that was unpleasantly non-friendly. He turned to Dr. Venter. "So I can come back when?"

"This evening around 7pm should be fine."

Coetzee winked at me before gliding out of the room, and it was strange to see such a big person move with such grace. Dr. Venter closed the door behind him and the uniformed officer and then came over to the bed. He lifted a clipboard, with a ballpoint pen attached to it on a string, off a hook on the wall above me and proceeded to make some notes.

"What day is it?" I asked him.

"Thursday"

"Fuck me!" I noticed the lifted eyebrow of the good doctor at my cursing, and smiled. "Sorry. Habit"

"Do you know what happened to you, Mr. Hesse?"

"Please, call me Lionel. Mr. Hesse was my alcoholic father. And no, I have no idea."

"You sustained an injury to your abdomen which ruptured your appendix and spleen, narrowly avoiding several major organs and arteries along the way. You're very lucky to be alive. Aside from that and a minor concussion from a bump on the head, you're going to be fine."

"Injury?" I asked in trepidation.

"A knife wound. Deep."

The realization that it wasn't just a bad dream fell like a satin sheet over me. I was almost too afraid to ask the next question, but I had to know for sure.

He lifted my eyelids with his fingers and shone a small pencil light into my eyes. "Are you experiencing any headaches or blurred vision?"

"Yes." I replied. "It's a constant headache. Not the vision, though, that's fine. Did she... suffer? My wife?"

"I'm afraid I can't answer that. The Medical Examiner did the autopsy." I could hear shortness in his voice, which was to be expected, I guess. Having to answer the questions of a murderer was probably not high on his list of daily priorities. "What about any other side effects, aside from your abdominal pain?"

"Not really. Just the headache, I guess."

"You are recovering well, Mr. Hesse. We have had you on a catheter and an intravenous drip. I'll get one of the nurses to come and take them out a bit later. We'll start with some solid foods at dinnertime tonight. I'll also run some more tests tomorrow just to confirm that everything is okay, and then a few days bed rest before you can go home..." He paused, then almost embarrassed, added "Well, you know what I mean."

I nodded. There would be no home for me. Except for prison, I guess.

"I'm not a bad person, you know."

The doctor shrugged his shoulders. "It's not for me to decide. I'm going to give you something to help you sleep. You need the rest."

I turned my head to the side and closed my eyes while Dr. Venter filled a syringe with some clear fluid. I tried to remember what had happened at the house. The closest memory, aside from waking up on the floor, was having lunch with Andre North, one of the lecturers at the University. That was a Thursday, a regular tradition for Andre and I. So, if I had been asleep for three days, and I was found on the Monday, what the hell happened between Thursday and Sunday? My mind was a complete blank.

"Is it normal to have memory loss?" I asked, as Dr. Venter injected the syringe into my intravenous line.

"A few days memory loss is quite normal." He replied. "How far back can you remember?"

"My last memory was Thursday last week, and then a blank page until Monday morning."

"It's quite normal. Your memories should return in time."

I nodded, as the drugs started taking effect I could feel the darkness creeping in around the edges of my vision. "2010 has been a fucked up year, doc."

Dr. Venter came closer to my face, and turned his ear towards me. "Say again?"

"Sorry. My bad. It's been a bad year. 2010 has been a bad year" I really needed to control my foul mouth!

"Mr. Hesse." He paused, as the medication kicked in and darkness closed in and cuddled me as a child cuddles his favorite black teddy bear. From what seemed to be a long, long way away, he added, "I'm sorry to tell you this, but its 2013, not 2010..."

I wanted to respond to the ridiculous statement, but it was too late for that, and for some reason I didn't seem to care... I had already started hugging Mr. Darkie, and he had covered me in his shaded teddy bear warmth completely, while in the distance the rest of the doctor's words faded into silence.

### Chapter 3

I started coming around from my drug induced coma sleep sometime later in the afternoon. The transition from oblivion to reality was a lot smoother and clearer than my previous awakenings, and I guess this meant I was feeling better, what with not losing all my blood and everything. At first, I thought the hospital was drifting free from its foundations, but then I realised that it was my hospital bed that was moving. As I opened my eyes the ceiling lights of the hospital hallways passed by overhead, and it was a calming, almost hypnotic sight. I looked up and back at the Porter who was wheeling me through the sterile halls, and he was intently focused on whatever music was playing through his iPod. I could just barely hear the high-pitched cymbals and tapping of some or other house or hip-hop music coming from the in-ear phones he was wearing. It was good to hear music, even though it was barely audible. I couldn't remember when last I had listened to any. There seemed to be a lot I could not remember lately!

I raised my hand to get the Porter's attention and he looked down at me, pulling one of his earphones out.

"Aaah, you're awake!" He said.

"Hi." I replied. "Tell me buddy... what year is it?"

The Porter chuckled. "Ha-ha. It's the year of the Snake my man... at least that's what the Chinese believe!"

"Seriously dude?"

"I'm only kidding my man! It's 2013 of course! Nigeria just won the African Cup of Nations 1 - 0! Do you watch much soccer?"

I closed my eyes. I had heard Dr. Venter correctly then. How on earth could it be 2013 already? My last clear memory dated back to 2010, so how have I managed to forget almost three years of my life? Everything I thought I knew about myself has either changed or was completely wrong! As far as I'm concerned, I am working at Fort Hare University as a Mathematics Lecturer. I am married to Jackie Melissa Hesse, and have been for twelve years. I have no kids because Jackie couldn't have any, and I was okay with that. I drive a 1998 Volvo V40 Station Wagon, which needs a service and new tyres. We live in a house in Beacon Bay, overlooking the Nahoon River Valley. I have very few friends, because there just really isn't time for more than a few. My closest colleague and friend is Andre North, who also lectures at the University, and I hang out occasionally with my brother in law, Alistair, who loves fishing. My wife is a dressmaker and runs her own business altering and making wedding dresses. That is who I am and what I know!

The Porter had reached my room, and wheeled me in past the bored looking uniformed black police officer who had taken residence on a chair outside my door, set my bed up, and puffed my pillow. He took the clipboard from the foot of my bed and hung it up on the wall again.

"Chill, Mr. Hesse. Doc will be in to see you in a couple of minutes."

"Thanks." I replied, and then added. "Hey, can I get a newspaper?"

"Sure thing" He said then left the room.

I took the opportunity to study my accommodation. I was in a private room. A window to my right had heavy blue curtains, which were pulled back allowing warm sunlight to brighten the room. The walls were painted a pale blue color, and there was a door to my left, which I'm assuming, led to the bathroom. On my bedside was a table with a jug of cold water and an empty glass. There were no flowers or cards, as you'd expect to see at the bedside of a hospital patient. I found this strange, as surely Alistair and Naomi, Jackie's brother and his wife, would have come to see me by now? But then again, I did supposedly murder his sister... and what about Andre North from the University?

The Porter returned with a newspaper. "Would you like anything else?"

"I'm good. Thank you."

"Okay." He shrugged and left the room.

The local newspaper was The Daily Dispatch, and I folded it open so that I could read the headlines and date. There it was, in black and white. February 14th, 2013. Valentine's Day. The headline was: MASS ACTION AGAINST E-TOLLS. What the hell were E-Tolls? I wondered, as I read a bit of the story, and discovered that the South African Government was attempting to install micro-chips into vehicles that would be scanned as they passed certain checkpoints along the South African highways, and once scanned would automatically charge the vehicle owner a toll-fee. This was designed to fund the maintenance of national roads. Public opinion on it was that it was unfair as the general public had not been given a chance to review or give feedback on the system, and they were now holding mass actions across the country, blocking roads and marching to Provincial Traffic offices.

I folded the newspaper with one hand, and tossed it down towards the foot of the bed. Resting my head back in my pillow, I closed my eyes and tried to force any sort of memory of the past two and a half years out of the recesses of my brain. I clearly remember having lunch with Andre North on that Thursday. I clearly remember going home after work and Jackie had made macaroni and cheese for supper. I clearly remember eating on the couch with her, while we watched an episode of Dexter Season 5, where Dexter was dealing with Rita's death and Quinn's irritating inquest against him. I clearly remember Jackie and me heading to bed after that episode, and making love before falling asleep in each other's arms. Those are my memories. After that, I can't seem to remember anything, except from the moment that I woke up on the floor with Jackie's dead body beside me. Anyone trying to convince me that there were almost three years between that Thursday night with Jackie and the Monday morning waking up covered in blood would have a hard time doing so. Yet here it was staring me in the face. It was 2013. I was chained in a hospital bed recovering from a stab wound, inflicted by my wife Jackie, who I had apparently murdered by strangling her with a belt. Moreover, I had no idea why.

A noise at the door had me open my eyes to see Dr. Venter approaching the bed. He took my chart off the wall, pulled up a chair, and sat down, crossing his legs.

"Mr. Hesse. How are you feeling?"

"Okay." I shrugged. "Confused"

"Confused about your memory loss?" He asked as he shone a penlight torch into my eyes, holding my eyelids open with one hand. "You made it sound as if you believed it was 2010 before you passed out earlier. Do you remember that?"

"Yes" I replied, "Because that's when I thought it was. My last memory is from Thursday the 16th of September 2010. I was having supper with my wife. I was watching Dexter on TV. You said a few days memory loss could be expected... do a few years memory loss seem normal?"

He shook his head. "No. It's definitely not normal. I sent you for an MRI scan earlier but will only have the results back in the morning. If this does not turn out to be medically related I would suggest, in fact, emphasize, that you see a psychiatrist. Often the shock of a traumatic incident, such as the one you have recently experience, could cause some confusion, which could translate into temporary or long term memory loss."

"It makes no sense, doc." I replied. "Three years?"

"Well, let's hope we can get to the bottom of it soon then." He smiled and patted me on the shoulder. "How about we get you something to eat? Pea soup?"

"Sure" I nodded. He stood up and left the room, returning a few minutes later with a bed tray.

"Now take it easy at first" he said, "It will get you up and around in no time." Dr. Venter excused himself, promising to pop in later.

The soup was delicious. I spooned in mouthfuls of it with utmost care, trying to savor every flavor, despite being watched like a hawk by the uniformed police officer who had come to ensure I wasn't going to stab myself with the spoon or something. It was almost as if my mouth and taste buds had gone on vacation and were soaking up the treats of an exotic resort. I had only gone halfway through the bowl though when I felt my stomach straining to get any more down. I had to stop and push the bowl away. As hungry as I thought I was, my body just couldn't fit any more in.

"You done?" the police constable asked.

"Yep"

He came over, removed the bed tray, and placed it on the floor near the door. I noticed his name badge read "Tetani."

"Constable Tetani" I said. "How long have you been in the police service?"

"Five years" he replied.

"Wow." I said. "So this must be quite boring for you? Watching someone chained in a bed all day."

"It's part of the job. I get relieved in thirty minutes."

"What happens to me when I get released from hospital?" I asked.

"I guess you will be taken to Fort Glamorgan, to await trial."

Fort Glamorgan was the local prison. It was built in 1848 along the banks of the Buffalo River, originally to house troops and protect the start of the supply line to King William's Town. It was named after Lord Charles Somerset's father, the Earl of Glamorgan. Somerset was the then governor of the Cape Colony. In 1938, they proclaimed the Fort a national monument. The Fort itself is located in the grounds of Glamorgan Prison, with the old buildings being maintained by the Department of Correctional Services. With East London being the only river port in South Africa, it was a high traffic area in the 19th century. Of course, South African prisons are renowned for their low quality accommodation, corruption and gangs, with cells of thirty bunks each housing over four thousand criminals in total, including rapists, murderers and thieves. It seemed ridiculous that I would be calling it home for the next twenty to thirty years! I was a Math geek with a passion for local history, for crying out loud! I never even had a speeding fine before!

Constable Tetani picked up the tray and headed for the door, then stopped and pointed at the newspaper at the foot of my bed.

"Are you done with that?"

I nodded and he took the newspaper and his chair back outside the room to settle down and wait for the end of his shift. I pulled the blankets a little higher up my chest, and then closed my eyes and tried to sleep. It was difficult, as I had so many questions needing answers, and my mind just wouldn't allow me to simply forget them. I shifted position a couple of times, trying to find a sweet spot to lie in, but the leg irons made getting comfortable a difficult task, and chafed into the skin of my ankles! Eventually I managed to shape myself into a spastic fetal position, and then I just lay there as quietly as possible until I passed out.

### * * *

I must have been more tired than I thought, because when I came to I was on my back again, and the dressings around my abdomen had been changed. It was obviously dark outside as the curtains had been drawn, but there was a big enough gap left for me to see the lights of buildings and houses in the distance. I heard the sound of somebody clearing their throat, and looked down towards the door. The fat detective from this morning was there, in a chair near the door, staring at me, his highly polished black shoes reflecting light from the open doorway. What was his name again? Oh yes, Coetzee.

"You're a very quiet sleeper." He said.

"Okay..." I wasn't sure how to respond to that.

"You hardly move, and you make no breathing noises... I had to check if you were still alive when I got here." He laughed.

"Yeah, I'm sure me being dead would make your life a whole lot easier." I said, sarcastically.

"You're probably right," He replied. "But I also like to finish my cases. So it's a tough one." He stood up and approached the bed, dragging his chair with him. He positioned it so that he was on my right, and then flopped into it. For a moment, I thought the chair would break from the sudden impact of his generous weight, and I almost imagined the shit I'd be in for laughing my ass off at a police officer, but the chair survived. He flicked on the bedside lamp, filling the room in a warm orange glow.

"I've spoken to Dr. Venter. He told me about your... problem." He proceeded to wave the first two fingers of both hands in the air, putting the word "problem" in finger parentheses.

"You mean my memory loss." I replied.

"Yes. Quite convenient that." He pulled out his flip pad, and dramatically flipped it open. "So tell me some more, Mr. Hesse. What can you recall about the death of your ex-wife, Jackie Stanford?"

I felt as if somebody had just dropped me into an ice-cold bucket of invisible water from the Antarctic. The words pierced into me, and the pain of them was a hundred times worse than the pain of actually being physically stabbed. I could feel the blood draining from my face, and I didn't need a mirror to see that my face had paled to a ghostly white. I hadn't heard that name said aloud in twelve to fifteen years...

"I'm sorry... you said EX-wife? Stanford?"

"Yes." He replied slowly, unsure about the point I was trying to make. "According to our records you've been divorced from Ms. Stanford since April of 2011."

I hardly had time to get my body arched over the edge of the bed before I was vomiting fresh pea soup all over the floor... and a part of Detective Coetzee's previously well-polished shoes.

### Chapter 4

Few things in life truly embarrass me. Throwing up on the floor of a hospital room and having a cute nurse come to clean it up, is probably quite high on that short list. If I wasn't completely drained I would have pulled the blankets over my head until she was done, but I chose to stare at the ceiling instead. She made quick work of it, as it was obviously a task that someone in her profession would have to do regularly. She then exited without a word, which made me feel a bit better. I had managed to avoid both my hospital gown and the bed in my launching of the regurgitated pea soup, and it was only a quick dab of my mouth with a wet wipe before I was back to my normal self. The faint aroma of peas and stomach fluid still drafted in the air, but it was nothing compared to the stench of betrayal and hurt that I was feeling right now. I could not believe that Jackie and I would ever have got divorced! The last time I remember us being together we were happy! Twelve years of marriage had done nothing but bring us closer together, so it was a really difficult fact for me to swallow.

Detective Ettiene Coetzee was obviously not completely happy either. Firstly, I had spoiled the shine on his freshly polished black shoes, and then my reaction to the news of my apparent divorce must have thrown him slightly off balance. I was quite sure that, up to that point he thought the whole memory loss thing was just a clever attempt at getting out of a murder charge by pleading insanity. He had composed himself though, as would be expected of a man who has probably seen it all, and had resumed his seat at my bedside, although he kept a little more distance between us, naturally.

"So you are saying that you did not know you had been divorced from Ms. Stanford then?"

"No. I swear! Look, I'm sure you deal with a lot of nutcases in your line of work, Detective, but in the same breath you should also be able to tell the difference between a liar and someone who is telling the truth! I have no memories of my life since sometime in September 2010. What I've done in the past two and a half years is as much of a mystery to me as it is to you... in fact, I think you would probably have a better idea of what I've been doing all this time than I would! I mean, there have to be records or something? Parking tickets? Emails?"

Coetzee was taking notes, and nodded. "I am sure I could figure out some sort of timeline with a bit of research, but regardless of all of that, it's not what you've been doing the last two and a half years that I'm concerned about... it's what you did on Sunday evening that has just passed." He paused to take out a brown folder from his briefcase. "Do you know how long it takes someone to die from strangulation?" He pulled out a glossy page from the folder and held it up to my face.

It was a crime scene photo. Jackie's once beautiful face. Eyes bulging. Skin with a bluish tint. Her dark hair unkempt and lifeless. The thick black belt still wrapped around her neck. I turned my head away.

"Please." I whispered. "Don't show me that. She was my reason for living!"

"It takes thirty seconds before the victim passes out from asphyxiation, and then another four to six minutes before the brain completely shuts down." Coetzee said, waving the photo in my face. "That's a long and painful way to die, don't you think?"

"Yes!" I found myself raising my voice. "Of course it is! And I wouldn't wish that on anybody, but I would especially not wish that on her!"

"Even if she had tried to kill you first? Stabbed you in the stomach with a butcher knife?" Coetzee raised an eyebrow. "Surely in your rage you may have done that then? Or in self-defense?"

"No." I answered calmly. "Even then, no"

The detective slipped the photo back into the brown folder. He placed it on his lap and folded his hands.

"Do you realize that no matter how we look at this thing, there really is no way out for you?" he asked. "Your ex-wife was strangled by your belt. Your fingerprints were found all over it. In 2011, she got a restraining order against you because she felt her life was threatened. That's motive, right there. You broke into the house because we found the backdoor kicked in, a muddy impression matched the Nike shoes you were wearing. She was not expecting you, as it was the middle of the night, and she had just returned home from a date with a man named Dalton. We discovered this from a text on her phone."

I shook my head. It was so hard to imagine that my beautiful Jackie would be going on a date with another man. It was literally, in my mind, only a few days ago that we were still married and in love. How cruel was it then to have your entire life change, your world turned upside down, and you had no idea why? Coetzee was right. I really was so deep in this thing, that no matter what excuse I had for not remembering any of it, the facts were there! Based on the facts, I was as guilty as hell! There wasn't a court in the world that wouldn't think twice about locking me up for life and throwing away the key.

"I know. You're right." I said, "The way it looks is really bad. I'm not going to deny that. If I could honestly remember, I swear to God I would own up to it and take responsibility for what happened! As long as my mind is a blank, I just cannot give you that confession, as it would be an impossible lie based on what I know inside my heart about my relationship with her. I'm sorry, Detective."

Coetzee sighed, and put his folder back into his briefcase. He stood up, with some effort, and tucked his shirt in before picking his briefcase up. "Dr. Venter says you should be ready to leave in a few days' time. It's not going to be pleasant from then out I must warn you. Your trial date is set for February 21st, but it will still be at least 6 months to a year before we even come close to a finding in your case. During this time, you will be held at Fort Glamorgan Prison in the Awaiting Trial section. I say this because I doubt you will get bail. Not for these charges. Confessing is not going to speed anything up I, can also assure you of that. The courts run on their own time and regardless of what you remember or not, the outcome is going to be the same. I am just sorry we couldn't reach an absolute conclusion here. If you are truly innocent, then you need to give me something to prove it. Your memory loss not only does nothing to help your conviction, but it also does nothing to prevent it."

He turned and walked towards the door, then stopped, and without looking back, said "Goodbye, Mr. Hesse. I wish you could find a way to help me."

"So do I," I whispered to the empty room as he left. "So do I."

I heard him talking in low tones to the uniformed police officer stationed outside the door, and then his footsteps as he walked down the quiet passageway. The chair outside scraped its legs against the floor and the Constable appeared at the door. He was a tall and scrawny looking African man, blue police windbreaker seemed to be too big for him, and hung across his shoulders limply. He approached the bed and looked down at me.

"Toilet?" he asked, pointing roughly in the direction of the lavatory door to the left of the bed.

They had removed my catheter when they changed my dressings earlier, and my bladder was aching. I nodded.

"You have two minutes." He said, pulling me up by the arm so that I could stand.

My legs felt like jelly, and sharp needle points of pain attacked my feet as the blood attempted to return to them. I took three or four tentative steps with the Constable holding my arm, then felt the pain subside slightly, enough so that I could cover the rest of the distance to the bathroom on my own as I shrugged his arm away. He walked behind me as I shuffled to the bathroom door, and then opened it for me, quickly checking inside before allowing me to go in. He closed the door behind me and left me alone to do my business.

The bathroom was small, just a shower, toilet and basin. The shower had handrails in and a thick rubber mat on the floor. There was a small mirror above the basin, and I paused in front of it. Looking at myself was like looking at a stranger. I had last seen my own face two and a half years ago, and I had been lying in a hospital bed for four days. Aside from the fact that I was completely unshaven, I could see fresh crows-feet lines extending from the sides of my eyes, a deeper crease in my smile-line, a hint of salt and peppering in my hair, which was also about four inches longer than the last time I had seen it. My dark brown eyes seemed sunken, almost hollow, and the whites around my cornea were laced with fine red blood vessels. I was pale and my forehead was covered in fine beads of perspiration. There was no bigger truth than the sight of my own face in confirming a missing gap of time.

I splashed water onto my face, and it felt so good. After drying my hands and face off with the blue hand towel on a rail next to the basin, I moved over to the toilet. With some difficulty, I managed to lift my hospital gown. Looking down at my abdomen, I could see the rows of bandages wrapped around my body several times. There was a slight bulge to the left, which was where the wound had been covered and treated, and I touched it gently. It was extremely sensitive, but the pain was bearable. I finished my business, and the sensation of controlled urination was strangely satisfying. As I was finishing up and re-tying my gown, a sharp pain pierced my skull as if somebody had just taken my head and poked a super slim red-hot wire right through it. I had to grab onto the wall beside me, or I would have fallen onto the tiled floor and probably cracked my skull open on the toilet. I could suddenly smell the faint scent of watermelons and my ears started ringing.

Get behind the door!

It wasn't a voice or a thought... it was something stranger than that. A feeling. A certainty. An action already completed once before and now to be repeated. It reminded me of the once or twice in my life that I had experienced déjà vu, except it wasn't just a brief moment of recalled familiarity that was beyond explanation, it was a clear and precise undeniable certainty that I had been here, done this and now I had to act on it.

Get behind the door NOW!!!!

I quickly shuffled over to the right of the door, lifting the chain between my leg irons to prevent them from making a noise, not sure, if I was merely losing my mind, or if I actually needed to believe in and listen to this feeling/voice no matter what. I had barely put my back against the wall, when the door crashed open, banging against my feet and chest. From around the side of it a 9mm pistol with a silencer attached appeared, followed by a gloved hand, and then an extended arm. The pistol fired three times in quick succession. The first bullet smashed the mirror into a thousand pieces, sending fine shards of glass into the air. The second bullet hit the glass of the shower door, and it collapsed downwards in a waterfall of sparkling pieces. The third bullet punched a hole right through the cistern of the toilet, gushing water out in a horizontal fountain. These three bullets left the gun in a total of 0.82 seconds from the first shot to the third. It was so fast that had I blinked long enough I would have missed seeing all three being fired. I was amazed at how observant I was being, at my ability to trace the bullets from gun to target, to track the movement of the arm holding the gun, as it swung from right to left shooting up the room.

I didn't have to think about what I did next. It was as if my body had been taken over by somebody else's mind and I was merely a puppet on invisible strings. I lifted my arms in front of me and looped them like a human lasso through the extended arm of the gunman. Ducking downwards, I crossed my arms over each other, pulling the noose tighter as I moved forward and under the outstretched arm, twisting my body as I did this. As I came up on the other side of the assassin's arm, I pushed forward with all my weight, simultaneously trapping the body of the gunman against the door, and applying extreme pressure to his extended arm at a point where it had been outstretched beyond the edge of the bathroom door. The door acted as leverage, and with nothing supporting the arm, it made a terrifying snapping sound as the bones broke at a point near the elbow.

The gunman, whom I had not yet had a good look at, gave out a piercing scream, as his snapped arm dropped at an unnatural angle, and hung down towards the ground as soon as I let go of it. I fell to my knees, grabbing the Luger pistol out of his hand and in one motion spinning it around 180 degrees and upwards in the direction of his head. My fingers found the trigger and I fired once. The bullet hit the gunman, who I now noticed was the police officer who had led me to the toilet, square in the forehead, and a tiny hole appeared briefly between his eyes, while a spray of blood and brain tissue erupted from the back of his head.

Seven seconds had passed since the door slammed open. The ringing sound in my ears stopped as suddenly as it had started. The body of the Constable collapsed to the floor, and I sat back on my haunches, still holding the pistol between my legs. Water from the punctured cistern had started flowing towards the door, passing around me, carrying tiny pieces of shower door, mirror, and porcelain with it. Smoke from the barrel of the silencer drifted up past my face, and the pungent smell of gunpowder wafted by my nose. The water on the floor met with the bright scarlet blood from the dead cop's head, and they swirled through each other briefly, tiny whirlpools of red on white, a mini ballet of dancers that were keeping me entertained as the rest of my known world collapsed into the unreal.

### Chapter 5

I was too shocked to move. My stomach ached from the sudden movements I had made, and a fresh spot of scarlet had soaked through the bandages. The gun felt heavy and unnatural in my hands, and I let it slip through my fingers and to the floor with a thud. My head was pounding now with a massive migraine that seemed to be crushing my skull. I stared down at the body of the police Constable who had tried to murder me.

Tried to fucking murder me!

What the hell was going on? Where the hell did that Jason Bourne style, trained assassin crap come from? I felt like I was losing my mind! For a moment, everything just seemed to be too much for me. All of the craziness of the past few days had left me mentally exhausted and emotionally drained. The amnesia, Jackie's death, and now this dead cop! Could the shit get any deeper or weirder?

My hands were shaking. I lifted them up and stared at my palms for a moment. There was blood on these hands now, I thought, and the realization terrified me! If I could kill a trained police officer in seven seconds, without flinching, then how completely plausible was it that I could strangle my own wife to death? Had I become this monster capable of dealing out death without second thought? Had two and a half hidden years changed me to the extent that I no longer knew who I was and what I was capable of? I was a stranger living in a version of somebody else's life! Yes, the name was the same, and the body was almost the same, but everything else seemed foreign and unnatural, even alien.

I was brought out of my thoughts by the sound of Mandoza singing "Nkalakathla". At first I thought it was another trick of my screwed up mind, but then I realised it was the cellphone of the dead police officer, which was ringing. I could see the light of the cellphone screen shining through the breast pocket of his uniform shirt, and I reached in quickly to pull it out. The screen read "Private Number". I pressed the green button to pick up the call and held the phone to my ear. At first, there was only silence and distant background noises, and then a male voice, deep and accented, Eastern European perhaps, said:

"Is it done?"

I swallowed hard. Was this the initiator of my death! The harbinger of darkness! Attempted taker of my soul! Possibly, also the person responsible for the mess I found myself in?

"Pauli! Is it done?" the voice repeated.

"Pauli can't come to the phone right now," I replied and the silence that followed seemed to last forever and had a thickness to it that was almost tangible, I could imagine the caller's face as he tried to process the voice of a dead man at the other end of the line. "Who is this?" I asked.

There was a click as the caller hung up. Almost immediately, I heard a vehicle starting its engine in the quiet street outside.

They're coming! Leave now!

The needle of pain through my skull made me clutch my head with both hands. It passed quickly, and I realized I had no time to waste. The sensation of déjà vu had returned, and this time I would not be hesitating! I pushed myself up off the floor, and stepping over the dead body of Constable Pauli, shuffled over to the window as quickly as I could. I peered through the curtains, and could see a dark SUV making a screeching U-turn a few hundred meters up the road, and come to a stop near the entrance of the Hospital. The back doors opened and two burly men climbed out. They were wearing black balaclavas and carrying semi-automatic rifles, and they headed straight for the entrance. I was on the second floor, so I had a few minutes, probably less! I heard the rapid sound of gunfire from the lobby, and then screaming and shouting. It appeared the need for silence and secrecy had gone out the window with Pauli's first failed attempt on my life!

I had no time to process the reasoning behind what was happening. Why I had a target painted on my back? Who wanted me dead? What did this have to do with my memory loss or Jackie's death? I had to move, move, and move! I figured I would have exactly fifty-three seconds before the gunmen burst through my room door. I don't know why I chose that exact amount of time, but it seemed to be the only thing I was completely sure of right now. I quickly rushed over to Pauli's dead body, and felt his pockets for the keys to the leg irons. I couldn't find them anywhere, but a distant memory of my years served in the National Defense Force reminded me of a trick we used to undo leg irons. I shuffled over to the clipboard hanging over my hospital bed and ripped the yellow ballpoint pen from it. I removed the refill, and inserted it into the tiny hole at the top of the coupling on one of the leg irons. I screwed it into the threaded hole, forming my own key. Once it was in deep enough I jerked it upwards, and the leg iron sprang free. I repeated the action on my other foot, and then moved towards the door. I briefly considered stopping to pick up Pauli's gun as well, but something told me I wouldn't need it. Instead, I slowly opened my room door a crack, peering out into the hallway.

There were several people running down the hall, most of them away from the noise of gunfire downstairs, but a few were heading crazily towards it as well. A mixed bag of doctors, nurses, porters, family members visiting patients and even a couple of patients themselves who were doing their best to keep up with the flow of people down the hall. I pushed my door all the way open and looked left, then right down the hallway. The stairs and elevators were to the right. That is where the commotion was coming from, and I instinctively wanted to follow the crowd and head left, but that sensation of just knowing ...

Go right!

... had me headed instead towards the sound of oncoming danger. As quickly as I could I made my way down the hall, bumping shoulders with a few panicked people as they ran for their lives. The elevators were a few meters before the stairwell, and as I reached them, I cast my eyes up at the display unit. There were two elevators. The first one displayed "G" for ground in bright red LED's, and the second one displayed a "3", one floor above. I was about to head past them and towards the stairwell, as I was certain there would be no time to wait for either one, but that feeling seemed to grab me by the throat and stop me in my tracks.

Call the second elevator!

No hesitating! I told myself, as I pushed the button to call the elevator from the floor above. Downstairs had gotten quieter, and now I could hear the loud tramping of heavy boots on the stairwell a floor below. There was no way I was going to make it! The PING of the elevator as it reached the second floor was a beautiful sound and I stood anxiously in front of the door, waiting for it to open. When it did, I rushed inside, swung around, and pushed the close door button. It seemed to take forever for the doors to respond. I could see out into the hallway, and I could hear the running footsteps getting closer, almost at the top of the stairwell! The doors started sliding closed, almost as if in slow motion. My heart was pounding out of my chest, and my bare feet were sweating against the vinyl of the elevator floor. Then the doors closed and I could no longer hear the running footsteps, which had by now, reached the hallway. I instinctively reached for the button, which would take me to the ground floor, but stopped before pressing it.

Wait!

I stared at the closed doors, expecting them to slide open at any moment, and for a hail of gunfire to cut me into pieces, leaving me in a bloody mess to die with all my questions unanswered.

They remained closed. For what seemed to be an eternity I waited, and then I heard a loud burst of gunfire from inside the hallway, and I knew they were at my room and firing wildly.

_Now! Go up! Third floor_.

What? Up was a dead end! I needed to get OUT of the building, away from this madness, into the world, into the streets and the night beyond! I pressed the button for the third floor anyway.

As the elevator rose, I tried to examine my bandaged wounds. The blood had started seeping through a bit faster, and almost half of the front of my wrapped abdomen was a dark red. This wasn't a good sign, but right now all I was concerned about was not getting pumped full of lead! The elevator stopped suddenly, and the doors opened on the third floor, facing another elevator across the hall, which had a signboard which read "Emergencies Only" I pushed myself out of the elevator, one hand clutching my stomach. Without any hesitation, I instinctively crossed the hallway and pressed the button on the Emergency elevator. The lift was already there, and the doors opened immediately.

Trauma Ward - and then head for the ambulance parking area.

I pressed the button for the Trauma Ward, and the lift descended quickly. The ambulance parking bays were on the ground floor, at the side of the building, and the Emergency elevator opened up right inside the Trauma and Casualty ward, literally two meters from the side entrance of the hospital, and right into the ambulance parking area. As the door opened in the Trauma Ward, I rushed out and turned right. The automatic doors leading to the outside world were one-way tinted glass, and I could see that the parking bays were empty. The black SUV was parked at the front of the building, so they would have no line of site on me as I exited from here. I slammed the automatic release on the doors, and they swung open, the fresh air grabbing me gently as I stepped out into the cool night. I had no idea what to do or where to go from there.

It's almost 8.30pm exactly.

I wouldn't know, as I wasn't wearing a watch, but the strange statement seemed to make perfect sense, and I had no idea why.

Start walking towards the street now!

I knew I had to follow the intuitive instruction, but it left me with a sensationally bad feeling in my gut, because I knew that once I stepped out of the parking lot and headed for the street I would be clearly visible to the black SUV, in plain sight and an easy target! These almost premonitory instructions up to this point had been spot on and had already saved my life twice. I would take the odds of going a third round! I walked towards the street. As I came around the side of the building, I could see the SUV parked only twenty meters away. There were two men standing outside, both wearing balaclavas, sporting semi-automatic rifles - AK47's to be exact. At the precise moment I came into view, a security guard called to them from the opposite end of the building, and they both turned to look at him, their backs to me. I took the tentative steps forward, approaching the open road barely five meters away. I heard gunfire and then looked back to see the security guard go down. One of the men walked over to where he lay and shot him in the head for good measure, while the other made a call from his cellphone.

I reached the edge of the road and stopped at the curb. It took every fiber of my being not to turn around and run back into the safety of the parking lot. After a few nerve racking moments I was about to bolt, when a blue Audi A6 pulled up in front of me and the passenger door swung open. I looked into the car at the driver. It was a woman in her late twenties, with blonde hair, wearing a red leather jacket.

"Get in!" she gestured urgently, and I accepted the invitation without second thought. As soon as my bare ass was in the seat, she accelerated and sped off past the black SUV, and the two oblivious gunmen. We drove in silence for a few blocks, as she changed direction a few times and headed down quiet and deserted streets. Soon we were turning into Oxford Street, the main road through East London's central district, and a busy road at any time of day. Once we had merged with the traffic and become potentially invisible to my pursuers, she let out a sigh, laughed wildly, and then clamped her hand down on my mostly naked thigh.

"Woohoo baby!" she laughed. "Exactly as you said! 8.30pm on the dot! How the hell did you know?"

I had no idea what she was talking about, but I laughed as well, mainly because I was amazed that I was still breathing, and that seemed worth laughing about right now, but also partly because an extremely hot blonde had her hand on my leg while she drove the getaway car that saved my life from armed gunmen!

"I'm sorry" I said after a moment, "I really do appreciate the lift and everything, but who the hell are you exactly?"

She looked at me, smiled broadly, and then winked and said:

"An old friend.

### Chapter 6

As we drove through the city of my birth, I was amazed to see the changes that could happen over a few years. Oxford Street is the main artery that runs through the center of East London, feeding hundreds of smaller streets and roads that have formed and shaped the suburbs around it over the decades. With a total population of around 410000 people, it is nestled mainly between two rivers, the Buffalo River that is also the country's only river port, and the Nahoon River. The Eastern Cape town was founded in 1836 by a Lieutenant of the Royal Navy and was originally known as Port Rex. Settlement started on the West Bank of the Buffalo River, and quickly spread until the town was declared a city in 1914. In the early 19th Century, during the famous frontier wars between British settlers and the local Xhosa inhabitants, East London served as a supply port to the military headquarters at nearby King William's Town. The German settlers were the first to settle here permanently, and they were responsible for the names of some of the region's towns, including Stutterheim and Berlin. The South African currency is the Rand, which trades at about R8.16 to the American Dollar, the last time I checked.

In the two and a half years that have passed since I last drove down Oxford Street, I noticed that several long standing businesses, businesses which had been a part of my entire life since birth, had closed down, and that a lot of Chinese run imported goods stores and loan shark companies had replaced them. The general condition of the buildings and roads had also deteriorated, which was an indication that the town was slowly slipping away from its once majestic and historic beauty into the mismanaged birth child of political greed and corruption, as was the case with several once beautiful cities in the country. The population of East London was 59% black inhabitants and around 28% white, with a few minorities of colored and Indian people in between. As a representation of the demographics of what we call the "Rainbow Nation", we were pretty spot on.

"Where are we going?" I asked the young lady driver who sat beside me. She had by now removed her hand from my leg and concentrated on driving instead.

"My place" She replied with a smile. "God this is weird, don't you think!" She looked over at me for a moment. "So for you this is like the first time we've ever met?"

I nodded. "I'm sure it must sound crazy to you, but trust me I am so confused right now, you have no idea!"

"You told me it would happen, all of this, from meeting you outside at 20h30 exactly today, and the fact that you would not remember me, or pretty much anything... You gave me a file about a year ago and told me that one day you might need it – to remember." She lifted a stray lock of hair out of her face and hooked it behind her ear. "I still don't quite understand how this all works, to be honest!"

"How what works?" I asked.

"You're asking the Pope for sex." she laughed. "This! You! The whole mind thing! I couldn't even begin to explain it! Once we get home, you can read the file. That might make more sense than anything that I try to explain. If only Andre were around, he might have been able to explain it all."

"Andre?" I asked. "Mind thing?"

"Yes. Andre North. I met him once. You worked with him at Fort Hare University. You two were busy with some experimental mumbo jumbo and needed my help."

I frowned. "Seriously? I had no idea he was involved in all of this. Can you take me to him right now? He might be the key to figuring all of this shit out!"

She sighed. "Andre disappeared some time ago. You told me he'd been gone for a while on the same day you gave me the folder and the instructions. I think it was sometime near the end of March last year? I think they got him – you were pretty upset!"

"They? You mean the guys in the SUV?"

"Yes and some guy named Viktor. You spoke about him a lot!"

"I don't get any of this." I sighed. "Or know who these people or Viktor are, or why they want me dead!"

"Relax!" she smiled. "Let's get you home and treat that wound. You left clothes with me as well. Rest up for now, we'll be there in 30 minutes."

I nodded and closed my eyes, resting my head against the headrest. I was suddenly exhausted. My abdomen hurt, I was bleeding, and I just couldn't get the image of the police officer's brains splattering all over the floor out of my head. I was never a big fan of violence, or blood. I had never hurt anyone to that extent before in my life either. I started thinking about his family. That they had to deal with his loss now, maybe he had children? What about his wife?

What about your wife? The thought stood up in my mind, blocking my view of the pity party I was throwing for Constable Pauli in my head. The man tried to kill me! It was do or die! Me or him! Survival of the fittest! A thousand more cliché's came to mind, but they weren't going to change how I felt. Taking a life was an easy action, with a difficult consequence. Unfortunately, it was true. It had really come down to do or die! I just had to accept that and move on.

"What's your name, by the way?" I asked, as she turned off Oxford Street headed out towards the airport on Settlers Way.

"Seriously!" She exclaimed. "Really? Not even that?"

I shrugged. "Sorry."

"Nicole. Nicole Richards". She grinned suddenly. "This is exciting, isn't it?"

"No." I said tentatively then added "Sorry if I don't share your enthusiasm right now."

"Oh, don't be!" she replied, and chuckled. "I can be plenty enthusiastic for both of us!"

What I had gotten myself into, I wondered. We passed through the Greenfields area and I saw the neon blue runway lights of the airport on my right as we drove by. The city ended at the airport, and Settlers Way became the R72 National Road. After about ten minutes along the highway we turned off towards Winterstrand, a small little village nestled against the sea. The road was really bad, full of potholes and uneven bits, but she obviously knew it well, as she managed to dodge them with some skill for the next three kilometers. At the bottom of a long downhill stretch, the road bent sharply to the right, and then we were in Winterstrand itself. The South African coastline is littered with hundreds of these secluded little village suburbs, a few kilometers out of the cities and towns, mostly privately owned holiday houses and parks lining the beachfront, preferably without any shops or businesses, so as to discourage unnecessary loitering and public traffic. They all faced beautiful beaches, with kilometers of open sand, lush coastal foliage and fantastic fishing spots for the locals who knew where to go.

Nicole pulled the car into a driveway of one of the upper tier houses, about three streets parallel to the road that ran along the beachfront. The double story house was nestled between two others, but the plots were huge and there was a lot of space between each of the neighbours. She pressed a remote on her steering wheel and a double garage door rolled up, allowing her to pull the car inside.

"Welcome to Mi Casa." She said with a smile.

I stepped out of the car, and the concrete floor of the garage was ice cold under my feet. Nicole grabbed her purse from the backseat of the Audi, and then led me to an inter-leading door that opened up into the living room of the house. It was a huge area, with enormous windows facing out over the sea, the floor was covered in a lush pale green carpet and three modern sofas were arranged around a pine coffee table, a 57inch Plasma TV hung on the wall between two enormous speakers.

"Wow." I said.

"Thanks." She replied. "The fruits of my labour! The bathroom is down the hall, get the dressing off and I'll grab some fresh bandages and clothes for you."

She disappeared up a flight of wooden stairs, and I made my way to the bathroom. It was a beautiful room, maroon bath, basin, and toilet, pink tiles all around, with vases filled with seashells placed in strategic positions around the room. There was a huge mirror hanging on the wall above the bath, which gave the illusion of doubling the size of the bathroom. I sat on the closed toilet seat and took off the horrible hospital gown, which was now covered in my own blood. Looking down at my torso and legs for the first time really, since I woke up on the floor of my house on Monday, I was surprised to see that I was in pretty good shape, aside from the knife injury. I had obviously been working out a bit, and I could see the difference in my calves and pectoral muscles. Two and a half years ago, I was in fair shape, but starting to get podgy around the edges... glad to see I had tackled that problem in my "absence"!

I began rolling off the old bandages from my abdomen, and now that the adrenalin had worked out of my system, the result of my excursions started becoming evident. I had obviously ripped a couple of the stitches on my wound open, and right now, it was hurting like hell! There was a small bin under the basin and I dumped the bloody bandages into it as I rolled them out. I studied the knife wound for the first time. It was a clean cut, about four centimeters across and midway between my bellybutton and ribcage, slightly off center to the right. There were about nine stitches that I could count, of which the first three had torn loose. Blood was seeping out and along with it traces of some yellowy gunk. Just then, the bathroom door opened, and Nicole came in. She was carrying two packs of fresh bandages, a bottle of iodine, and a bundle of folded clothes.

"Don't touch that!" She warned me as she put everything on the linen cupboard near the door, and then took a towel and proceeded to wet the end with warm water. She came over and knelt in front of me, then dabbed the warm towel over my wound, being very careful not to press too hard. Once she was done cleaning it, she very swiftly dabbed some iodine onto cotton wool, then placed it over the wound, before wrapping fresh bandages around my abdomen. The iodine burnt like hell! It was a strange sensation watching her work, feeling her hands as they occasionally touched my naked torso. I hadn't felt another woman's touch in twelve years, and it was completely surreal to me that this was happening, as innocent as it was. I took the time to study her features as she worked. She was a very beautiful woman. A bob of blonde hair that fell to just above her shoulders, wavy, but not curly. She had deep blue eyes, surrounded by long lashes, full lips that she chose not to hide behind any lipstick and high cheekbones that were visible but not prominent or overbearing. I had an unavoidable view of her cleavage from my seat on the loo, and she had truly magnificent breasts, which were straining against a tight grey top, and occasionally bumping against my knee, their softness quite disorienting.

"Don't stare too hard." She said, catching the direction of my eyes, and I blushed again, and looked away. She laughed and quickly closed off the bandages with a safety pin. "There you go, hun. Now get yourself dressed while I make us something to eat. You must be starved!"

She left the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind her, and I proceeded to put some clothes on. She had brought me a pair of Levi men's jeans, size thirty-six, which fit me perfectly, and then a long sleeve black and white Billabong t-shirt, with a pair of matching slip-slops for my feet. There were still price tags on the clothes, bought at a place called the Regent Boutique. I had never heard of it. There was also a disposable razor, and I used it to shave, then washed my face, ran my fingers through my hair and then got a good look at myself in the mirror. I could see a different version of myself staring back, and my face looked good for a forty-two year old, but it was what was happening inside my head that I was really trying to see, and this mirror wasn't giving me anything worth a second glance.

### Chapter 7

I half-lay on the two-seater sofa that directly faced the plasma television hanging on the wall of the living room. Nicole had selected a local channel on TV and was busy in the kitchen preparing a quick meal for us. It was almost 10pm, and I was really tired by now. I was struggling to keep my eyes open, but at the same time, the delicious smell of frying fish had my stomach grumbling loud enough to keep me awake.

"Would you like any sauce?" Nicole asked, as she was dishing up.

"No thanks" I replied. I don't think I'm ready for any exotics right now."

She brought over a TV tray and set it up in front of me, and then placed a plate with a fillet of fried and battered hake and a handful of French fries on it. A separate bowl held a serving of toss green salad.

"It looks delicious." I said. "But I'm not sure I'm going to finish it all. I can't remember when last I ate anything solid."

"Finish what you can." She smiled, and then sat next to me with her own tray.

We ate in silence for a few minutes. I was taking really small bites of the food, and the fish was so soft and tasty that it turned out being an easier task than I had imagined. I had a tougher time with the French fries though. The salad was also quite moist, and she had the foresight to leave out any acidic tomatoes and onions, so it was really just lettuce with a few olives and some creamy salad dressing. I ate about two thirds of the fish, hardly any of the chips, and then put my fork down, and moved the tray aside.

"Thank you, Nicole, but I think that's all I can manage for today."

"No problem." She replied, and then started waving her hands frantically in the air, and gesturing at the TV. "The news... it's the hospital!"

She turned the volume on the TV up, and a news reporter from SABC 3 was talking about the shooting earlier at St Dominic's Hospital.

"... and reports are saying that at least four armed gunmen were seen leaving the scene in a black Land Rover Discovery at around 20h30 this evening. It is still unconfirmed what the reason for the attack was, but according to sources, it would appear that one of the patients at the hospital was directly involved. Investigators have discovered the body of a uniformed police officer apparently assigned to guard the patient, a Mr. Lionel Hesse, who was being treated at the hospital while under arrest for the suspected murder of his ex-wife, Jackie Stanford in the early hours of Monday morning. It would appear that Hesse managed to break free, and then shot and killed the police officer. It is also suspected that he is directly linked to the armed gunmen that were responsible for a further eight deaths this evening, in what now appears to be a daring escape from custody gone horribly wrong for several innocent patients and staff here at St Dominic's..."

"Jesus." I whispered, and the ice-cold fear in my heart seemed to fill my mouth like a poisonous vile gas as I spoke. Nicole reached over, took my hand in hers, and squeezed it. They had now placed a photograph of my face in the top left hand corner of the screen, and in the background, a camera was showing live footage of covered bodies being bought out of the hospital and loaded into white mortuary vans. It was a horrific scene at any time, but even more horrific to me right now, as I stared at my most likely future... a lifetime in jail for mass murder! How did I go from Mathematics lecturer to... to this... in a few short years?

"I need to know everything you know right now!" I said between clenched teeth.

Nicole nodded, stood up, and left the living room. She returned a few moments later with a leather-bound folder and placed it on the coffee table in front of me. "This is what you asked me to keep for you last year in March. You rocked up at my apartment, gave me the folder, a bag of clothes and an instruction to be at the hospital tonight at exactly 20h30. I originally thought you were crazy, but you also gave me something that you assured me would change my mind, and it did."

I picked the folder up, slowly tracing my hand across its cold, hard surface. Would this be the first opportunity I would have in trying to decipher my missing years? Would this be the Pandora's Box holding all the answers to my questions? Would this be my one shot at salvation? I unclipped the bronze clasp and opened the folder. Inside was a single clear plastic sleeve containing handwritten papers. To be honest I was a bit disappointed that there were only these few sheets of information, as I was expecting my missing years to account for a lot more pages than this!

I lifted out the plastic sleeve and placed the folder next to me on the couch.

"How about a drink?" Nicole asked. "I know I could use one!"

"Sure" I said, as I pulled the pages out of the sleeve.

"Beer okay?"

I nodded. The sheets of paper were two single pages from an A4 exercise pad. I recognized my handwriting immediately, but the words were completely unfamiliar. If I had indeed written this, I did not recall doing so at all. As Nicole went to the fridge, I read the letter quietly to myself.

Dear Lionel. I have done many strange things in my life, but writing this letter to myself is probably among the strangest I've ever had to do! I can only imagine how you must feel, as you are reading this now, a year after I wrote it. If you're hoping I'm going to have all the answers for you, you're going to be disappointed, unfortunately. I can only give you a bit of advice that will hopefully, make this all seem worthwhile... whether it's going to change anything for the better or not, I can't say. I don't think that's how it works. At least, I'm not sure yet.

I paused as Nicole handed me an ice cold Castle Lager in the bottle, and I took a long swig. It was a delicious example of award winning South African beer! I continued reading.

First things first... if you are reading this, it means my little test worked and it may be possible to make minor changes to what we call our "future". The very fact that Nicole was able to pick you up at the hospital means that I was able to orchestrate that event happening today, almost a year ago! If that was possible, then I have to believe that it is also possible to change other things as well... If it wasn't for the fact that I experienced those moments in my future as I did, the precise moment's you have been living over the past few days, I'm not sure how else we could have tried to stop this! I know this makes no sense to you, but you have to believe me when I tell you that there are people out there who already have the knowledge and tools to change the world as we know it – and not for the better! We were naïve to think we could keep this thing a secret!

I paused to turn the page, and tried to process the words I was reading. I finished the rest of the beer in one long gulp and held the bottle out to Nicole. "I think I'm going to need a refill."

I continued reading as she took the empty bottle.

This all comes back to that first goddamned day with Andre and his stupid experiment! We never realised it would go this far! To be honest, not even I, at this stage, am sure of how to end it... but hopefully YOU can! If you got away in 2013, then maybe you can fix it all. As I write this, Viktor has already taken Andre, and he is untouchable to me or anyone else that would believe my story. Andre never imagined this thing would ever be anything other than a psychological mind trip into the "future-self" as he called it... and it was thought to be impossible that we could make CHANGES, but I know it's possible now because I've been there before! Viktor is ruthless when it comes to the Eye. I doubt he will keep Andre alive once he gets what he wants, and then I'm afraid to think what awaits the rest of the world once Viktor figures it all out!

There is only one thing I can tell you that needs to make any sense at all, and hopefully you will still be able to do something with it... you HAVE to get back to Jackie's house and find the Eye! It's the key that unlocks everything! When the ambulance took you, it was left on the floor of her lounge. It should still be there. Once you get it, destroy it forever! We can't change the past, but YOU can change the future! Please, please, please believe me! Destroy it today, and then move on with your life! Don't make the same mistake I made once before! I've set Nicole up to help you where she can.

_Lionel Hesse – 26th March, 2012_.

The words in the letter made no sense to me at all, and the date freaked me out even more. If I had been a stranger reading it, I would have no problem believing it had been written by a crazy person, a delusional man! There was no mistake. That was my signature, and as far as I could remember I was pretty normal – well, except for the fact that I had apparently strangled my wife to death, and then shot a police officer in the head... other than that of course.

"Did you read this?" I asked Nicole.

"Yes I did." She blushed, "I wasn't spying or anything, but you have to understand why, from my perspective. Some guy I hardly know comes up to me and gives me a parcel then asks me to remember to do one small thing one year later. It's pretty crazy! I had to make sure you weren't giving me something illegal, so you can imagine how relieved I was to find out it was just a letter."

"Does any of it make any sense to you at all?"

"I will tell you what DOES make sense... come with me." She stood up and walked up the stairs to the bedrooms. I followed her, curious to learn more. In her bedroom she approached the wall which faced the ocean, two large sliding windows were open and letting a cool sea breeze in. There was a concrete partition between the two windows, and hanging in the center of the partition was a framed item. She stopped in front of it.

"One year ago you asked me to do something that made no sense at the time. In exchange, you gave me this. You told me I would believe you when the time was right. I believed you two weeks later. And I still believe you now, no matter what the journalists say."

I approached the framed object. It was a small frame, about the size of an A5 photograph. The frame itself was simple varnished wood, and held a simple piece of paper. On it were a series of handwritten numbers."

"I don't understand." I said, frowning. "What does this mean?"

"You gave this to me in 2012 when you asked me for the favor. You told me to play them two weeks later, and I did."

"Play them?"

"They are lottery numbers." She said, and her face seemed to glow suddenly, "I won eleven million Rand with them, a single winner in the National Lotto draw. You asked me for a simple favor, and in exchange, you changed my life forever. I figured I owed you the benefit of the doubt, and whatever else you might need!"

"Holy crap" I said. "You're a millionaire!"

"No." she smiled. "We are.

### Chapter 8

We made our way back to the living room and the sofa. I read the letter from myself again, and tried to make as much sense of it as I could. A hundred questions were knocking impatiently at my brain, demanding answers or they were threatening to evict my sanity, and my cryptic note to self was doing little to satisfy their demanding curiosity. I decided the only way to decipher the meaning of the note was to analyze it line for line, which I was now doing. The first thing that stood out for me was the timing of the letter. I had written it almost a year ago, and according to Nicole it had been about eleven months, which put the date at somewhere around March of 2012. That was smack bang near the middle of my "dark" period, where I had no memories of anything I had done up to then or was going to do for another eleven months thereafter. Then I mentioned the "test" that I had done, which was to arrange with Nicole to be outside St Dominic's Hospital at exactly 20h30 today, the 14th of February, 2013. How would I have known that I would be coming out of a hospital, on the run from armed hooligans, and be at the curb at exactly that time if I had already written this letter eleven months ago? Was this relating to some sort of psychic phenomenon? Foresight? Vision? Just who were these people who had obtained some sort of deadly knowledge that could "change" the world? How were they linked to me? What was this knowledge? How would it change the world? And what secret were we naïve enough to think we could keep to ourselves, with "we" obviously being Andre and myself?"

From what I could understand, it somehow involved some sort of experiment he was doing that I was somehow involved in. Andre was a Science lecturer, with a Bachelor's degree in Physics, and a Master's degree in Chemistry. He had been lecturing at Fort Hare University with me for the past seven years. He gave classes to nerdy students on the Doppler Effect, geometrical optics, polarization, hydrostatics and Newton's Law of Friction! What on earth did this have to do with psychic phenomenon? In fact, a Science lecturer would probably be the last person to even consider such ridiculous insinuations. They wanted the facts, the tangible, the undeniable... not the fanciful or wishful thinking of paranormal enthusiasts!

Then, there was the reference to somebody named Viktor. Who is this person? Is he somehow linked to the attempts on my life? Why would he want me dead? What was the Eye? What was this thing? Did it have something to do with what Andre had termed a "psychological mind trip into the future self"? This made absolutely no sense to me at all, and was beginning to sound more and more like there was something paranormal about it. It also sounded like Andre was being hunted by this Viktor person. It was the final piece of the letter that really had me confused, though. I talk about needing to go back to my, to Jackie's, house and fetching this mysterious Eye, and that when I found it I needed to destroy it. My references to "Jackie's house" and "her lounge" were disconcerting, to say the least. The "me" who wrote the letter had obviously already accepted and lived through our divorce... the separation of possessions was clear here.

From all of this confusing information I was really focused on three things that stood out for me: What was the Eye and what was it for? In addition, what mysterious force allowed me to pinpoint its exact location out eleven months in the future? Finally, why was it so important for me to destroy this thing?

"Do you have any idea what this Eye thing is?" I asked Nicole.

"None at all" she replied, "As I said, you and Andre only mentioned once that you were busy with some sort of experiment. You also mentioned Viktor. That's about all I know, I'm sorry. I kind of got the impression that you didn't want me to know too much anyway... as a sort of protection?"

"That makes sense." I said. "It sounds like this whole thing was a bad idea from the beginning. Andre is probably dead, my wife – or ex-wife – is dead. They want me dead! There's a lot of dying going on around this thing they're calling the Eye!"

"Maybe that's one of the reasons you weren't very specific in your letter? In case it got into the wrong hands?"

I nodded. "Okay. So what now? I'm facing multiple murder charges, I have half of the city's police force looking for me, there's a psycho with an army of guns after me, and every person or thing that I know or thought I knew is either dead, forgotten or completely wrong!"

"Well, not every person" she smiled. "I'm still here."

I smiled back. "And I appreciate that! I don't know what I would have done without you tonight..."

She pulled her legs up onto the couch, tucking her knees under her chin. "Look, I don't think you would have gone to all that trouble 11 months ago to convince me to do what I did today, if there wasn't a very good reason for it. Maybe there is something that can fix all of this in that? We can't just sit here and wait until the cops or this Viktor person eventually figure out where you are, can we? We could leave the country of course – that's not a problem – I have shitloads of money thanks to you! Consider this though, what if you were right about everything you wrote in your letter? What if NOT destroying this Eye thing could mean that the world will change for the worse? What if it costs more lives? Could you live with yourself knowing that you could have prevented bad things from happening, but did nothing about it?"

I frowned. "You're basing that on the written words of what sounds like a lunatic!"

"No." she replied. "I'm basing that on your words."

She was right. I wasn't an illogical person, and as a mathematics fundi, I was overly specific and intentional in most of my day-to-day actions. This letter may have seemed random and not very well thought out, but that's not how I would normally do things. That only makes it more confusing. What was so important that I had to hide the simple facts in incoherent ramblings? On the other hand, were they even my own words? Had I maybe been forced to write this letter? Was finding and destroying the Eye just a ploy to hand me over to Viktor, and was I warning myself of that with the letter?

"I've got a bad feeling about this." I said, and Nicole touched my hand with hers.

"Then act on it." she said softly. "Let's make a difference!"

I folded the letter in half, placed it back into the plastic sleeve and then the leather folder, and tossed it onto the coffee table. "If this is true," I said, gesturing at the folder, "then I have to follow my own instructions, as crazy as they sound."

"Let's do it!" she said excitedly. "Let's go find this Eye thing, destroy it, organize you a fake passport and get the hell out of this country! I've always wanted to go to South America! It's still so untouched there! Jungles, beaches and privacy!"

I laughed. "Whoa! Slow down there, piranha! Do you even know where to organize a fake passport?"

She lifted her eyebrows. "No, but we have eleven million Rand. We'll figure it out." She laughed.

I smiled at her enthusiasm. What were my options here? I really only had two choices. Nicole's plan of getting and destroying the Eye and then leaving the country, or handing myself over to the cops and spending the rest of my life behind bars for something I'm not even sure I did!

"We're going to need some supplies." I said eventually, and Nicole leapt off the couch and swung around in a circle, arms spread, with the enthusiasm of a child who had just received the best birthday present ever.

"What do we need?" she asked, spinning to a stop in front of me, her eyes sparkling.

"Torches, balaclavas and a crow bar to start with. That should get us into the house. From there, if we find anything, we will have to figure it out as we go."

"I have all of those in the garage." She said, and when she saw my suspicious frown, she laughed. "I keep a torch for power failures; I have balaclavas from a short skiing trip I took to Switzerland for Christmas last year, and a crowbar in the trunk of my car. What are we waiting for?"

"I don't suppose I gave you any decent shoes to keep for me in that parcel, did I?" I asked, looking down at my slipslops.

"Upstairs in the guest bedroom" she replied. "It's on the bed."

I headed up the stairs, and for the first time since waking up on Monday morning I felt as if I knew what I had to do and what my purpose was. I had a target, a goal. It was funny how working towards something would end up meaning so much. Up to this point I had been floundering in my own confusion, I felt as if I had been riding a runaway train, but now I was in the driving seat and it had given me the motivation and direction I was both lacking and needing! Yes, there were still unanswered questions and some confusion, but I felt confident that moving towards the problem instead of drowning in it would allow me to understand and clarify things a bit. I needed answers and I wasn't going to get those answers by sitting on my ass and waiting for the world to return to normal again. Nothing was normal for me anymore and things would never be normal again, I realised that now.

Lionel Hesse from 2010 was a dead man. This new version of me from 2013 was alive... and dangerous... and for the first time in my entire life, completely in control... at least, that's how it felt.

### Chapter 9

As we drove through the dark night towards the city, I couldn't help but feel a bit nervous. Going back to the place where Jackie had died was one thing, but going back there as the man who had possibly ended her life was another thing completely. There were so many thoughts and memories flitting through my mind right now, most of them were wonderful reminders of a life once lived, of a woman once loved – still loved - and of how precious those seemingly insignificant moments had suddenly become, after the fact. Why was it that we were completely oblivious to the simplest things – a touch of the hand, a kind word, a hug goodbye – until it was too late and we realize we can never have those moments back again? Were our brains programmed to filter out the significance of them in order to save storage space for less important facts or memories? Was getting that promotion any more important than the last time you kissed your wife? Was the birth of your sister-in-law's child any less important than the last time you told someone you loved them?

As we passed the airport heading down Settlers Way, the warm orange glow of the overhead streetlights formed bubbles of orange light over the road before us. We passed through these and the comparison from dark to orange was almost hypnotic. I was exhausted – not from lack of sleep, just emotionally. My brain felt like it had tried to absorb too much information over the past few hours that I'd been awake, and was now reaching a point where it had to defragment itself, or bomb out. This sensation had me zoning in and out of awareness to the beat of the orange bubbles on the road. Nicole had turned the radio on, and there was music playing softly – nothing that I recognized, though. She was tapping her fingers on the steering wheel to it.

"Who is that?" I asked.

"FUN" she replied. "Some Nights."

"Okay." I replied. "Not this night, that's for sure."

She laughed nervously. "I can turn it off, if you like?"

"No." I said. "Turn it up rather... it's better than listening to myself trying to think."

She dialed the volume up, and the band had reached a crescendo in their song, belting out the chorus in unison, many voices together.

Some nights I wish that this all would end, because I could use some friends for a change. And some nights I'm scared you'll forget me again, some nights I always win, I always win...

The words were haunting and so relevant right now, and the music lifted my spirits a bit. Music was my gravity at this point in time, as it was keeping my feet on the ground while my head played in the stars – against my will.

"Do you know where she lived?" Nicole asked.

I nodded. It had been our home for twelve years. We bought the house the same year we got married. It was our pride and joy – owning something that would be around in our family for generations had always been our dream. We got the house for a steal too! A few years after we bought it the property prices skyrocketed in the wake of a global depression. The market became volatile, and homeowners were trying to milk as much out of their houses as they could get. For the first time in our South African history, the average house price exceeded a million Rand. We had paid around R430 000 for ours, and within a few years it had been valued at R1 300 000. We could have sold it then, paid the bond up and bought a smaller house for cash if we wanted to, but it was impossible for us to let it go... it was our baby!

"It's in Beacon Bay" I replied. "49 Edge Road."

We were passing through the city center, and then onto the Beachfront and the North East Expressway which led out towards the N2 and N6 Highways which would from there take you to any of the surrounding towns and provinces, including Umtata, Queenstown and King William's Town. Nestled a few kilometers from these highways was the middle to upper class suburb of Beacon Bay, a neighborhood almost entirely independent from the main city, as it had its own malls, chemists, doctors, schools, garages, and banks. If it weren't for the fact that most of its residents had to commute to the city to get to their jobs, one could have survived without ever leaving the Bay, as they called it. Edge Road was in a newer section of the suburb. Several of the houses were only recently built, but near the end of the long road, the older and more established properties stood as ethereal guardians of the area. They had beautiful gardens and high walls that reflected the human quest for beauty within and the simultaneous subconscious fear of the real world beyond.

I showed Nicole where to stop, choosing a quiet section of road about thirty meters from our – Jackie's – house. She parked and switched off the car, and then we sat in the darkness for a few minutes as I surveyed the area. It was very quiet. Most folks had already gone to sleep, with it being a school night they would be up early getting lunches made and hair combed. Of the six houses, we could see from our vantage point, only one still had its lights on, but it was behind us and a fair distance from my old house.

"Are you ready?" I asked.

"You bet" she started opening the car door, and I grabbed her arm. "Follow my lead, and keep your eyes open. If these guys who were trying to kill me at the hospital are at all serious, they will know about this house and might be watching."

She nodded then stepped out of the car. I followed suit after popping the trunk. We met at the rear of the Audi, and I grabbed the crowbar, resting it in my left hand and along the inside of my arm so that it would not be immediately noticeable. I shoved the balaclavas, which now seemed like overkill, in the normality of the sleeping neighborhood, into the back of my jeans and covered them with my shirt. Nicole grabbed the torches in one hand, tucked under the sleeve of her red leather jacket. I took her free hand, and for a second she squeezed my hand tightly, smiled, and then laced her fingers through mine. We walked down the sidewalk towards number 49, just an innocent pair of youngish lovers on a late evening stroll. It was a cool evening; the lack of cloud cover had evaporated all the warmth from the day already, and the stars were astonishingly visible, offering us a clear view of the Milky Way. A dog barked a distance away, a slow rolling bark that echoed through the silence of the night, and it was a creepy sound. As we came up on number 49, I took a moment to study my old house. It was in a slight dip with a gated driveway running down towards the house. The front door was surrounded by a hedge of Ochna Purpurea, or the Mickey Mouse plant, as they called it, and the door had been covered with yellow police tape. There was a four-foot brick wall around the property, and a few solar powered garden lamps were casting a pleasant light into the neat garden and driveway.

I held onto Nicole's hand and led her past the gate, which allowed access into the driveway. As we neared the end of the property wall, I gave a quick glance around us. The street was deserted. I quickly led her towards the wall, hoisted her up and onto it, and she swung herself over into the yard. I followed suit, tossing the crowbar onto the short grass of the lawn. On the other side of the wall we crouched still for a second, waiting for any sign that somebody had spotted our suspicious late night entry, but there was nothing except the lazy barking from far away. Still crouching, we made our way around to the left side of the house. There was a dividing wall, which separated the backyard from the front, and a small gate led through it. I reached over the gate, feeling for the clasp that undid it, and then we slipped through. The gate had not been oiled for a while, and squeaked loud enough to make us pause. I pushed it closed again as quietly as possible, and then we made our way around to the back of the house. The backyard was almost exactly as I remembered it, a sloping downhill grass area, a kidney shaped swimming pool built in the center of it, with a tiled area to the right and a few plastic tanning benches and a small plastic table on it. We had experienced so many wonderful memories at that pool! I could almost hear the splashing of water and her uncontrollable laughter, as I would chase her through it...

Focus!

There were six stairs leading up to the rear of the house, to a singular back door on the right, which led into the laundry. It was also taped up with police tape, and as we reached it, I could see the wood around the lock and frame had been splintered. I realised the crowbar would not be needed, as I tore off the tape and the door swung open freely, revealing its inner darkness. There was a faint dried muddy footprint visible on the door in the moonlight, just to the left of the door handle, and Detective Coetzee's ghostly words floated briefly past the back of my mind...

...we found the backdoor kicked in, a muddy impression matched the Nike shoes you were wearing...

The imprint did look to be about my shoe size, but the cops had already taken those shoes as evidence, so I had nothing to compare the pattern to. Inside the laundry, a doorway led through to the kitchen and in the dim light, the white tiles reflected an eerie glow throughout the room. I reached over to Nicole, gesturing for the flashlight and she handed it over. I switched it on and swung the light around the room. The cupboards were all pinewood, beautifully finished and treated. I had spent three straight days installing them myself, and I could almost still smell the sawdust of those days in the air. The sink was empty, and a dish rack on the end of the counter had been overturned, spilling out washed plates and cups, a few of them broken in pieces on the floor. The fridge and microwave were both clean and working, as the microwave was flashing its digital green time at us. 22:49. There was a trail of streaky dry blood leading from the sink and out through the archway to the living room.

I led the way through the kitchen, stepping over the dried blood, then through the large arched entrance of the living room. We had chosen to enlarge the doorway between the kitchen and living room in order to give a sense of semi-open plan and for easy access through the house, so there was no door. As the flashlight lit the room on the other side of the arch, my heart skipped a beat and a cold sweat covered my forehead and neck.

The carpet was a cream longhaired Belgotex special edition that we had picked out together. It was a great carpet, luxurious and beautiful to look at, but right now, it made my stomach turn. The large strangely shaped stain in the center of the floor stood out like the period bleeding of a teenage girl against her white panties would, and the trail of blood led from it and past our feet into the kitchen. There was a dark chalk line drawn in a weird shape next to the stain, and I realized that was where Jackie's body had lain. The sight of that dark stain and that childish outline had me frozen in place for a moment, but it was Nicole's hand on my arm that jerked my mind back to reality. I nodded and moved forward, but the stain held my focus and refused to let go! I remembered lying on that carpet, bleeding out, staring at the door and wishing I were outside. I remembered turning over to see Jackie's dead body lying behind me. I remember the pain and the agony of that moment more than I remember the pain and agony of the wound I was bleeding from... I could not imagine having to experience that moment again in my life... it would destroy me!

"What does this thing look like?" Nicole whispered to my left.

I looked at her, thankful for an excuse to tear my eyes away from that awful spot on the living room carpet. "I'm not sure. I've never seen it before, that I can remember".

"Well, you called it "the Eye" in your letter. Does that not ring any bells?"

I shone the torch around the room, trying to catch a glimpse of something that would jolt my memory and reveal the mysterious object to me, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. The usual items, a vase on the coffee table, a magazine rack, a leather covered footrest, the TV and DSTV remotes on the couch... nothing unusual! I moved forward, trying to avoid the stained evil by as much distance as possible, and approached the front door. As I passed the single-seater sofa between the door and the bloodstain my foot kicked, something and it rolled forward into the wooden leg of the sofa with a thud.

Nicole let out a stifled shout at the noise, and I quickly held up my finger to my lips to keep her quiet. I knelt down on one knee and shone the light under the sofa and the object I had kicked reflected the light straight back at me, piercingly bright in the glare of the torch. I reached my arm in under the sofa and grabbed the silver ball. It was weighty and solid, similar to the iron ball bearings we used to use as marbles at school, only closer to the size of a tennis ball, fitting in the palm of my hand, my fist not able to close completely around it. I stood up, holding the object in my palm, and shone the flashlight directly onto it. The metal was highly polished, almost mirrored, and it reflected the light of the torch up onto the ceiling and walls of the living room. On either side of it, there were single oval indentations about the size of my thumb. It was perfectly spherical and had no other lines or distinguishing features other than the indents. I looked curiously across at Nicole.

"Do you think this is it?" I asked in an excited whisper.

She shrugged and smiled then reached over to run her fingers over the surface of the sphere as it lay in my palm. "It's weird enough not to be lying around in the living room, I guess? And it does sort of look like an eye – or at least a large metal eyeball."

I smiled and nodded. "Great! Now we just have to figure out how exactly to get rid of this thing! Before seeing it I was hoping we could just burn it, but it looks like this needs to be dropped from a boat in the middle of the..."

A cracking sound near my left ear made me flinch suddenly, and a waft of air followed which was strong enough to lift my fringe. I was still trying to figure out what the hell had happened when I lifted the torch to look across at Nicole. She was still staring at the Eye, but her face was motionless and a mysterious, small dark dot had appeared on her forehead. As I watched, the dot slowly doubled in size and then developed a single creeping leg, trailing downwards and turning dark red. It was only as she went completely limp and collapsed at my feet in an uncomfortable heap that I realised it was a bullet hole.

### Chapter 10

My heart literally stopped working. For what seemed like an eternity, I was frozen in one spot. I heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing. It was as if a huge dark blanket had been thrown over my mind, and it had shut it down completely. I was in limbo and it was so peaceful I wanted to stay there forever and ever. In this safe place, nothing seemed to matter anymore. I didn't care about anything as long as I wasn't thinking about anything!

Then, the peacefulness disappeared.

The sounds of the night returned to me and it was like being hit by a cricket bat as they tore into my head. The banging of my heart against my chest, my breath as my lungs sucked in air, the twinkling sound of glass as it hit the coffee table before bouncing off onto the carpet, the liquid pouring sound of the blood as it dripped from Nicole's shattered skull; and then the squeaking of a gate. I recognized the sound of the gate at the side of the house where Nicole and I had entered, and I knew they were coming. Before the second bullet could even fire, I had dropped to the floor, and the cacophony of cracking air and concrete thuds around me replaced any other sounds as bullets flew over my prone body and into the walls of the living room and kitchen.

I had scrunched my eyes closed as I dropped and when I opened them, I was staring at Nicole's face through the fine concrete and foam dust that had filled the room. A strong sensation of déjà vu came over me, as this scene was so similar to when I had seen Jackie lying in this same spot next to me on the floor, lifeless eyes staring back at me, the cream softness of the carpet pressing into my face. I felt a moment of utter guilt as I stared Nicole's dead blue eyes, realizing that she would still be alive if I had left her at home, or if we had arrived a few minutes earlier, or if we had decided to leave the country immediately and ignore the stupid letter I wrote to myself. This craziness had cost lives. Innocent lives. The lives of two beautiful, lovely women that I cared about and who had done nothing but try and love or help me! How much longer would this madness continue? How many more would die in the name of Lionel Hesse?

The realization struck me like a ton of bricks. With Nicole gone, there was nobody in this world who I could turn to right now! Jackie was dead, her family would probably kill me on sight if they saw me, Andre has been dead or missing for almost a year, the cops want me in jail, and these motherfuckers with the guns just want me dead. I was at a complete dead end with nowhere to go and no one to turn to. Fear and confusion reigned, and I had no idea what the next move was supposed to be.

I felt the cold pressure of the silver ball in my hand. I looked down at it, as the shooting continued around me. Was this what had caused all of this mayhem? Was this the reason for everything that had happened up to this point? I had tried to warn myself in the letter to get rid of it. It was an evil that was not meant to be, and it was up to me to make sure that it never had the opportunity to destroy lives again. I realised that these men who had been hunting me down and trying to kill me, who had just killed Nicole and eight innocent people at the hospital, were after something. Was it the Eye? Was this what they wanted? Why? What would they possibly need with it?

I wasn't sure of all the answers, but I was certain of one thing right now. I would not give it to them. No matter what! I was already a dead man. I had nothing left to look forward to in life anyway. If I died right now, what difference would it make? It would be a blessing for me. A gift. I welcomed death with open arms, but before that came, I had a task to complete. Enough lives had been lost in mysterious quest to find this silver item, and it appeared I was the only thing standing between these killers and it. I would not die an unlived life. I had read that in a poem once, but I couldn't recall which one. The words moved me. I would not die an unlived life. It was time to stand up and live.

The shooting had stopped briefly, and I could hear someone entering through the back door, their rubber soled boots squealing as they crossed the tiles into the kitchen. I heard the crackle of a two-way radio as the shooters at the front of the house communicated with the guy inside. There was no time for me to move from my position without being seen, so I did the next sensible thing. I lay still, pretending I was dead. The sound of footsteps on tiles reached the edge of the living room carpet, and became muffled brushing as the intruder approached the spot where Nicole and I lay. I heard his knee crack as he bent next to her, heard a gloved hand turn her head towards him as he felt for a pulse, and heard the shuffle of his pants as he moved towards me on his knees. I could feel the air temperature change around my head as his hand reached for my neck to feel for a pulse. The second it touched my skin I reacted!

I rolled over to my right, simultaneously grabbing the intruder's arm with my right hand before he could yank it away. I swung my left arm upwards and towards where I guessed his head would be and my elbow connected with a cracking thud. It hurt like hell, and a shock of pain travelled up my arm as the nerves in my elbow tried to react to the sudden impact. I had done enough with the blow to knock the man backwards, and I continued rolling over until I was on my stomach again, and then up on all fours. I leapt forward at him as he fell back and was on top of him at the same time he landed with his back on the carpet, even as he was raising his rifle, which I pushed back down with my left hand. It fired several times, burning my hand as the barrel heated up. I still had the Eye in my right hand, and I raised it as high as I could and brought it smashing down into his face. The combined weight of the Eye itself and the downward force of my arm were no match for the soft bones of his frontal skull and nose. His face collapsed inwards and pink fluid and grey matter spilled out from an opened crack in his forehead.

Do or die.

The words had never meant more than they did right now. I was at the end of my rope. I was tired of these nameless bitches ruining my life! I was taking it back. My life... lived!

It had gone quiet now. I froze in position, one hand still raised above my head, the silver face of the Eye now covered in bright sticky red. I heard a voice shout from out front, and I knew they had seen what I had done, and were coming. I heard the running footsteps of at least three men on the paving of the driveway out front, and knew it would be only seconds before they were bursting through the front door. I was praying that the neighbours had already phoned the police for the gunshots from earlier, they had surely woken the entire Bay. I wasn't going to hang around waiting for the cops to save me just to lock me up again. I needed to get rid of this Eye thing first. That was the whole point, wasn't it? I had to make the deaths of Jackie and Nicole worth something! I had no idea how many men were around the house, but I had to take my chances on the path less travelled. There were three headed at the front door, and I had dispatched the one that came through the back. My gut was telling me the backdoor was the way to go.

I pounced to my feet and sped towards the kitchen. I braced myself for a frontal attack from a second intruder as I rounded the archway and hit the tiles, but the kitchen was clear. As I exited through the laundry and back door, my foot caught on the ledge at the door and I launched forward onto the steps, rolling over several times, and coming to a stop only inches away from the swimming pool. I looked around quickly but the back yard was clear. I heard the front door bang open, and then loud voices from inside the house followed by a few short bursts of gunfire. I stood up, ran towards the right hand side of the yard, and leapt up over the wall and into the neighbour's yard. As I landed on their side of the wall between the bushes, I leaned back against the wall and held burning hand close to my chest.

I heard the back door swing open, and the rubber footsteps on the small porch at the top of the stairs. They were talking in muffled voices, and I could hear the same foreign accent I had heard on the cop's phone in the hospital. I couldn't understand what they were saying, but one guy in particular was barking out the orders. They must have spread out, because I soon heard one of them at the wall behind me, pushing the foliage aside with his rifle as he scoured the back yard for me. I kept my eyes shut and held my breath until he had moved further down the yard. With the sounds of my pursuers becoming distant from where I was, I made a move. I stepped out of the foliage and onto the short grass of the neighbor's lawn. It was a long exposed trek through his property to the front of the house and it was full moon, so there was really nowhere to hide. I had to hope that I was going to make it unseen just on pure luck. The gods must have been feeling sorry for my ass because no sudden alarm was raised by the time I had reached the front wall. I quickly leapt over it and into the street, crouching in the shadows.

The black SUV Land Rover was parked in front of Jackie's house with the doors standing open. I couldn't see anyone around it but the street had started to become a hive of activity as lights were going on in houses all around us. The dogs were barking madly. Gunfire in the Bay was not a common occurrence and curious neighbours were determined to find out what was going on. This worked to my advantage, as the movement of people would give me some cover as I made my way back to the Audi. It was only when I reached it that I realised I didn't have any keys! Nicole had put them in her pocket before we entered the house!

Damn it!

Without transport I was screwed. There was no way I was going to disappear in the suburbs on foot! I was about to start running up the street anyway when I suddenly realized that a vehicle was waiting in plain sight for me, doors open! The Land Rover was about thirty meters from me. I figured the gunmen would be leaving the house very soon now that they had attracted some attention in the neighborhood. From a distance I heard a police siren and I knew that time was running out. Fast! I sprinted with all the speed I could manage towards the Land Rover. The wound in my abdomen was burning as my legs pounded their way towards the car. I had one shot at this. I had to hope the keys were still in the ignition. I had to hope the gunmen didn't suddenly appear in front of me. I had to hope I didn't trip. I dove into the driver's seat of the Land Rover just as I caught a glimpse of the front door of 49 Edge Road opening and a dark figure emerging. He shouted and I knew I had zero time left. My hand reached forward for the ignition and I was praying a silent prayer to every god imaginable that the keys would be there for me. It would suck if it were to end with me stuck in this metal coffin as I was used for target practice by foreign hit men! It would suck real badly!

Please Lord! Let the keys be there!

### Chapter 11

The jingle of a key ring against keys was a huge relief! I swung the key and the Land Rover's big engine fired to life. I tossed the Eye on the passenger seat, slammed the gears into first, and then pressed my foot flat to the floor. The wheels spun, screaming in protest and billowing out a plume of thick rubber-smelling smoke. The backend of the car spun around, drifting on the particles of melting rubber that had formed a slippery mess between the tyres and the tar. When I was facing back up the road, it leapt forward like a tiger attacking a gazelle just as the gunmen opened fire. I sped past Nicole's Audi and a lump formed in my throat as I realised I was leaving her behind now after she had chosen not to leave me behind once before!

As I raced through the Bay and then onto the North East Expressway, several police vehicles, blue lights flashing and sirens wailing, passed me in the opposite direction. By the time I had reached the Beachfront two ambulances passed me by. I shuddered to think that more people may have been hurt or killed back at the house, there was too much death lately as it was! Within minutes, I had passed the airport and was on the R72 heading towards Winterstrand. I'm not sure why I chose that route. It seemed to be the only logical place to be right now. The route seemed ideal though, as it was close to the sea and I needed to get rid of this goddamn Eye – the sooner the better! Besides, I had nowhere else to go! It wasn't long before I was pulling into Nicole's driveway and parking in front of the garage. The remote for the garage was in the Audi so I had to find another way into the house.

I headed up the stairs to the front door. It was a wooden door with small glass windows. I took my shirt off, catching a whiff of the iron smell of blood as it passed over my head, wrapped it around my right hand and the Eye, and then punched my arm straight through the pane closest to the handle. It was a simple bolt and latch that I quickly unlocked and then I was inside. I was huffing and puffing, mostly from the adrenaline I think, and as I looked down at my sweat and blood covered torso I realised I needed to lie down. Just lie down and sleep forever. Screw everything else! I dragged myself upstairs to Nicole's bedroom and flopped down on the bed, not caring that I was getting blood all over the expensive bedspread. I still had the Eye in my right hand and my shirt wrapped around it. I rolled over, sat up on the edge of the bed, and unrolled the shirt. I held the Eye up in front of me, balanced on my palm. An image of my face and torso was reflected back at me, tainted in red smudges of blood. This was a perfect interpretation of my life now. Covered in the blood of those I cared about.

I tossed the Eye aside and it rolled along the bedspread. I stood up and headed for the en-suite bathroom. I needed to clean up. My dressing had come loose and was hanging in a scarlet ribbon. In the bathroom, I washed my face with ice-cold water, splashed some down my chest and behind my neck, and then dried off with one of Nicole's towels. I unwrapped the dressing and tossed it on the floor. The gauze she had used to cover the knife wound was still intact but I peeled it off and grabbed the bottle of iodine Nicole had used earlier. I splashed some onto the wound and it burnt like hell. I placed the gauze back and wrapped some fresh bandages around my abdomen, pulling it as tight as I could bear. I sat on the toilet seat for a moment, suddenly feeling light headed. It took a few moments for the feeling to pass and I began feeling better. I noticed a magazine rack next to the toilet and rifled through it. Stuck near the back was a newspaper. I pulled it out and opened it up, trying to distract myself temporarily from everything that had just happened and that was still bouncing around in my mind. It was an old copy of the Daily Dispatch, dated the 7th of February 2013, a week ago. I scanned the pages quickly, not really reading anything but just feeding the information to my tired mind as a distraction.

I put the newspaper back in the rack and stood up with some effort. I was so completely exhausted but I just knew I had to get to work on destroying the Eye before it was too late. As I went back to the bedroom a cool breeze from the open sliding windows drew me to them, and I stood there a moment just soaking in the gentle coldness of the sea air and staring out at the distant white foaming of waves as they touched the shore in the moonlight. It was a beautiful sight. The moon had lit a path across the vast ocean and it was almost ethereal. There was still so much beauty in this country and this world! It was such a pity that we were often too busy to stop and take notice of it! As I turned away from the windows, I paused at the framed lottery numbers I had given to Nicole once.

6 – 14 – 24 – 29 - 32 – 41

It was ironic. The six was my birth month of June, the 24th was my birthday, the 29th was Jackie's birthday, and the other 3 numbers all added up to 5, my lucky number. What were the odds of that happening? Of course, I was mature enough to realize that the mind will often make its own connections to random numbers in an effort to apply some sort of purpose to the chaotic nature of human existence. We had to believe that there was a reason for everything or else what would the point to all of this be? We made up fantastical tales of our origins, built religions around them, and chastised anyone who came up with a more factual and natural version. This was the nature of man.

I turned and looked at where the Eye rested on Nicole's bed. It looked like the useless inanimate object that it was. It was just a simple metal ball, which seemed to serve no real purpose at all. There was nothing fantastical about it - nothing that would grant it supernatural status. It was just a stupid metal object! Yet it had caused so much pain and suffering – not just for me, but for other innocent people as well. What was it about this damned thing that had everyone so hyped up? Why was it so high on the agenda of European hit men that they would openly attract attention just to get hold of it? Now that I had it in my possession, what would I do with it? I knew what my old self wanted me to do. Destroy it. No other option. Part of me believed that it would be the right thing to do, but the analytical part of my brain, the part that led me into a career of Mathematics and teaching, was asking the other question. What difference is it going to make? The damage is already done. Jackie is dead. Nicole is dead. My life is over. I have no money, no car, and no house. I am wanted by the police, and if caught will spend the rest of my life in jail. If the Russians, or whatever they were, got me first, then I was a dead man anyway. So what difference is it really going to make to me whether or not it is destroyed? I could gift wrap it and post it to the bad guys and it would still not change anything that had already happened!

I picked the Eye up off the bed, and a moment of intense fury came over me, where for a moment I wanted to hurl it out the window with all my might, screaming as it disappeared into the dark night. I held back though, and the feeling passed but left a hollow sensation in my gut. I hated this thing! I closed my hand around it and then fell face first down on the bed. I just needed a ten-minute nap to clear my mind! I closed my eyes and I would have passed out if it weren't for an irritating voice in the back of my head the whole time...

Get up! They're coming!

Fuck off! I wanted to tell it. Just leave me alone! Its persistence was getting louder and that headache was coming back – pressing the sides of my skull gently at first but then harder and harder.

Get up! Now!

I pulled a pillow over my head, hoping it would drown out the voice and the pain, but it only seemed to make it louder. I was just about to scream out at the top of my lungs when it stopped. Completely. Dead Silence.

I lifted my head out from under the pillow and listened at the silent house. Nothing. Not even the sound of the ocean through the sliding windows anymore.

Then, from out of nowhere, it yelled at the inside of my head, so loud I thought it was going to burst my eardrums, a booming giant voice...

THEY ARE HERE!

I bounced upright. I heard a tyres screech a distance away, and then the sound of at least two cars heading up Nicole's road at high speed. I stood up, grabbed the Eye, and rushed over to the window. Twin headlights were approaching the house, and they screeched to a stop outside. The doors of the as yet unrecognizable vehicles opened up and at least six to eight figures raced up the stairs below me and without pausing crashed through the closed front door. I turned to face the closed bedroom door, my back to the wall between the two sliding windows. My head bumped the framed lottery numbers off the wall and it fell and smashed at my feet.

This was it, I thought. There was no way out now. I could jump out the window and make a run for it if I didn't break my legs, but how far would I get? These guys were relentless! They have been finding me everywhere I went. Nicole's house was my last safe haven and now even that was gone!

What about tomorrow? My mind was asking.

Forget tomorrow!

I looked down at the Eye in my hand. This was what they wanted? I would give it to them, but not without a fight! As I rolled it around between my fingers, I must have simultaneously touched the two indentations on either side of the ball because a very small jolt of electricity zapped my fingers and I almost drop it. My fingers were numbed from the shock, and I was surprised to learn that there was some sort of electrical component to the mysterious metal ball.

The men had reached the stairs and I could hear them trundling up as one. I could hear rifles being cocked and a tension in their shouting voices. They had reached the landing and were headed towards the bedroom, kicking other doors open as they went, firing haphazardly into the rooms.

I placed my thumb and my middle finger in the two indentations on the Eye and held it like a bowler would hold a cricket ball before launching it at 100km/hr at its target. I was going to take the first guy who came through that door out no matter what! A flying metal ball to the head. Go down fighting! As the footsteps reached the door and it was kicked in, I took a step forward, pulled my arm back, and began my pitch. The two fingers in the indentations pressed down hard for grip and I was ready to hurl it forward.

Click!

The sound accompanied a secondary jolt of small electricity to my fingers as they pressed into the indentations and seemed to dislodge them, but this time the sensation seemed to travel up my arm to my neck and then to my head. Bright intense flashes of light suddenly pierced my vision, and that familiar blinding headache stabbed into my brain like two thousand sharp needles. The door was opening slowly. It had been kicked in from the other side, but the motion of it opening was super slow. I could actually see the tiny shards of wood as they flew into the air, and trace the path of each one in slow motion. As the gunman came into view, he was raising his AK47 in my direction. At eye level, he fired and the barrel sparked brightly but the bullet seemed to leave the gun without any rush. I could watch it's trajectory as it headed straight for my head, I could see the force of its speed pushing the air through which it travelled to the side, as a car would move air in a wind tunnel. The fireworks in my head were going wild now. Reds, blues, greens, whites and the occasional black were all stabbing my mind without order, and through this kaleidoscope of colorful pain, I was still watching the bullet as it approached me.

I moved my head to the side but it was also moving in slow motion, and I was hoping I could get it out of the way before the bullet struck me. It was going to be a close call! As the Eye increased the velocity of its electrical surge through my body, I got the strangest smell.

Watermelons!

I was still trying to remember where I had smelt the watermelons before when the fireworks just stopped completely. My eyes rolled back in my head as I felt myself starting to fall backwards into myself... into my mind... into the darkness. The sounds of bullets were fading now, and pretty soon, there was nothing but the darkness and the silence.

I thought I was dead for a moment. In the vacuum of nothingness around me, I noticed a small pinpoint of light that was getting closer and larger. It hovered in front of my inner vision for a moment, as if analyzing me, trying to work me out, before it turned a bright blue color and then slowly doubled up on itself, and opened up into an instantly recognizable object.

The Eye stared at me through the darkness. Crystal blue with a hint of red in the slanted pupil...

Then it blinked.

### Chapter 12

If you've ever heard the everyday sounds of a busy house while your head is under the water in a bathtub, then you would understand what I was hearing right now. Distant and muffled noises, knocks, and bangs, voices that I knew were voices but could not make out exactly what they were saying. A constant stream of noise that was almost jelly-like in its consistency, thick and distorted and vibrating. As the noise came into focus, as your head comes out of the water, there was a popping sound. Sudden crystal clarity and increased volume. The first clear words I could hear were coming from a male voice, a familiar voice.

"Wake up."

As I tried to place the familiar voice in my head, I was also trying to go back into that hazy area of under-water type peacefulness. It was calm there.

"Lionel!"

A loud cracking sound, and then my face started to sting on the one side. I snapped my eyes open. Someone had just slapped me!

"What the..." I started to say, and then I paused as the room I was in came into focus, throwing me temporarily off balance. It was a study. Rows and rows of oak and dark wood bookshelves, filled and overflowing with books of all shapes and sizes. I could smell the pure leather smell of the brown sofa I was lying on, and the faint aroma of Rum and Maple pipe tobacco, interlaced with an underlying smell of old dust. Looking up at the high ceiling, I could see that it hadn't been dusted in a long time, as several wispy cobwebs were hanging between the wooden rafters. I could hear laughter and voices outside the windows, which were letting a stream of sunshine into the room, highlighting the thousands of dust particles that were hanging about in the air. I turned my head to the right, towards the person who was trying to speak to me in the background.

"Jesus Christ!" I whispered, as I recognized the bearded and bespectacled face of Andre North. I tried to sit up but my head was spinning and I got nauseous to the point of wanting to throw up. Andre leaned forward from his seat in a large leather black armchair next to the sofa and pressed on my chest to make me lie back down.

"Relax!" he said, in the smooth rolling tone of someone who had been a lecturer all their life and had developed their voice to maximum volume and pitch. "Take it easy! You're going to pass out again! Shit, you've scared me once already today!"

"What the hell am I doing here?" I asked, and my voice was raspy as I tried closing my eyes for a moment until my head stopped spinning. "How did you find me?"

"Find you?" Andre chuckled softly, in a way that only he could chuckle, perfected over years of having to listen to a thousand silly answers from a thousand students. "You've been here all afternoon, buddy."

"No, no, no." I muttered, and tried to sit up again, this time a bit slower. My head wasn't spinning as much this time around, and I was soon in a seated position, but I kept my eyes closed against the bright sunlight from the windows. "I mean, how did you get me out of Nicole's place? I thought I was dead!"

"Nicole?" He laughed softly. "Man, did you turn this thing into a sex-fantasy? Was she at least hotter than that quarter pounder with cheese I tried to pick up at Bernie's last week? Don't tell Kim I said that!"

His replies were making no sense, and something felt wrong. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but it was scratching at the back of my head like a puppy scratching at a door to get in. I opened my eyes and looked down at my hands. I was still holding the Eye in my right hand, its metallic face staring back at me with a distorted copy of my own. I tossed it hurriedly away from me, as if it were burning my hands, and simultaneously attempted to stand up, but my head spun and I almost fell over.

"Whoa there!" Andre exclaimed, and grabbed the sleeve of my shirt to pull me back. "Be careful with that, man! You know it's the only one! Jesus, dude!"

"What are you talking about... and where did these clothes come from?" I asked, looking down at myself.

I was wearing brown corduroy pants, a long sleeve grey flannel shirt, and a pair of polished black Grasshoppers. I had no idea how I had come to be dressed in them!

"Sit back down." He said. "You're obviously still confused. Let me get you some water."

I sat down on the sofa as Andre had suggested. He poured a glass of water from a pitcher filled with ice water and handed it to me. I took a few long swallows, holding my hand to my stomach as I arched my neck up to drink, but just as quickly jerked it away when I touched the area of my knife wound with my hand. I put the glass down on a side table and pulled my shirt up. There were no bandages, no gauze, no blood, and no wounds! I lifted my left hand to my face, there were no burns.

"What the fuck!?" I whispered, pressing into the area where I had only a few minutes ago had a bleeding knife wound. There was nothing there - my skin was unbroken. Not even a scar. "What is going on!?"

"Lionel! Andre said. "You need to relax man. You're fine, just disoriented. Give it a couple of minutes."

"Where the hell am I?" I asked him, my voice cracking. I was starting to regain my balance and orientation and from the tone of my voice, he could tell that I needed an answer immediately.

"You're in my office, at the University. You've been here all afternoon."

"No..." I swallowed. My heart racing. "No. I know where I am. I mean, when... when am I?"

"When?" Andre laughed. "What type of question is that, man?"

"What year is it?" I shouted suddenly and Andre seemed to be taken aback. He frowned, a deep crease forming between his bushy eyebrows, but there was also a sudden sparkle in his eyes.

"How far did you go, man?" He asked cautiously, and then came around to sit on the sofa next to me, putting his hand on my shoulder. "Look, nothing happened, brother. You're still in the same place you were 20 minutes ago! You're obviously still zoning back in... ". He smiled broadly and, in an excited tone added "Jesus! How far did you really go? It must have worked even better than we imagined!"

I'm not sure what came over me, but it was a sudden sense of rage, of overflowing emotions, a volcano spurting its lava up the tube before it exploded out the top. I grabbed Andre by the front of his shirt, standing as I did so, then pulled him off the couch and yanked him around and to the floor, until I was sitting on top of him, my face barely inches from his, spittle flying from my mouth.

"Stop screwing with me!" I growled, my nose only centimeters from his, so close I could feel the hairs of his beard against my chin and smell his breath. "I've got no idea what you are talking about! All I know is that five minutes ago, I was staring down a bullet in the bedroom of a woman I just met and I had that..." I glanced over at where the Eye now lay on the carpet near us, "... in my hand. Now I'm here, in your office, wearing different clothes and not bleeding from a knife wound anymore and I need to know what the hell is going on. Give me a straight answer or I swear I will crush your skull without thinking twice!"

Andre had gone pale. I could see fear laced with confusion in his eyes, something that I had never seen before. I was sure he had never seen me like this either. We were work colleagues and lunch buddies. Our wives shopped together. We shared some of the same student rosters. We would make dry jokes about the other staff members, and rate the hot female lecturers, and every second Tuesday night we would play poker with some of our other friends.

He just shook his head, his throat closed up by fear.

I blinked a couple of times, then realised what I was doing, and let him go. As I stood up and straightened my sleeves, I bent to pick the Eye up. It was just a simple cold metal ball again... nothing else. "What is this?" I asked, as calmly as I could manage. "And why are people trying to kill me to get it?"

Andre stood up and was tucking his shirt back in. He was still pale, but had gained some composure. He gingerly took the Eye from my hand and held it close to his chest, as a child would hold his pet cat. "I'm sorry. There are obviously side effects that we haven't measured. It's all new to me too! I need to note these things down..."

He hurried over to his desk, put the Eye on it, and grabbed a notepad and pen to start making notes. "The disorientation should only be temporary! What is the last thing you clearly remember?"

"I told you. A bedroom. Bullets. The Eye."

"The Eye?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I gestured at the silver ball on the desk. "That's what you call it, isn't it?"

He laughed. "No. I was actually going to call it the Kindling Photic-inducing Polaric Seizure model... or KPPS for short. The Eye? Where did that come from?"

"It doesn't matter right now." I said angrily.

"Okay. Fair enough, but I wasn't referring to your memories from today... I meant what's the last thing you actually remember – in real life."

"Real life?" I asked, "What do you think the past four days have been for me? A fairytale? A daydream?"

"Four days!" Andre exclaimed. "Are you serious man? You were gone for less than thirty minutes!"

He started making notes again and I stepped forward and calmly closed the notepad in his hands. "Which part are you not getting? The part where I told you I've just been in a room with bullets flying at my head, or the part where I told you I was stabbed and nearly bled to death? Do you think I made all this shit up?"

"Okay, I get it." Andre said calmly, "I get that you're still confused. If you give me a chance to explain then this will all make sense, I promise!" He gestured at the sofa.

I stared at him for a moment, then turned and sat down. This was all very confusing for me and I knew that I was probably overreacting with Andre at the moment, but I also knew that I wasn't going crazy! Nicole was real. Jackie was real. The hospital was real. Nothing from the past four days was anything remotely like any dream I could ever have had. The smell of the ocean, breeze on my face, pain from moving... those things were physical memories! How was it possible that I could be living those moments only twenty minutes ago, and then wake up in the study of my University colleague? If Andre wanted to convince me of anything other than, what I already knew had happened he was going to have a tough time doing so!

He flipped his notepad open again then sat on the black armchair opposite me.

"Okay, let's start with something simple." He said, "Do you remember lying on this couch about 30 minutes ago and preparing for our first test of the KPPS... or 'Eye' as you prefer to call it?"

"No".

"Okay... do you remember our discussion this morning about our plans to test the KPPS today?"

"No."

"Hmmm. So what exactly is your last memory from today?"

"Well, thirty minutes ago I was in a woman's house in Winterstrand. People were trying to kill me. I was accused of Jackie's murder and it was 2013." I said.

"Jesus." He whispered. "Jackie's murder? That's incredible. All of this – it's incredible! 2013? That's two years in the future! Do you realize the ramifications of ..."

I wasn't paying attention to what he was saying next. I was still trying to process what Andre had said about 2013 being two years in the future. That meant I had now somehow reversed through time and was suddenly back in 2011 – and, more importantly, it was most likely possible that both Jackie and Nicole would still be alive!

### Chapter 13

Fort Hare University was originally formed in 1916 in Alice, a small town in the Eastern Cape of South Africa. It was subsumed by the apartheid system in 1959 but became a part of the post-apartheid public higher education system in 1994. The East London campus of the University was built in 2004 and was home to some 4400 students and had faculties in Education, Law, Management & Commerce, Science & Agriculture and Social Sciences & Humanities, which all offered qualifications up to the doctoral level. I had been with the University since it had started in East London as a lecturer on Mathematics and was teaching students who were hoping to become Mathematics teachers, or needing Mathematics as a secondary subject for their doctorates in any of the Sciences. Andre North had joined the campus in 2006, and we had immediately hit it off, as we were both approximately the same age and had several common interests, including poker, which we played socially every Tuesday night along with two or three other lecturers at the University. He was a brilliant man and highly respected as both a Scientist and a Teacher.

As we now sat in his office at the University, on what I had since discovered was a Friday afternoon, the 2nd of September 2011 to be exact, it was obvious that despite my memory loss since 2010 that we were still very close friends and colleagues. It was after 3pm and most of the students were leaving campus for the weekend so the office was quiet and undisturbed. He had boiled us a pot of ground coffee as we chatted about my experiences in 2013 and it was a pleasure talking about it to someone who didn't think I was crazy. Although he was amazed at some of the events that I described, at no point did he ever seem dubious. Once I had retraced my story, from waking up on the floor at Jackie's house, to discovering her body. The subsequent knife wound and hospitalization. The police custody and even the dramatic attempt on my life. The escape and Nicole's assistance. Our search for the Eye, which resulted in her death. Then, on to my miraculous jump back to 2011. Thereafter, he did not once interrupt me or stop listening in awe, but constantly took notes. By the time I had finished my fantastic tale he was speechless.

Doodling on his notepad in the silence that followed, he looked over at the Eye where it had been placed on his desk. There was a glow about him, which was hard to explain, but I could sense that he was overwhelmed by something.

"That's my story." I said, breaking the silence and he put his pad and pen down on the chair next to him.

"Wow." He breathed. "That's incredible!"

"I've told you everything I know, so now it's your turn." I said. "You know what this is about I can see it in your eyes. I have so many blank spots in my mind and I need to understand what has happened to me."

He nodded. "Yes, yes. You're right. Your memory loss is quite unfortunate, but a note-able side effect to all of this. Going into the whole thing I must admit that I was completely unprepared for the extent to which it would work... and it has gone beyond anything I could have imagined."

"You're talking in circles again." I said. "Give it to me from the beginning."

"Of course, I apologize! It's just so amazing!" he swallowed the rest of his black coffee in one gulp then stood up quickly. "Follow me."

I followed him out of the office and into the faculty section of the University. Most of the offices were locked up and the halls were deathly quiet. We proceeded out of the front door and onto the campus grounds. It was late afternoon and the sun had started casting long shadows off everything. The campus grounds were beautiful. Large undulating grass patches, neat paved walkways, well-kept gardens and flowerbeds. As we made our way through the grounds and past several lecture halls and the student accommodation we soon arrived at the Science Building. It was a double story brick structure with large windows that were reflecting the afternoon sun. He unlocked the front door and led us inside. There was a particular smell in Science laboratories that you could not miss! The smell of ether and other chemicals, interlaced with the trace of Bunsen burner after-smell. It immediately brought back memories of my high school Science class days!

Andre led me through the lab and to his desk at the far end. He sat down and switched his laptop on, then opened a file on it. It was a word document. He tilted the monitor so that I could see more clearly.

"Six months ago I started working on a project which had been an idea of mine for years." He said. "I had done a ton of research on it, and I found something that really intrigued me and also inspired me to pursue my idea further. Do you know what déjà vu is?"

I nodded. "Yes, sort of. It's that sense you get at certain points in your life where you believe you have experienced a place or moment before. Like hearing words spoken by someone, and simultaneously seeing a bird fly past and thinking to yourself – I've seen this! It's linked to reincarnation some believe?"

"Almost correct" Andre replied, "But it has nothing to do with reincarnation, despite what many believe. Yes, those moments of clarity where you believe you've seen or heard something before is what they call déjà vu. It's a French word which, when directly translated, means 'already seen'. Therefore, it would be moments, places or people already seen before. There are thousands of theories around it of course, some involve reincarnation, as you said, and others such as Sigmund Freud believed it had something to do with regressed memories. There are those that believe it relates to delayed neurological responses, a sort of short circuit in the brain where it only recognizes what you have already seen a second before, a second later, resulting in the deception that you have already experienced that moment. All of these are only theories of course, and not one has been proven to be the actual cause of déjà vu."

"Okay." I said. " But what does this have to do with anything that's happened to me?"

"I'm getting there. It was this article from Swiss scientist Arthur Funkhouser which I found during my research into déjà vu that seemed to have the most in common with my own theory of what déjà vu actually was." He stepped back to let me view the article he had opened on the computer screen. I read it through briefly as Andre explained further. "You see, Arthur Funkhouser believed that precognitive dreams are the source of many déjà vu experiences, and based his theory on studies done by J.W. Dunne, an aeronautical engineer from the 1930's on students of Oxford University. He discovered that 12.7% of his subject's dreams had similarities with future events. This had been my own theory of déjà vu before I even read the article! What if the moments we experienced during déjà vu were not random? What if they seemed so familiar because we had already experienced them... in our minds... in the future?"

I couldn't help but chuckle at Andre's enthusiasm over this subject. As a Scientist, it was hard to believe that he would be taken in by something almost paranormal. It was in their nature as scientists to be specific about facts and reality, not fanciful imaginings of the mind.

"Are you serious?" I asked. "Dreams of the future? That sounds like an episode of Ripley's Believe It or Not. What are the scientific facts that prove that is even possible?"

"That's exactly why I was so convinced about this!" Andre exclaimed. "You see, I had to understand this theory in depth, and it led me on such an amazing journey! That's the thing about learning new stuff... you don't realize how much we don't know until you actually delve a little deeper! Imagine this – the mind is infinite! What are our thoughts but snapshots of what we have already seen or experienced before? Our bodies are limited and controlled by time due to the very nature of their makeup. Cells, tissue, and bone cannot be broken down into molecules without completely destroying its original form. Added to that, getting them back together again, in the same sequence? It's well... it's virtually impossible! This is just one of the reasons that time travel, as such, has been deemed impossible in this day and age. The human form just could not survive a trip through time without permanent damage or total destruction. But what about the mind?"

He stood up, walked over to a whiteboard, and wiped it clean with a rag. He grabbed a blue marker and started drawing a line horizontally across the board. "Imagine this is the span of your life from the moment of your birth to the moment of death. The distance between these two points are the days of our lives, and we experience all sorts of things in that time. Love, loss, grief, old age, broken bones, broken hearts, and sickness – you get the picture?"

I nodded and he continued.

"During this time only one thing is certain... your physical body will start off as brand new, will grow older, and at a certain point will start deteriorating, until such time as it can no longer sustain life. Of course, things may happen at any point during a lifetime where premature death occurs – accidents, murders etc. However, in theory, the process of young to old does not change. It is a constant. The mind, however, is infinite. As long as you are breathing and your brain is working, your mind is active and limitless. For the most part, it continues growing way past the point at which the body stops growing. Our minds and memories are also intangible. They do not consist of matter or molecules. They are immeasurable and untouchable – in essence they are free of the chains of time as they do not physically exist in the material world."

"That makes sense." I said.

"It does! Now, think of it like this. What if, when we are sleeping and our minds are free to roam as they please, they decide to roam into our future being – our future self? What if we can dream of things that have yet to happen because that is where our unchained mind has gone? What stops a perfectly healthy mind from inhabiting the same body, but a body that is two or three years older? Not for long, mind you, just for a few moments – long enough to store that memory of the future, and when our physical bodies eventually catch up to that random point in time the memory of that moment becomes our sense of déjà vu?"

"Possible." I said, "But difficult to prove. Besides, those moments are not a controlled action. We have no control over what we dream about. It's subconscious and completely random."

"It used to be random." Andre said. "That is, until you woke up this afternoon and proved that it wasn't."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that your 'vision' of 2013 was not just a vision or a bad dream. It was a planned trip to the body of your future self. A trip that you and I planned together! I will admit I was only expecting to take you a few days into the future, and only for a few short moments, but you have been so much further and for a much longer period of time than we could have imagined!"

Some part of what he was saying almost rang true, as if there was a memory just outside my reach that wanted back in, but just couldn't quite get there. Was any of this possible?

Andre came over and placed his hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently and beaming with pride.

"Congratulations, Lionel! You are now officially the world's first successful time traveler!"

### Chapter 14

When I was 13 years old, I discovered my love of movies. I grew up in a very poor household, my parents were divorced, and I was raised by my mother on a very small maintenance grant. One of the benefits of high school was making new friends, and I was fortunate enough to befriend a young man by the name of Martin Solomon. Martin came from an upper middle class family and introduced me to the technologies of those days, which I would not otherwise have had access to. This included VHS video machines and Commodore 64 computer games amongst others. I could recall spending hours over the weekends just watching movies with him and his family. Those were the days of Nightmare on Elm Street, Bloody Valentine, Lethal Weapon, and Dirty Dancing. They were the movies that shaped my life and my personality and probably made me who I am today. Out of all the hundreds of movies that we watched during those formative years, it was "Back to the Future" with Michael J. Fox that really caught and grabbed my imagination the most. The concept of time travel to the past, and in later movies to the future was a poor young boy's biggest fantasy. Leave behind the life you know now, head off to a different era or age and live a different life.

Right now, twenty-four years later, I was being told I had done exactly that. Not with a car or a fancy time machine hooked up to thousands of computers, but in my mind, while sleeping. It seemed incredible and impossible, yet I had been to 2013 and had spent four days there, experiencing every moment of my life in two years time as if I had been living it right now. Were these the side effects of my journey to the future? Was a loss of memory from the past year in exchange for 4 days of future travel a fair trade? What had I missed out on between the 16th September 2010 and today, the 2nd September 2011? 349 days were gone, missing forever, with no guarantee that I would ever get them back again!

We were returning to Andre's office in the Faculty building again, after he had shown me some of the research that he had done into déjà vu and the science behind it. I was still trying to process how it all worked, and he was still trying to explain as we went.

"A common agreement in the scientific community is that déjà vu was mostly found in people who were experiencing epileptic seizures." He was saying as we walked, "And this got me delving deeper into this theory. What I discovered was this: There was a case in the United Kingdom where four senior citizens were experiencing déjà vu permanently – to the point where they even refused to watch the news because they felt like they already knew what was going to be said! It was discovered that they had experienced a failure in the temporal lobe of the brain directly related to having minutely small repeated seizures, effectively leaving the portion of the brain that retains memories in the 'on' position. This was an exciting discovery and I immediately started working on my Kindling Photic-inducing Polaric Seizure model – um, Eye, as you prefer, in order to systematically replicate and control the rate of flow of electrical current to that part of the brain."

"Am I supposed to understand any of this?" I asked as we reached his office and entered. "It's all science gook to me."

He laughed. "I know, I know! I just get so carried away when talking about this. Look, basically, the Eye has been designed to supply small amounts of frequency-regulated voltage to the frontal lobe part of your brain that controls this on and off switch for our memories. In other words... it removes the boundaries!"

"How conservationist of you" I chuckled.

"Think of it like this. You see something, right? A red rose, for example. Your eyes send the message to your brain, and your brain allows that image to be stored. The next day, when you think back to that rose, your brain switches the storage compartment of that memory from the off position to the on position, allowing that memory to be focused on. Without controlling that switch, we would be constantly remembering every moment of our lives at the same instant! It would drive us nuts!"

"I get it." I replied, "So the Eye allows the memories we have not physically experienced yet, but that have already been stored by our roaming minds, to become our new reality once that switch is turned on? Do you know how fucking crazy that sounds?"

"It might sound crazy, but it worked! And you are living proof!" He exclaimed, flopping down onto the couch in his office and picking up the Eye from his desk. "This little marvel of engineering cost me half of my life's savings to build, but it is now completely worth every cent!"

"So let me see if I've got this right; turning this imaginary switch on is basically just the Eye causing small epileptic seizures which result in the mind experiencing enhanced déjà vu or future memory?"

"Exactly! Of course, it's slightly more complicated than that, involving frequency modulation, targeting patterns and so forth. Each different test patient might need a different frequency for it to work, I'm guessing. You were the first volunteer – because you were free, so I wouldn't know for sure." He laughed.

"What about the memory loss?" I asked.

"That's the one part that concerns me." He replied. "For this to be a completely operational unit worthy of publishing to the journals of science, it would need to have minimal side effects. Long-term memory loss is not something that we can ignore! I just have to delve a bit more into the causes of the memory loss. I would like to do some ECG tests on you, CT scan and some blood work and maybe a few others, if you don't mind?"

I shrugged. "I'm fine with that. There is just one small thing bothering me."

"What is it?"

"How confident can you be that what I experienced wasn't just an elaborate dream; a weak attempt by the mind to make up some wonderfully exotic tale? How do I know if those four days in 2013 are really going to happen?"

"It's a possibility that the mind may have exaggerated some aspects of your future memory, the way dreams sometime become fantastical adventures – such as leaping off a building and landing on your feet" Andre replied "The extent to which your memories are real or made up is something we still have to figure out. But from the detail you gave when describing what happened, I'm almost convinced you weren't having a dream as such, but that you were rather living in your future body and acting and reacting to situations and events as they were occurring."

"So Jackie will die." I said quietly, and Andre grimaced at the comment. " And so will Nicole?"

"If what you experienced was in fact a glimpse into the future, then yes... they will." He replied tenderly.

"Can we change it? This future?"

He shook his head. "No. That would not theoretically be possible. Remember that you are experiencing memories of something that has already happened in your timeline. That memory is stored and locked down. You were merely 'visiting' that memory for a short period."

"If that is true then this Viktor person is still going to come after the Eye. Do you know who he is? Any idea?"

"None." Andre said. "But it's obvious that I'm going to have to be careful with whom I share my project with! The potential for the KPPS to become an invaluable item is highly possible! If you think of what the applications for it could end up being! Imagine being able to go into the future and discovering a cure for cancer. You bring all that information back three, four or even ten years earlier. My God, just imagine the amount of lives that we could save!"

"And don't forget the money that could be made! The problem is that it makes this sort of technology dangerous in the wrong hands." I said forebodingly.

"You're right." He picked up his briefcase from the floor, opened it up, and popped the Eye inside. "This is why I need to lock this away in my safe at home. And you can't discuss what happened today with anyone!"

"Oh, trust me," I said, "I'm staying as far away from that thing as I possibly can right now! I need my old life back!"

"Shall we head home then?" he asked, picking up his coat from a coat rack near the door.

I laughed aloud as I followed him out the door. "I'm going to need some help there, man. Where the hell do I live again?"

Andre froze in the doorway then looked back at me in confusion. "Holy shit. I forgot about that! Let's get to your office and fetch your things."

My office was on the opposite end of the faculty building. As I entered, I was glad to see that it hadn't changed much in the past year. It was a lot smaller than Andre's office, but less cluttered. I was a person who liked things to be organized and this could be seen by my neat row of filing cabinets, well-organized bookshelf, and tidy desk.

"Check your drawer for your car keys and wallet" Andre said from the doorway as I entered. "You normally keep them there."

I approached the desk and opened the top drawer. I recognized the wallet immediately; it was a black leather Gucci, special edition, which Jackie had given me for my birthday in 2010. It was in a more worn state than what I remembered, but then again a whole year had passed since I'd last seen it! Next to the wallet in the top drawer was a small bunch of keys. I picked them up and looked through them. My office keys, filing cabinet keys, a house key that I did not recognize and then a car key, except it wasn't for my 1998 Volvo. This key had the familiar Honda badge on it.

"A Honda?" I asked with a frown. "Seriously?"

Andre laughed. "Wait till you see it."

I closed the drawer and was about to head for the door when my eye caught a glimpse of a photo frame that was standing to the left of my computer monitor. I picked it up and looked at the picture in the frame. It was a photo of Jackie and I at what looked to be some sort of Christmas party. She was wearing a red Santa's hat and was cheering the camera with a pink cocktail in her hand, while her other hand was around my neck as I kissed her cheek. God I loved those eyes! She looked so happy and it was hard to imagine that we were divorced right now.

"When was this taken?" I asked Andre.

"It was taken at the campus Christmas party, last year." He replied. "2010".

"Why did we get divorced?" I asked him. "It's so strange for me because my last memories of us were that we were happy! How did this all go so wrong?"

"I know buddy, I'm sorry for the both of you. It was a combination of things, I guess. From what you told me I guess you just changed towards each other. There were some fights, and some tension. It got really bad at one stage when you came to stay with Kim and me for a while. Kim doesn't talk about it much, you know, with her and Jackie still being friends and all. You and I don't really talk about it either. Too weird, I guess!"

I nodded. "I would change this if I could. Seeing Jackie dead like that in 2013 was the worst experience I ever had in my life, man! You have no idea! At that moment in time, at least for me, she was still the love of my life..."

Andre patted me on the back. "I know, but how about, for now, we just go get a beer and think about getting drunk?"

I nodded as I returned the frame to my desk. As we left the office and I closed the door I couldn't help but squeeze in one last glimpse at her smiling face frozen in a happier time and as yet, untouched by the cold hands of death.

### Chapter 15

The faculty car park was at the rear of the Faculty building, surrounded by rows of young saplings, which were casting their spidery shadows onto the grey tarmac. There were only a handful of cars left as most of the faculty staff had already left for the weekend. Andre stopped at his car, an older model white BMW 3 series, popped the trunk and placed his briefcase and coat inside. He then led me across the parking lot to where a midnight black Honda Civic Type R was parked. It was a stunningly beautiful two-door hatchback, with huge eighteen-inch mag rims and fine red trimming on the bodywork. I remember seeing one of them being advertised in a car magazine in 2010 when Jackie and I were still together and I still joked with her that I would love to own one someday.

"Wow." I breathed. "Is this... "

"Yes it is!" Andre smiled. "You bought this baby three months ago. I guess it was your way of dealing with the divorce and everything, know what I mean?"

"She's a beauty!" I exclaimed. "Unbelievable."

"Well, get acquainted and follow me when we leave. I will lead you to your townhouse."

I nodded, still awestruck by the beautiful machine that was apparently mine. I unlocked the doors from the remote control on the keyring, and the alarm beeped once. The interior was even better than I had imagined, and the car still had that new smell to it. Red and black leather trimmed seats complimented the black sloping dashboard and sporty black and red steering wheel. The gear lever sat on the middle consol, midway up towards the dashboard, and sitting in the bucket seats gave the impression of being strapped into the cockpit of a fighter plane. The instrument panel on the dashboard came to life as I inserted the key, bright red LED lights against the black backdrop were astonishingly effective. I turned the ignition on and the engine fired to life immediately, a throaty growl, which then settled into the purr of a wild tiger.

The word "panty-dropper" came to mind as I reversed the Honda out of its parking bay and pulled up to wait for Andre as he pulled out in front of me in the BMW and headed for the gate. It seemed like a ridiculous car for a forty-year-old to be driving, but at the same time, it was just too cool for me to worry about that! I was the man! I followed Andre as he headed out of the gate, past the security officers all sporting the black and orange uniform of Emsky Security, and towards East London. The campus was about twenty-three kilometers from the city and the road passed Mdantsane that was the second largest stand-alone township in the country after Soweto. It is known as the home of boxing, due to introducing boxing champions such as Happyboy Mgxaji, Welcome Ncita, and Vuyani Bungu to the world. As we approached the city itself, the road progressed through the industrial area of Wilsonia before joining with Buffalo Street, one of the main roads in East London.

It wasn't long before Andre was leading me into the suburb of Morningside just on the outskirts of East London. He pulled up at the gate of a small complex and waited as the security guard opened up for us - smiling and waving as he recognized my face. Inside the complex, he stopped outside a simple face brick duplex townhouse and gestured for me to pull into the driveway in front of the single garage. As I switched off the engine and climbed out, Andre reversed up behind the Honda and opened his window.

"Do you still want to grab that beer? Lorraine's is still open, you know."

I nodded. "Sure. Why not. I just want to get a change of clothes and then I'll meet you there?"

"Do you still remember where it is?" he asked, laughing as he did so.

"Screw you." I smiled. Lorraine's had been one of our regular hangouts on occasional Friday evenings. We were like part of the furniture there. "I'll catch you in fifteen minutes."

Andre laughed and then pulled off, leaving the complex. I approached the door to my townhouse, rummaging for the key on the keyring. As I entered the apartment, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was entering somebody else's house. Nothing inside seemed familiar as I walked through the living room and the kitchen, then headed up the stairs to the bedrooms. All the furniture was new, I saw none of the old furniture Jackie and I had shared when we were still married. Two of the bedrooms upstairs were empty bar a few unpacked brown boxes in the one, and the third and largest bedroom was sparsely furnished, with merely a bed and a nightstand. I opened the built in cupboards and was happy to recognize a few of the shirts that were hanging there. I pulled out an old favorite black short sleeve button up with the Captain Morgan logo on the back and the words "The Captain Was Here" on the front breast. I changed quickly and then headed for the bathroom to splash my face with water. In the medicine cabinet above the basin I found a can of Brut deodorant and quickly gave myself a once over with it. Feeling a bit more refreshed I grabbed my keys from where I had tossed them on the bed and headed back downstairs.

I opened the single door fridge in the kitchen and was surprised to see that it was fairly well stocked. I would have assumed that as a single man, I would be less inclined to maintain a full fridge and more inclined to eat take-aways, but there was all sorts of healthy, nutritional items packed on the shelves, from vegetables and salad ingredients, to sliced ham and pre-cooked skinless chicken breasts. There was a full two-liter orange juice in the door compartment and I took it out. I opened several cupboards before I found the one that contained the drinking glasses. After swallowing a full glass of the deliciously cold OJ, I rinsed the glass off in the sink, put the bottle back in the fridge, and then headed for the door. At the entrance, I noticed a small table with a plant on it, and next to the plant was a Nokia cellphone.

I picked up the phone and fiddled around for a few moments until I accidentally managed to unlock it. The background picture was a photo of Jackie. I was hardly surprised. It seemed that six months of divorce had done little to reduce my infatuation with her. As I scrolled through my contacts list, and there were quite a few names that I did not recognize. New friends I had made along the way since Jackie and I had divorced probably. When I scrolled passed Jackie's name, I paused. It wasn't her old phone number, so she had obviously changed it. The temptation to hit "dial" was almost overwhelming. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I felt certain that if I spoke to her everything would go back to normal! As my finger hovered over the green button, I could feel my heart beating at a hundred kilometers an hour!

Not yet!

It wasn't the right time. What could I possibly say to her now that wouldn't sound crazy? I slipped the phone into my pocket and left the townhouse, ensuring I locked the door behind me.

Lorraine's was a cozy place on Amalinda Main Rd, nestled in between several second hand car dealerships. I was lucky enough to find a parking near the front door. As I headed inside, the nostalgic aroma of cigarette smoke and stale beer greeted me excitedly as an old friend would, and I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the familiarity of it all. It was still early evening, and the bar had only a few patrons. A couple of them were playing pool over at one of the three pool tables, while three or four were sitting at the bar itself, watching the Formula 1 racing warm-ups on the flat screen television hanging from a wall behind the bar. I spotted Andre at a table near the back of the room and he had already ordered two beers.

"Glad to see you found your way." He joked as he pushed my beer across the table towards me. "Cheers!"

We touched glasses in salute and I took a long swallow of the icy cold golden drink. They were playing some Credence Clearwater Revival on the bar's sound system, and this only added to that feeling of familiarity that I felt earlier, when entering Lorraine's. I was tapping my feet to the music, really enjoying what seemed to be the first normal moment in my life in a long time!

"So what happens next?" I asked Andre as he pulled out his well-used tobacco pipe and began stuffing it with Rum and Maple tobacco.

"Well, I guess we start on Monday with those tests. I need your brain scanned to check what might be causing the memory loss, and to make sure that we haven't caused any permanent damage to the frontal lobe from using the KPPS. We cannot move forward with this thing unless we have covered all the bases. After that, I'm going to need to look at more funding. We are only scratching the tip of the iceberg right now. I need to run thousands of similar tests on other volunteers. In addition, I will need to get this thing patented! If someone steals my design then it will be worth nothing to me!"

"There is so much to think about and do!" I smiled. "But you were right earlier."

"About?" Andre asked as he puffed deeply on his pipe, blowing out a plume of sweet grey smoke.

"Well, about what the Eye could possibly mean to humanity. About all the good it could do! Cancer, as you said, but also AIDS, TB – any incurable disease currently! Think about wars that could be avoided!"

"Well, slow down" Andre smiled. "At this point we can only guess how far it could go, but it's still a double-edged sword! As much good as it could do, there is also the bad it could do. Do I need to remind you about Jackie and your friend Nicole?"

He was right. If the Eye actually was capable of allowing you glimpses into the future, and if my recent journey was anything to go by, then people that I loved, and how many countless others as well, were possibly going to die?

"What if you're wrong, though?" I asked. "What if it is possible to change the future? I mean, think about it, I sent myself a letter from 2012 to 2013. If it hadn't been for that letter, I wouldn't have gone back to Jackie's house to look for the Eye in the first place! I changed the way things were meant to happen!"

"Yes, I understand that but think about what was the result was?" Andre asked solemnly. "Nicole was killed. You were probably killed in the end as well for all we know! Besides, this mysterious Viktor guy... he gets the Eye anyway, so what did you actually change by sending yourself that letter? Did you change the course of events or did you just ensure that things were going to happen as they were supposed to in the first place, except with more collateral damage?" He put his beer down and leaned forward over the table. "Messing with time is a dangerous hobby, my friend. Until we know how much impact the Eye will have on our fragile human existence, we have to be careful!"

"I agree." I replied quietly. "But I've been there! I've seen my future. Do you realize what it is? Either it's a lifetime rotting in jail for murder, or it's a bullet to the head! That's MY future! Am I just going to sit back and wait for that to happen? Then what's the damn point?"

"I understand that." Andre said. "But you have to realize that until we've done all the tests and years of trial runs and have collected thousands of pages of data, we cannot even be 100% certain that what you saw was real! What if it WAS all just an elaborate dream?"

I nodded. "You're right. We need to get all the facts together first, and we need to understand exactly what the Eye does. I'm just glad I'm back in the real world, I guess, even if it is only for a few short years."

Andre chuckled. "You make it sound so morbid! Relax! Let's celebrate the fact that we are on to something that could end up being huge!"

I nodded in agreement, as he ordered another round. There was this hollow feeling in my gut that I just could not shake... and it wasn't going away no matter how much alcohol I was planning to pour on top of it!

### Chapter 16

The thing about a small city on a Friday night is that there are really only so many places that one can go to if you are looking for a night out. Within an hour of us being at Lorraine's the place had almost filled to capacity. All the seats at the bar were taken, and ordering a drink was becoming a hectic jostling for space! The music had also got progressively louder, and had moved from Credence and other 70's music to a more modern sound – the Black Eyed Peas, Pink, and Owl City were now dominating the speakers. The three pool tables had also attracted a lot of attention, and the younger crowd of twenty-something's were stocking up on (queuing up for?) their R2.00 coins to reserve their chance of taking on the current table champions. The regular bar flies were lined up at the ten-seater bar counter, where they could have easy access to the barman and also a good view of whatever sport was showing on the television. At the twelve or so tables scattered around the rest of the place, a mix of different ages were enjoying the music, chatting to their friends or partners and a couple were even dancing.

Andre and I were still camped out at our table in the far corner, and the empty beer bottles had started lining up across the table. I was amazed at how relaxed I felt! This was a scene of familiar comfort, so far away from the madness I had recently experienced, and the more beer I was consuming, the less real those events seemed to be. Andre was generally a quiet and composed person, but when he drank, he became braver and louder, sometimes to the point where he would get himself and whoever was with him into trouble from time to time. I smiled to myself as I thought back to the occasions where I had had to seriously convince an offended man, and sometimes woman, not to beat the living crap out of him, and this worked most of the time. I say most of the time because I had received my fair share of sucker punches in my attempts at protecting my drunken friend.

"Where's all the talent!" Andre shouted out at the bar, referring to the lack of eye candy in the bar at the moment. I just laughed as I was so used to his sudden bursts of randomness.

"I need to piss" I said, and stood up from the table. "Order another round, buddy! I will be right back."

I made my way through the pool table section of the bar and reached the men's toilets at the opposite end. There was a strong smell of potpourri deoblocks and fresh urine, which was still pleasant compared to what the smell would become near the end of the evening after too many drinks and guys who couldn't hold it down. I reached the urinal just as the door at one of the toilet cubicles opened up and a very large tattooed and unshaven man exited. He gave me a once over, grunted something and then left the bathroom. I smiled, as I knew it wouldn't be long before a fight probably broke out in the pub – this was a usual occurrence on a Friday night – and I wouldn't want to be the person on the receiving end of that guy's fists.

I finished my job at the urinal and bent over the basin to wash my hands and face. The cellphone I had picked up earlier at my townhouse slipped out of my shirt pocket and landed on the edge of the basin. I quickly picked it up and looked at the screen. It was still on the phonebook page, and Jackie's name was still highlighted, ready to dial. I don't know what I was thinking exactly, it may have been the false bravado brought about by the beers, but I pressed the green button and the call went through. It was only a few seconds before I heard the ringing on the other end of the line.

"Hello."

When she answered, my heart skipped a beat. Her voice was an instant throat hold, so familiar, so recognizable.

"Hi." I said, and my voice cracked from the tension.

There was a long period of silence at the other end, before she spoke. "How did you get this number?"

"I have no idea." I said, and I was telling the truth. "How have you been, Jax?"

Jax was my nickname for her since before we even married.

"God, Lionel! We've been through this before!" I could hear she was angry. "You have to stop calling me! I changed my number so that you wouldn't be able to! Did you get it from Kim? I swear to God I will..."

"No." I interrupted. "It wasn't Kim. Listen, it's not important where I got your number from. I thought we could talk this thing out."

She laughed. "This thing? Talk it out? It's been six months for Christ's sakes ... and six months before that! I've moved on with my life, Lionel. I've told you this before."

Those words were like ice. Like the brain-freeze you get from eating ice cream too fast.

"I understand that," I said, "but there are things that I need to tell you... to explain to you. It's so complicated, and this ... us... it just makes no sense to me!"

"Are you drunk?" she asked. She had always had a sixth sense about knowing when I was drinking, and I was comforted to know that she still did after all this time. "You are, aren't you? For Christ sakes, Lionel! It's bad enough that I don't want to speak to you when you're sober!"

"Yes. I'll admit I had a few beers, but that's not why I'm phoning you – in a drunken stupor. I really think we need to talk about what happened and why! There are things that are going to happen in the future and I just want you to..."

"Stop it!" She yelled, surprising me, and stopping me in my tracks. "Don't come with that bullshit again! I put up with your obsessive ranting and raving about the future and what you imagined was going to happen for too damn long! Why do you think we got divorced in the first place! It was all you spoke about! It consumed you, and it consumed us! I'm not going to listen to you slide down that path again, and you're not dragging me with you again either! I'm over it. You need to move on! Don't call me on this number again! In fact, don't call me ever again!"

There was an audible click as she ended the call. For a moment, I was too stunned to even take the phone away from my ear, and I just stood there for several seconds like an idiot listening to the long beeping of a dead line. The realization came over me that there could be more to my memory loss than I originally thought! Had I known about what would happen in 2013 for a while already? How was that even possible? Had my obsession begun in 2010 after the last time I remember being with Jackie and being happy and normal? Was this "fear" of the future the reason we got divorced! Jesus Christ! What was I doing to my life, to those I loved? I was suddenly furious – with myself, with Andre, with this entire project of his! The Eye had ruined my life! It had destroyed my marriage, killed my wife and my new friend, Nicole! It had probably killed Andre as well! I was right when I wrote that letter to myself... and I should have listened! The Eye needed to be destroyed! It was the only way to end all of this!

I stormed out of the toilet and brushed past several pool players. As I reached the table where Andre was sitting I saw he was talking to a woman who had her back to me. I leaned in next to him and said, "We have to leave. Now."

"No! We can't!" he said loudly, "Not until I've introduced you to my new friend!"

"I'm serious." I said; ignoring the woman he was referring to. "There is something we need to do."

"Hi." The woman said. There was something about her voice that immediately caught my attention. I turned my head to look at her and the second I saw her face I felt the blood rushing from my head.

"Nicole!" I gasped.

She seemed quite taken aback, then smiled, although a small crease had formed between her eyebrows. "How did you know my name?"

It was literally only this morning that I had seen her die. The memory of the bullet entering her forehead was as clear as daylight. My mind replayed the few short hours we had shared together – from the hospital pick up, to the house in Winterstrand, to her death at Jackie's place. Seeing her face again, alive and healthy and glowing ... it had taken my breath away.

"Your name is Nicole?" Andre laughed out loud. "Are you serious?" He looked at me in disbelief, raising his eyebrows.

I composed myself, stood up straight and presented my outstretched hand. "Call it an educated guess? You look like someone who might be a Nicole."

She took my hand, and the warm touch of her skin felt amazing! I could almost feel her pulse where my fingers were touching her wrist. So alive!

"Lucky guess, then!" she smiled. "Well, I'm no good at guessing games, so you're just going to have to tell me your name."

I nodded; still shaking her hand, not wanting to let it go for fear that the life in it would disappear. "Lionel. Lionel Hesse."

"Nice to meet you, Lionel" she said and gently squeezed, then pulled her hand away. She gestured at the empty bottles of beer. "What are we celebrating?"

"Old time and new friends" I replied quickly, and her eyes seemed to sparkle at the comment.

"Okay then!" She raised her glass of beer into the air and made a toast. "Best while you have it, use your breath! There is no drinking after death!"

Her tone was jolly and light, but the words of her toast sent a chill down my spine that almost had me physically shivering with foreboding. It was such a shock that we should find each other here, today, after what had just happened to us this afternoon, and it was hard not to be amazed at the coincidence of it all. Just seeing her moving and talking and breathing again had all thoughts of destroying the Eye temporarily wiped from my mind, and the way she was looking at me right now, as if she also somehow sensed in her subconscious that this was not our first meeting, and that somewhere in time we had already crossed paths. It just made me realize how undeniably interweaved we all were through both time and space, physically and mentally, and how cruel life could be at any moment, without warning.

Taking.

Giving back.

### Chapter 17

As the night wore on and the beers kept flowing, it wasn't long before they were getting the better of Andre. As Nicole and I chatted late into the night about things in general, Andre was getting louder and louder. I was avoiding any discussion at all around the Eye, or the future, or time travel, as I knew Nicole would have no knowledge of her involvement in any of the future events of which I was so acutely aware. Andre, on the other hand, had now started mumbling about his "project" and the "ramifications" and I could sense that Nicole was starting to get curious. As a distraction, I diverted the conversation to what she was doing with her life, and where she had come from. Andre had hit a quiet spell and was now resting his head on the table, giving us a chance to speak without incoherent interruptions.

I discovered she was born and raised in Grahamstown. Her father was an electrician, self-employed, and her mother was a pharmacist. She attended the prestigious Victoria Girls School, and from Matric went straight to Rhodes University to study journalism. "I loved the news!" she said, "And photography! My initial plan was to finish my degree, apply for a job with National Geographic, and just travel the world reporting on poverty and other issues..."

"Initial plan?" I asked, "What changed?"

"My mother fell ill and passed away while I was still in my 2nd year at Rhodes. My father had made the mistake of not investing in medical aid, and when my mother was admitted to hospital and treated for cancer, he insisted on a private hospital. He sold his business, used all of his savings as well, to pay for the treatments. The money all ran out eventually, and it wasn't long after that when she died. He never forgave himself, even though in reality there was really never going to be anything he could have done to save her."

"That's terrible!" I said, gently touching her arm. "So that's the reason you changed your plans?"

"No. My mother would have wanted me to finish studying. She was like that. My father couldn't handle her death, and he became dependant on me. I had to choose – study or work." She shrugged. "It was an easy decision."

"I would probably have done the same." I said.

"So I got a job at the Grocott Mail, which was Grahamstown's local newspaper. I wasn't qualified yet, so I had to start at the bottom, of course. My father passed on two years later, but by then I was over the whole studying thing. I decided to move to East London when an opportunity opened up for an apprenticeship at a high profile photography studio. I've been in East London ever since, but now I do my own thing mostly. You know, family portraits, weddings, a bit of freelance photography for nature magazines."

"That's great!" I said. "At least you get to do what you love, even if it never worked out exactly as you planned."

"I am very lucky!" she smiled, and I nodded in agreement.

"Luck has nothing to do with anything!" Andre exclaimed suddenly, lifting his head from the table, his words slurring ever so slightly. "It's destiny! No control over that! Ha-ha!"

I chuckled and smiled at Nicole, then checked my wristwatch. "I think it's time to get this hooligan home!"

"He's not driving, is he?" she asked, a concerned look on her face.

"No. I'll drive him." I suddenly realised I also had my own car to drive home. "What about you? Do you have a car?"

"No." she replied. "Well, I mean I do have a car, just not here. One of my friends dropped me off and was supposed to meet me later." She looked around. "Guess she got sidetracked!"

"Would you mind terribly following me in my car to drop Andre off? I'll bring you back again, or take you home." I couldn't help blushing as the words left my mouth.

She laughed. "Sure, Lionel, you can take me home."

We then began the precarious task of getting Andre out of his seat, across the pub and then out to his BMW. He wasn't a very big man, but he also wasn't very co-operative, which added about twenty kilograms to his total mass and Nicole and I had each propped ourselves under one of arms! By the time we managed to reach the car we were both exhausted! I leaned my old friend up against the BMW as I dug around in his pockets for the keys. When I found them, I unlocked the passenger door and coaxed him into it. He started chuckling and mumbling to himself. I heard the word "Kim" and "trouble" several times. As I closed the door, I turned to Nicole.

"That one's mine." I gestured at the Honda, handing her my keys at the same time. "He lives in Vincent. Follow me?"

She nodded and smiled. "Wow. Nice ride."

"Thank you." I replied. "I just got her today... sort of."

Once I was in the driver's seat of the BMW, I had to move Andre's sleeping body over towards the passenger side of the car, as he had slumped across towards me. His head banged the window and he woke up temporarily.

"The Eye..." he said, his words slurring badly. "Have to lock it up..."

"Relax, buddy." I replied. "We'll sort it out when we get there."

As we pulled away from the curb, I kept an eye on Nicole in the rearview mirror as she followed me in the Honda. From Amalinda the double-lane road headed towards the city centre, passing Frere Hospital on the left. The hospital was a Provincial government funded institution, established around 1881. It was also used as a tertiary teaching hospital. It spanned the length of about three rugby fields, a five-story building in need of some paint and maintenance. There was a set of traffic lights at a T-junction just after the hospital, where going left would take you to the upper suburbs of Vincent and Selborne, and going right would lead you straight into the heart of the city and the lower class suburbs of Southernwood and North End. As we turned left, I noticed the time on the dashboard of the BMW indicated that it was already way after midnight! Where had the hours gone?

Andre lived in a narrow street in Vincent. I had probably been to his house twenty times before. Jackie and I had been good friends with Kim, Andre's wife, and many lazy Sunday afternoons were spent braai-ing in their back yard next to the swimming pool. Seeing the house again sent a stab of guilt through me, as I caught a glimpse of Nicole as she parked behind me. This house had been a place I had shared with Jackie. A place where we made the memories many married couples make together. Together memories. Having another woman here with me almost seemed wrong, even though in reality Jackie and I had been divorced for six months already; in my mind, it still felt as if it had only happened recently. As I switched off the car, Andre opened his door suddenly, and threw up violently on the curb.

Great, I thought. Kim was going to be really impressed with me bringing her drunken husband home after midnight, smelling like puke!

I went around to the other side, helping Andre stand up from where he was bent over in the passenger seat, trying to avoid the yellowy pool of beer and Friday lunch at his feet. He surprised me by managing to stand on his own once he was up.

"I've got it..." he sighed.

"Are you sure?" I asked as I took him by the arm and led him towards his front gate.

He nodded. As we reached the walkway to the house, he stopped and turned towards me.

"Take the Eye with you." He said in a semi-slur. "I don't think I'll be able to get it into the safe tonight. Bring it by tomorrow." He paused to think about that statement, then added "Maybe Sunday rather."

I nodded, smiling. "Okay."

I left him supporting himself on the gatepost and quickly unlocked the boot of the BMW, removed his briefcase and then the Eye from it. Touching it again left a sense of trepidation that was hard to shake. I slipped it into my pocket and then popped the briefcase back in the boot. As I locked the car and handed the keys back to Andre, he took my hand firmly in his.

"Look after it, buddy!" he said, a serious expression on his face that was ironically almost comical. He squeezed my hand once then headed up the walkway to the front door. As he approached, the porch light came on and the door opened a crack. I caught a quick glimpse of Kim as she led Andre through the door. There were no friendly greetings or hugs... none were expected anyway. I sighed and headed for the Honda.

The driver's window rolled down as I approached, and Nicole shook her head, smiling.

"Uh-uh... shotgun for you!"

I laughed and got in at the passenger side. "Hmmm, you've taken over already, I see!"

"You don't give a girl the keys to such an awesome car and then expect her to be a passenger do you? A car like this needs a driver with finesse and style!"

I grunted. "Okay then. So where is she? Are we picking her up on the way?"

A punch on the arm quickly ended the path that conversation was headed, and then we were off.

"So where to now?" she asked, as she handled the car like an expert through the quiet early morning streets. There was no sense of fear as she drove, and I could tell that she had either had advanced driving lessons, or had been driving for a very long time. The throaty roar of the Honda as it sped through the gears, leaned into corners, and growled up the hills was akin to a purring cat thanking its owner for the extra loving attention.

"I live in Morningside" I replied.

"That's on the other side of town." She smiled. "I live five minutes from here. Why don't you drop me off and have a cup of coffee first?"

"Sounds good." I said.

It turned out her house was only two minutes away, and before I knew it, we were pulling into a parking spot in her apartment complex in Berea. It was a small cluster of apartments, a double story building with about twelve flats. We made our way up the narrow flight of stairs to the second floor and stopped at her door as she fumbled in her handbag for her keys. Standing so close to her I couldn't help but breathe in the sweet perfume she was wearing. She was incredibly sexy, shapely legs that teased with glimpses of well-formed calves from under her skirt, a small waist, and her naked tanned shoulders that seemed to call out to me to touch their silky softness. She turned to face me and our eyes met and locked as my face seemed to burn from the embarrassment of being caught looking. It seemed impossible for me to tear my gaze away from that blue heaven for even an instant and before I knew it, like magnets, we were simultaneously leaning into each other and our lips locked for a long moment, warm, wet, and furiously eager. Our bodies pressed against each other, an urgency in every touch that seemed to last forever and drown out the rest of the world around us.

We pulled apart after what seemed an eternity, both of us breathing heavily, my heart racing as it had never raced before, the sweet taste of her lips still on mine.

"I lied. I don't have any coffee." She said huskily.

"That's okay." I replied then lied as well. "I'm allergic to caffeine."

### Chapter 18

We burst through into Nicole's apartment the moment she managed to get the door unlocked, and were spinning and knocking things over as we barreled through the entrance hall and collided with the sofa, collapsing onto it. Our hands were everywhere, exploring and grabbing frantically as our tongues wrestled passionately. I had my hand under her blouse, her breast so soft and warm to the touch, her nipple hard and erect and pressing into my palm. She had started unbuckling my belt, and her hands were inside my pants within seconds, grabbing me with just enough force not to be painful, yet stroking with just the right amount of sensual pressure.

My heart was racing like a freight train, and I could feel her heart as it beat in tempo with mine as we pressed and squeezed against each other. I had never wanted anyone so bad in my life, and I was slowly losing grip on reality as our bodies were overruling our minds, guiding and leading us closer and closer to carnal passion. She was moaning as my fingers traced her erect nipples under her brassiere, and we refused to stop kissing for an instant, every breath and touch and noise just fuelling our desire to share each other's mouths. She pushed upwards, forcing me to turn over and then she was on top of me, her pelvis pressing against mine, and her mouth now on my neck – wet and warm as her tongue traced a line down towards the V in my shirt.

I closed my eyes as she ripped the buttons on the shirt, sending them flying in all directions, and continued her downward oral exploration of my chest and then stomach. She reached the edge of my pants, just below my belly button, and my breath froze in my throat, as her warm lips gently kissed the fine hairs that lead the way downwards. I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

You have to stop!

Jesus Christ! I didn't want to hear that inner voice right now, I didn't want to have to think about anything except this beautiful woman, and her amazing body and her warm lips and soft breasts!

It will change everything!

It was like an ice-cold slap in my face. I breathed out in a gush of air, sweat now forming on my forehead, Nicole still soaking my stomach in butterfly kisses.

God that felt good!

It will change EVERYTHING!

I placed my hands under her chin, lifting her face to look at mine. Her piercingly blue eyes, subtly framed by the slightest hint of eye shadow and eyeliner, looked back at me - sparkling and dancing in the mild yellow light cast by the lampshades in her lounge.

"Wait..." I said, and I couldn't believe the words were coming out of my own mouth. "I can't..."

I saw a crease form in the center of her forehead, and for a moment the sparkle in her eyes seemed to dim slightly. She looked confused...

"I'm sorry." I said, moving myself backwards to sit up straight on the couch. "I just can't right now."

She sat back on her legs, knees on the floor. "Okay..." she said hesitatingly, and then her frown creased further... "Are you married?" She placed her hand over her face. "Oh God! You ARE, aren't you?"

"Whoa..." I said soothingly, chuckling "Relax. I'm not. I promise."

"This always happens to me!" she ranted, and I had to lean forward and grab her face with both hands and force her to look into my eyes.

"I'm not married." I said quietly. "It's hard to explain, but I need you to trust me. I want you so badly. I swear I do! But I need for us to wait."

She blinked her eyes a few times, and then I felt her relax in my hands. "Oh. Okay."

I took her by the hand and coaxed her to sit on the couch next to me. She leant up against me, her head resting on my chest, her hand tracing a pattern on it underneath my torn shirt.

"This is not something I do... you know." She said. "I mean, bringing guys home after the first time we meet..."

I laughed softly. "I wasn't implying that you do. It's not something I do either, if it makes you feel any better. This... you... it's as if I couldn't resist you. If you know what I mean?"

"I do." She said, sighing deeply. "I've never been so attracted to anyone in my whole life! Where the hell did that come from?"

I rubbed her shoulder as she snuggled in closer to me. I wanted to explain this to her so badly! I needed her to know how important she was going to be to my future-self, and how I couldn't afford to screw with the way things were supposed to happen in a few years time. I had a feeling that we were not even supposed to meet tonight. How fragile the ribbons of time now seemed, as chance encounters could lead to so many different future paths and have so many unknown variables! A completely random action today could have such far reaching and life changing affects on tomorrow, yet on a daily basis, we face these mini decisions in life, and how do we even know if we are making the right choices! Perhaps that was an argument for not needing to know what tomorrow brings, as it was being unaware of the possible consequences of small actions, which kept us sane!

"Will you just promise me one thing?" she asked suddenly.

"Sure."

"I don't mind if you can't tell me some things, but will you swear you will never lie to me?"

It was such an interesting statement that for a moment I could not respond. I smiled inwardly and squeezed her shoulder. "I swear."

"So if I ask you a few questions, you will answer according to that?"

"Definitely!"

"Okay." She said, and sat up to look me in the eyes. "So you're sure you're not married?"

"Divorced. Six months."

"You're not gay?"

"No." I laughed. "Seriously?"

"I had to know!" she replied. "Are you involved in something illegal; drugs, for example?"

"No. I'm a straight up geek."

"Okay. One more... is that a cricket ball pressing into my thigh or are you still just happy to see me?"

I looked down at my leg and the bulge in my pocket. I chuckled as I stuck my hand in and pulled the Eye out then held it up in my palm for her to see. Its shiny mirror surface stared back at us, inverted reflections of ourselves looking outwards.

"What is this?" she asked.

I had promised not to lie. "I can't answer that right now. I really want to tell you, but it could jeopardize things for me... for us."

"Is it dangerous?" She asked, physically moving a few inches back from it.

"No." I replied. "Well, at least, not in the usual sense of the word."

"Okay..." she relaxed a little. "So even though you are extremely attracted to me, as you should be, you can't sleep with me because of this little silver ball. Does that about sum it up?"

I laughed loudly. "Yes. You've got it."

"Fine." She said. "I can live with that." Then she added, "At least you're not gay!"

I smiled. "At least there's that, then."

I lay my head back on the couch and Nicole snuggled even closer into my side. Her body against mine felt so good, so right, and so meant to be. Jackie was still in the back of my mind, which added weirdness to the emotions I was feeling right now, and it was only natural that she would be. Yes, physically we had been divorced for six months already, but mentally she was still my first love and that was not going to change overnight! Simultaneously, my body had been deprived of female contact for a longer time than it was used to, and holding Nicole now was satisfying a portion of me that had been crying out for relief. It didn't take long for us both to fall asleep in each other's arms.

### ***

I awoke with a sudden jerk a few hours later, my heart pounding hard in my chest. For a moment, I was disoriented, but as I surveyed the small lounge and cheap furniture of my location, it all soon came back to me. I had been dreaming. I was running from something, but the faster I ran the slower I seemed to move, and whatever had been chasing me was gaining, gaining! A giant mass of darkness had been rolling after me through my subconscious mind, threatening to overrun me at any moment.

Nicole was still tucked in under my arm where we had lay in position on the couch. She was breathing quietly, her small breaths brushing warmly against my cheek as they passed. I slid my arm out from under her, grimacing as I did so from the stiffness of not moving it for a while, and sat up straight. I was extremely thirsty – the after effect of too many beers, no doubt – and stood up to find a drink of water or anything cold. I opened her small refrigerator and almost clapped when I saw an open bottle of ice cold Sprite. There was an empty glass in the dish rack on the sink and I used it to pour myself a glass of the clear drink. I swallowed it in four long gulps, the fizzy coldness of it crashing into my mouth and throat and quenching the terrible thirst.

As I headed back to the couch I spotted the silver reflection of the Eye on the couch above Nicole's sleeping head. I sat down and picked it up, staring at the round mirror innocence of it. Andre had nearly convinced me of the almost supernatural abilities that had been developed in this small object. Although I barely understood most of what he had explained, I got the gist of it in that it triggered programmed frequencies of electrical current, which targeted a certain portion of the brain, allowing the mind to leave the body in the current time and enter the body of a future time. I wasn't going to dispute that, as I had been through some crazy shit that could only be attributed to the device in my hand actually working as explained.

The confusion around the extent to which it worked was only now a question that was begging for answers in my mind. I had used the Eye for the first time this morning, and I had woken up in 2013. Jackie was dead and a while later Nicole would be dead too. According to Andre that could not be changed, although he may have said it was "unlikely". Unlikely is a huge distance away from "definitely".

What if...?

That damned voice again. That conscience or subconscious or whatever the fuck it was... asking me to doubt.

What if?

What if it could be changed? What if I could end this all before Jackie died? I had no aspirations of saving my marriage, that was past and done and I had to live with that now, but could I save her life? Could I give her the rest of her years to live out, as she should have? Then there's Nicole. Did the spark of energy and life that she represented in this world deserve to be extinguished before it had even taken flame? Worse still – it was my fault that she would die in the first place! I got her involved in this whole thing and I took her with me to Jackie's house. Her death is on my hands and I did not need to wait for the time to come in 2013 for that to be applicable right now as she lay on the couch next to me! She would die.

Unless...

I traced the back of my hand across her cheek as she slept, and she stirred ever so slightly, biting her bottom lip gently.

God she was beautiful!

The Eye stared back at me from the palm of my hand and in its reflective surface I could see the shadow of a man, a blurred outline of who I really was... but could it reflect who I was inside? Could it define me as a person – now and future? I traced my thumb and middle finger over the barely noticeable indentations at the sides of the Eye and they hovered there for a moment. If I pressed these two buttons, where would I go? Would I be back in Nicole's place facing a bullet? Would pressing them mean my end? Would it be a full circle trip back to the day of my death? Maybe, but in the back of my mind, those two words were still grinding at my skull...

What if...?

There was a hanging clock on the wall opposite where I sat, and the ticking second hand seemed unnaturally loud and out of place. The time was 04h55. I looked across at Nicole one more time, and then pressed the buttons on the Eye. It was time to find out...

Click!

That familiar jolt of electricity as my fingers pressed into the indentations on the Eye's surface, flowing through my fingers, then arm and then into the base of my skull. The familiar flashes of multi-colored lights and that blinding headache stabbing into my brain again, and then the slow motion effects... I could focus intently on tiny little dust particles as they hung in the air of Nicole's apartment, suspended like a thousand tiny stars. The second hand of the clock was vibrating and then slamming into the next position, vibrating again before slamming over... each second taking approximately five seconds to happen! There was an additional surge of electricity and then that familiar smell of watermelons!

Suddenly everything stopped again. Just the darkness. That tiny pinpoint of light, which approached me slowly... getting closer and larger until it, rolled itself into the blue shape that had haunted me once before...

The Eye, blinking again

### Chapter 19

Coming out of the darkness was different this time. There was no gradual fading in of sound and vision, no gentle awakening or slow reality. This time it just slammed into me at force, a cascade of colors, lights, sounds, and movement that caught me off guard just as I was settling into the peaceful dark that belonged to the Eye. I was moving... not just moving, I was running! My footsteps loud on the ground, air rushing past me as I moved, and my clothes straining against my body as my arms were swinging wildly back and forth. The calm early morning peacefulness of Nicole's apartment had become an alleyway between two buildings. The smell of rotting food and rat urine poured into my nose and I was breathing it in deep as I ran. There was someone running next to me, and I could hear their own footsteps in unison with mine. Their own breathless gasps alongside my own.

I glanced over and saw that it was Andre North. He glanced at me as well, nodding as he ran. I had the Eye in my right hand, the familiar weight of it firmly gripped in my fingers. Andre was carrying his briefcase under his left arm, his shirt hanging out of his pants, a necktie flapping over his shoulder. I looked down and saw that I was wearing my favorite black Grasshoppers that I reserved for work, a pair of black cargo pants and a button up lime green shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to my elbows.

"This way!" Andre shouted as we reached the end of the alleyway, and as I followed him, he turned left into a crowded street filled with pedestrians. I recognized the street as Oxford Street, the city's main road that ran through the Central Business District. We had entered it at a point near the City Hall, between a cell phone store and a furniture chain store. We ran haphazardly through the stream of pedestrians who were doing their shopping. It was late afternoon, I could tell by the glare of the afternoon sun overhead and behind us, casting long shadows ahead of us as we dodged and barreled our way through the maze of people on the sidewalk. We must have been a strange sight, two well-dressed white men hurtling down Oxford Street between a mass of mostly African shoppers!

As we reached an intersecting road, Andre forked right suddenly into the four-lane traffic that was almost bumper-to-bumper. I followed him as we crossed Oxford Street, narrowly avoiding the slow moving cars and earning honked horns from a few startled drivers. On the other side of the road was a Wimpy restaurant nestled on the corner next to one of the major banks. Andre rushed into the restaurant and I was close on his heels. There were a few surprised grunts from the patrons closest to the door as we burst through, and the sound of a fork or knife dropping to the floor. I noticed the Manager of the store quickly exit from behind the counter and approach us. I was expecting Andre to stop and explain at the very least, but to my surprise, he simply raised his arm and punched the overweight man square in the face, sending him sprawling backwards into a table of patrons, food trays, and cutlery flying everywhere.

There was a door leading through to the kitchen and I followed Andre through it while behind me shouts and commotion was taking place as the surprised staff attended to their injured Manager. The kitchen was hot and stuffy as we ran through it, exiting out a door at the back, which was marked as an Emergency Exit. On the other side of the door, we were in a narrow alleyway again, but this time it ran into a dead end. There were several discarded cardboard boxes, crates and a few broken pallets stacked precariously in one corner. Andre made a beeline directly for the pallets. He vaulted up onto them, grabbing the edge of the 6ft high wall at the end of the alleyway, and then disappeared over it.

I was amazed at his agility, as I had never seen him in an active task before, and I discovered that climbing the unstable tower of pallets was a lot more difficult than he had made it look. I did manage to get to the top though, cutting myself on a rusted nail on the way up, and then quickly dived over the wall in pursuit. There was a heap of black trash bags piled on the other side of the wall and I made an awkward, yet safe and smelly landing. Andre was waiting for me at the end of a short passageway between the back of the restaurant and the bank next door. He was peering out from the corner and into the side street that branched off Oxford Street. I stopped behind him, leaning on the wall to catch my breath.

"What the hell!" I exclaimed. " What's happening?"

He looked at me quizzically for a moment, and then when he realised that I was serious, a glimmer of understanding appeared on his face.

"You used the Eye again, didn't you?" There was an underlying tone of anger in his voice.

I nodded. "What year is it?"

"2011." He replied.

I frowned. 2011? I had used the Eye in 2011 so how far had I actually gone? I had been hoping to return to 2013 at the least so that I could save Jackie and Nicole's lives! "What month?"

"December." He said then held up his hand before I could say anything further. He pointed out into the crowded street and I followed the direction of his gaze. A black SUV was pulling up into a parking space across Oxford Street, diagonally from where we were hidden in the alleyway. "It's them."

The rear doors of the SUV opened up, and two burly men got out, wearing black military pants and black T-shirts, their muscular arms protruding from the sleeves. I could see pistols holstered on their belts and they were both wearing Oakley style sunglasses.

"Who are they?" I asked.

"Viktor's men." Andre replied. "And if we don't get out of here before they see us we are both dead!"

"What do they want?"

Andre tapped the briefcase still stuck into his armpit. "They want my research. And that..." he gestured at the Eye I was holding in my hand.

"I don't understand." I said, "How did they find out about it?"

"I'll explain later." He said and then indicated for me to follow him out into the street. We joined the flow of pedestrians along the pavement and headed away from the SUV up the side street. "Don't look back."

It took all my willpower not to turn around and see if we had been spotted by the SUV thugs, and as we walked, I waited anxiously for a shout or a warning, or even worse, a bullet to come flying past my head. Nothing happened though and we soon reached the end of the street and turned left out of sight of the SUV. We found ourselves in Cambridge Street, parallel to Oxford. A much quieter part of town where there were fewer shops and more office premises. Andre led the way for about fifty meters before ducking into a doorway. As I followed, I caught the name on the window: Royal Hotel.

The pub was busy. It was packed full of men, most of whom were focused intently on the two televisions hooked up in the corners of the room that were broadcasting a horse race. There was a caged window at one end of the pub, with the words TAB spelled out on top of it. This was a local horse-racing pundit's hangout, and the few with big dreams of hitting a Pick 6 or Jackpot win rubbed shoulders with those who were just degenerate gamblers needing an excuse to get drunk. The race on the television was nearing its end and the crescendo of noise in the room increased as the horses approached the finish line. There were shouts of "Go, baby, go!" and angry cries of "Come on, you donkey!" as the race ended, and then once the horses had crossed the line a simultaneous combination of moans and a few small cheers as the lucky few discovered they had picked a winner.

We made our way to an empty table close to the rear exit, and Andre pushed aside the TAB betting slips that were scattered across it, placing his briefcase to his right between himself and the wall. We were both drenched in sweat and completely exhausted.

"Beer?" Andre asked, gesturing at the bar. I nodded and he stood up to place our order. He returned with two tall pints of clear gold liquid and I swallowed mine with fervor, the delicious barley flavour pouring down my throat and satisfying my deep thirst.

"Mmmm." I mumbled. "Delicious!"

Andre took a few small sips of his own beer, then put his glass down and stared earnestly at me across the table.

"Do you realize the shit-storm you've put us in?" he asked, a deep crease on his forehead.

"Me?" I asked, dumbfounded. "What are you talking about?"

"You used the Eye." He replied. "You used the goddamned Eye!"

I nodded. "Yes, I did, but I've ended up here... now. I don't understand..."

Andre shook his head in despair. "You fucking idiot! Don't you realize how dangerous that was? We ran one... ONE... full test of that thing! It was supposed to be locked up in my safe until we had had enough time to complete the research and testing phases! But then you decide to use it and now we've got these bad-asses chasing us down!"

"How did they find out about your research?" I asked. "And what does my using the Eye have to do with anything?"

"I don't know exactly." Andre shook his head. "Someone at the University must have told them... that's all I can think of. The technicians who helped me design the Eye? Possibly, even the lab geeks who helped me with research into Déjà vu? Someone! All I know is I woke up the morning after you dropped me off at home with some huge Russian dude standing over my bed! He..." Andre paused and swallowed hard, and then almost in a whisper said "He killed Kim, Lionel. He snapped her neck and made me watch!"

I was stunned. It was difficult to comprehend what Andre was saying right now, as my head was spinning with a million thoughts and questions. How had things gotten out of hand so quickly?

"Jesus" I whispered. "Andre... I'm so sorry!"

He waved his hands about, head hung low. "Forget that... it's done and dusted!" He looked up suddenly, a fierce spark in his eyes. "They will stop at nothing to get their hands on the Eye and my research! That's why I told you to leave the city and take the Eye with you! Everything was going quiet and then you showed up again this morning! They were probably watching my every move and I didn't even know it! If it wasn't for that runaway bus taking that van out this morning we would both already be dead!"

I rubbed my eyes. Nothing was making any sense right now! Why had I not returned to 2013 when I used the Eye at Nicole's place? Why 2011, only three months later? It was slowly becoming apparent that the Eye was unstable and uncontrollable! Sending the mind through time had yielded random results. There was no telling where I was going to end up on any given attempt!

"Okay" I said, "Back up a bit. Tell me what happened from that night at Lorraine's until now... because the last thing I remember is dropping you off at home and then going to Nicole's place. And now I'm here..."

Andre nodded. "First we're going to need more beer." He stood up to go to the bar, then turned and leaned in close to me and added: "And a gun!"

### Chapter 20

As Andre recanted his version of events as they had happened since the last time I could remember seeing him, the pub at the Royal began emptying out. The last race ran at 17h30 but most of the pundits had left before that, once they realised their chances of hitting the Pick 6 had disappeared along with the last of their money. By the time the last race was running there were only around six or seven die-hard fans still shouting for their selections - as if the jockeys or horses could hear them through the television sets. After that, it was really just Andre and myself along with two inebriated patrons still hugging their beers at the bar, oblivious to the two of us at the corner table.

"Kim was pissed with me for coming home so late, that Friday night, but I was too drunk to care and just crashed in bed." Andre was saying, "I must have woken up around 6am, needing a drink of water. I went to the bathroom and drank straight from the tap, and when I returned to the bedroom, he was there. I knew immediately I was in trouble. This was not your run of the mill burglar. He was huge, dressed all in black, and he was holding a rifle to Kim's head."

Andre's voice broke as he recounted the events. I knew how much he and Kim had loved each other, and could see that it was heartbreaking for him to talk about her.

"Did he say anything?" I asked.

"No." Andre replied. "Not at first. He just held up his finger to his mouth and gestured for me to sit down on the chair at my side of the bed. I obeyed, of course. Kim was still sleeping, so was completely unaware of what was happening. I knew this guy wasn't there to rob us, but I also wasn't sure what exactly he wanted with us. Once I was in the chair, he sat down on the bed next to Kim and slipped his arm under her neck. She started waking up and he quickly lifted her into a seated position and slipped his arm around her throat. She tried to scream, but he clamped his hand over her mouth..."

Andre paused for a moment, taking a long swallow of his beer. He wiped his mouth before continuing.

"She was so scared, Lionel. I could see it in her eyes! I was shaking my head at her, trying to indicate that she should keep calm, but it wasn't helping. This guy then asked me a question, and that's when I knew we were in serious trouble."

"What did he ask?"

"He said: I'm going to ask you for something, and when I do, you will give it to me immediately. If you cannot or will not do that, I will snap her neck. Do you understand? I was terrified, man! This guy with his Russian or whatever fucking accent was ready to kill my wife, you know?"

"Jesus!" I whispered. I could only imagine how he must have felt.

"So then he asked me for all my research into the KPPS, as well as the unit itself. When he said those words, my whole body went cold! At first, I couldn't comprehend how this stranger could even know about it in the first place! Slowly, I realised that somehow my idea had slipped out. Someone on the project with me had spoken about it, and the wrong people had heard about it. I should have classified everything, or patented it, or something, but it was never really supposed to work! It was an experiment! A trial!"

"And I had the Eye with me."

"Yes." Andre nodded. "I couldn't give him the research either... I would have, I swear to God, if I had it with me. I wasn't going to be taking any chances with Kim's life over some project that I was working on! I never gave a damn about anything except her right then... When I told him I don't have it with me, he... he didn't even hesitate." Andre swallowed hard, and I could see tears forming in his eyes. "He just snapped her neck, man. Like he was twisting a jar open... easy as that. Just one quick twist and a terrible cracking sound... Oh my God..."

I reached out and firmly squeezed Andre's arm. I knew what he was feeling, as I had felt the same after seeing Jackie's body. "I'm so sorry, man! This is my entire fault!"

"No, no." Andre said, composing himself. "I told you to take the Eye with you... I must have known that eventually it would become an object of interest... it was my own childish handling of the project in the first place that was to blame! I should have secured a team, done background checks on them, sworn them to secrecy... so many things I should have done! No-one is to blame except for me..."

"Why didn't he kill you too?" I asked.

"Once he killed Kim, I went berserk. I wanted to die, so I didn't care if he killed me or not. I rushed at him and he knocked me out with his rifle butt. I woke up and I was tied to the chair. He was smoking some foul smelling cigar and tipping the ash on the floor. I kept thinking how mad Kim was going to be, and then I would look over and she would be lying in the bed, pale... eyes open. Dead. Seeing her there like that, gone... that's what changed my mind. I wasn't giving this asshole anything! So I lied."

"You lied?"

Andre nodded. "I told him the research and the KPPS were in the garage, in the boot of Kim's car. Except the only thing I kept in there was a crowbar. When he took me to the garage and I opened the boot, I grabbed it and knocked him out with one swing, man. Home run. The second he fell I ran. I managed to find my car keys upstairs and I just left. I drove straight to a police station. The cops must've thought I was crazy. They took me back to the house though, but he was gone. Then I started worrying that they were going to accuse me of Kim's death, but he had left the ropes still tied to the chair, and I had rope burns on my wrists and ankles, so they believed me eventually."

I couldn't believe what Andre had gone through; it was so incredibly ridiculous that some insane person or group would go so far to get their hands on the Eye and everything that it represented. Not only had it cost the lives of my own Jackie and Nicole, as well as all those who were going to die at the hospital in 2013, but it had now also cost Andre the life of his Kim! In addition, both my life as well as Andre's were still hanging precariously in the balance!

"What happened next?" I asked.

"Well, I knew they would be watching me and that sooner or later they would be coming back, so I called you. You see, they were oblivious to your involvement at that point, as far as I could tell. You weren't even in the Science department! I knew that you would be the only person who could get away unnoticed! I sent you to the University to download the rest of my research from my computer, and collect all my files. Then I sent you out of town. I told you not to tell me where you were going, or to tell anyone else. When things had calmed down, I was going to call you to come back again. But then you came back this morning on your own!"

"Why would I have done that?" I asked.

"When you rocked up at the University this morning you told me that you had been phoned by someone who told you I had been admitted to hospital. When you arrived at hospital, I wasn't there, so obviously, you came to the University. They were watching. Watching and waiting. You walked us right into their trap!"

"They were watching you for three months!" I exclaimed. "Jesus, these guys mean business!"

"Every single second of the day, man! Once they realized who you were, and why you were there, they came for us just as I was trying to get you to leave again, and by some miracle, we managed to get away in your car. They were chasing us towards town when a bus jumped a traffic light and took them out. It was unbelievable! We dumped your car in town and then headed out on foot. And here we are now."

"Wow." I breathed. "That's crazy!"

"No, what's crazy is that you even took the risk of coming back here in the first place!" Andre exclaimed. " You knew what they were capable of! You brought that to my attention after we first used the Eye and you ended up in 2013, remember?"

"Well I can't answer for my actions today, man." I replied. "I don't recall any of it!"

Andre waved off my response. "Yeah, okay... but that's another thing... why would you use the Eye again anyway? You knew we weren't ready for another test!"

I could understand his frustration. Any scientist would want all the data, tests, and results confirmed. Checked and verified a thousand times before they would be prepared to put their reputation on the line. What Andre was perhaps only realizing now is that when it came to protecting your loved one's the rules and your concern over a good name went out the window!

"I'm sorry," I said. "But understand it from my point of view, as well. We have this amazing tool that, quite possibly, has the power to stop really bad things from happening! At the same time there are people's lives at stake, and if there is even the slightest chance that we can change that, that we could even save one life, we would be stupid not to at least try, regardless of the consequences!"

"Oh come on!" Andre exclaimed! "We don't know for sure that we could change anything that happens! We discussed that!"

"Well I'm not convinced!" I said. "When I was in 2013, the only reason I never died at the hospital was because I had somehow pre-arranged for Nicole to be there and pick me up! I changed my immediate future by doing that!"

"But to what end?" Andre asked. "Just so that you could die a few hours later in a different location? The end result was the same, ultimately!"

"I'm still not sure if I would have died..."

"Seriously? A bullet flying at your head? How would you have survived that?"

"Look," I said, "I'm not saying I would have survived either, but even a two or three hour extension on my life was an achievement! It means it's still possible to make changes, however small!"

"Okay, fine!" Andre said. "Let's assume that it was possible... you have used the Eye twice, am I correct?"

"Yes." I replied. "The first time was in your office when I went to 2013, according to you, and then the second time was at Nicole's place, and I've ended up here... now."

"Okay then. So why didn't you return to 2013 when you used the Eye the second time? Why land here, three months later?"

I shrugged. "That's a question I asked myself. It's random, I guess."

"Exactly!" Andre said, slamming his hand on the table. "It's random! All we have proven by using the Eye a second time around is that it's random! You don't have any control on where your mind is going to send you! What hope could you possibly have of making any difference to the future if you can't even control where you end up? It's unreliable! And dangerous!"

"Well there has to be a way to control it then..." I replied.

"Ha!" Andre laughed. "There isn't, man! And even if there was it could take years to figure out how to make it do that, and we don't have the time, trust me!"

"So what's the point of holding onto it then?" I asked angrily, "Why not just give the stupid thing up? Let these SUV guys have it?"

Andre shook his head, leaned back, and breathed in deeply. "Because it still works." He said slowly. "Because the Eye still does what it is supposed to. It sends your mind to another time. Yes, it's random. Yes, it's unstable. Yes, it may never be improved to the point where it is safe or easy to use... but it still works! And, most importantly, it's unique and priceless for all of the above reasons!" He pushed his glass away and stood up. "The bottom line is, as long as we still have it, we're not dead! This thing is keeping us alive."

### Chapter 21

It was after 7pm when Andre and I eventually decided it was safe enough to leave the Royal Hotel and venture back out into the darkening streets. December was the peak of summer in South Africa, and the sun usually set around 18h30 each day. It had been a hot day, and even now, as we made our exit an unexpected warm air greeted us in the semi darkness. The central business district of East London was a quiet place at night, as it was notorious these days for prostitutes and muggings, and for that reason most folk chose to bypass it and head instead up into the malls in the suburbs where safety was of a higher standard. The advantage for us was that we could spot any suspicious looking people or vehicles in the quiet streets immediately. It was also unlikely that the men chasing us would have expected us to hang around town after we lost them, but we weren't taking any chances. We kept close to the buildings, moving between the darker shadows and avoiding the direct glare of the streetlights as they lit sections of the pavement.

"Where are we going?" I asked Andre as we scurried along.

"I need to get to a phone." He said.

"Don't you have a cell?"

"I've taken the battery out. I think they have been tracking me with it, and listening in to my conversations." He said.

I nodded. "Okay. So what's the plan?"

"Find a phone. Phone a friend. Get the fuck out of Dodge."

We kept our line of travel down Cambridge Street, avoiding the higher traffic flow of Oxford Street. After a few blocks, we reached Fleet Street, which intersected Cambridge. There was a rundown pool hall to our left, and the dull thud of hip-hop music was spilling out of the narrow doorway and into the street where we stood. A couple of African men were standing around outside the doorway, a few with open bottles of cider in their hands. Cocaine and Heroin had become a prominent choice of poison for the newer generation of post-apartheid South African youngsters and it was more than likely that these men were drug dealers or lookouts for the dealers inside the pool hall.

"Let's try in there." Andre said, and I grabbed his arm before he could walk towards the doorway.

"This place looks a bit dodgy." I whispered.

"Exactly. The last place they would expect us to be."

I nodded and followed him as he approached the small gang of men. They stopped their conversation as we approached and I could feel their stares all over my body. They must have been wondering what two suited white guys were doing in their territory, and the tension in the air was instant. One of them moved towards the doorway of the pool hall, blocking our entrance, and I found myself tightening my grip on the Eye, ready to start swinging.

"Where you going?" he asked, and a couple of his friends chuckled behind him.

"I just need to use the phone." Andre said.

The guy sniggered and turned to his colleagues, speaking in his home language of Xhosa.

" _Le doda imhlophe kufuneka ibe ipolisa"_

There was a general moan of agreement from the rest of the gang after his statement, and a few of them moved a little closer to us.

"We're not policemen." Andre replied, and the surprised look on the faces of the ringleader and his crew soon turned into smiles.

" _Uthetha ulwimi_!" the ringleader said, a different tone to his voice now, less aggressive and distrustful. In my limited understanding of Xhosa, I understood that he was saying, You speak the language!

Andre nodded as he replied. " _Ewe ndiyenza_."

" _Ukuze ufuna ntoni embuthweni wethu?"_ the ringleader said, and I got lost in the translation. I focused my attention instead on their body language, and I could see it was a little friendlier, which made me feel more comfortable.

Andre had leaned in closer to the ringleader and was saying something quietly in his ear, but loud enough for the others to hear. I caught a few words: _"Kufuneka ndifowunele le doda umbambile ngubani oyabayo ufuna indawo ihlale."_

The small gang of men all burst out laughing at the same time, slapping each other on the backs and some of them nodding and pointing at me. I blushed, not sure of what exactly had just happened, but smiling broadly anyway. This made them laugh even louder. The ringleader stepped aside and gestured for Andre and me to enter the club, holding his stomach from laughter. As we passed them by, one of the guys patted me on my shoulder. I had absolutely no idea what had been so funny, and as soon as we were inside, I asked Andre what he had said to them.

"I told them we needed to use the phone because your wife caught you having sex with her ugly sister and kicked you out, and now you needed to find a place to live." He said.

My jaw dropped in astonishment. "Are you serious?"

"Relax!" he said. "If there is one thing that can break the ice between men of different races, it's the common bond we all share when it comes to women!"

I shook my head in disbelief as we headed over to the bar. The pool hall was packed with patrons, most of them African, but in-between were a few colored and Indian people as well. The place was filled with thick smoke and the pounding bass of a South African hip-hop song. Everyone was shouting at each other over the music, and it was like entering a different world compared to the quiet streets outside. Andre was speaking to the barman, a large African man in a white vest, who was wiping out a glass with a rag. The man nodded and gestured to the toilet area on his right. Andre headed in that direction and I followed. We went through a door into a small lobby outside two doors marked as Male and Female toilets. On the wall opposite the doors there was a familiar, yet outdated, blue Telkom public telephone box. In the current age of cell phones, ipads, internet, Blackberry's and Instant Messaging, these relics of the past were quickly fading into oblivion as fewer and fewer people needed the hassle of dropping coins in to a box to make a one minute phone call to anyone anymore.

"Do you have change?" Andre asked, and I shoved my hands into my pockets, finding a few silver coins. I passed them on to him and he dropped them through the coin slot and then dialed a number.

"Who are you calling?" I asked.

"The only person I can honestly trust right now, aside from you." He replied, turning his back on me. As the person on the other end of the line picked up, he said a few quick words to them, a few heated exchanges which I couldn't quite make out, nodded his head a couple of times, and then hung up. "They will be here in 20 minutes. Let's wait outside."

We exited the club, and Andre shook hands with the ringleader and his friends at the door, the traditional South African handshake greeting which involved three or four stages of handshakes – palm to palm, then fingers over the top of the hand, then thumbs greeting, then pulling the four fingers of each hand away from each other. It was a welcome that was seldom seen anywhere else in the world, and only once you had mastered the African Shake could you truly say you had experienced the country and its culture completely. It was still warm outside, but a slight gust of wind had started up, a hot berg wind, which did little to cool the evening down.

We stood to the side of the doorway, in a shadowy area, away from the view of passing motorists. Andre pulled his pipe out of his pocket, stuffed some Rum and Maple tobacco into it, and then proceeded to puff it into life. The sickly sweet smell was a familiar reminder of past days. He offered it to me, and I declined. I had smoked cigarettes for fifteen years before quitting, and I wasn't planning on starting up again, no matter how tempting it was.

"We need to get out of town, " Andre said in-between puffs. "but our options are limited. We can't fly. They'll be watching the airport like hawks. Our only alternative is going to be to drive out. There is no way they could track every vehicle leaving this city; I don't think their range extends far enough to involve a citywide shutdown of the roads. It's our only option."

"Where will we go?" I asked.

"I don't know. Durban? From there we could head up towards Mozambique."

"I guess." I said. "We'll need some money. I've got no idea where any of my stuff is – wallet, ID, clothes..."

"I've got us covered there. When Kim died there was a substantial life policy, which she kept, hidden from me. I haven't touched it yet, but it may just come in handy now." Andre said.

"What about the Eye?" I asked. "And the research?"

"We have to keep it hidden. I reckon a safe-deposit box once we get to Mozambique. Wait a few years until the dust settles, and then try and get a team together to work on testing and perfecting it."

"Don't you think we should destroy it, rather?" I asked.

Andre laughed and then spat out a piece of tobacco that had found its way up the pipe and into his mouth. "Destroy it? Are you nuts? Replicating what I've achieved with the KPPS is virtually impossible. The slightest frequency range differential, the slightest dip or peak in voltage levels, could turn it into a useless metal ball. It's a once in a lifetime piece of equipment, and it's worth millions! Once we've run it through the required amount of testing, once we have SABS approval on it, patents and copyrights on the research and a guaranteed working product, the applications are endless. Even if we only consider it from a medical point of view... but there are so many others, military, research, financial..."

"This would probably explain why half the world wants us dead in order to get their hand on it!" I exclaimed. " Look, man, I know how important this is to you, but have you thought about the consequences? The lives at stake?"

"In any war there are casualties." Andre said. "But in the long run the lives of a few are nothing compared to the lives that could be saved! I mean, think about it! AIDS kills millions of people a year! Then there's Cancer... imagine being able to find the cures for these diseases from the future, and applying them now... how much of a difference we will make to humanity in general!"

"You're contradicting yourself now," I said. "You said we couldn't change the outcome of our futures, yet you are talking about giving life to millions who technically should have died... how much change does that inflict on the future?"

"It's different." Andre said. "You are talking about changing things you've already seen. That future is already planned and laid out and set in stone. You've been there. It's not possible to change that, but what we are talking about is a human change. It's a change that affects the world in general in gentle waves not in one sudden motion!"

We were interrupted as a white Ford Fiesta pulled up at the curb and honked its horn. Andre gestured for me to follow him, and we quickly crossed the sidewalk from the shadows and opened the car doors. Andre jumped in front, and I took the back seat. As soon as we were seated, the car sped away. I was still trying to find my seatbelt when the driver spoke, and my body went ice cold as I heard the voice, and I knew who she was before I even saw her familiar face.

Jackie!

### Chapter 22

Seeing her again like this was a shock to my system. The last time I had seen her familiar features - the shape of her nose, the way her earlobes curled up at the bottom, the curve of her neck - she was wearing my black leather belt as a permanent necklace. It was difficult enough trying to decipher the mixed emotions I was having right now without her physical presence overpowering every logical thought in my mind. As we drove through the quiet night I tried to distract myself by watching the city pass by through the window, but even there I could see her reflection in the window occasionally as she sat behind the steering wheel. She was wearing Red Door, her favorite perfume, and it hung in the air inside the small interior of the car like the memory of an old friend. It was taking every ounce of my being not to grab her from behind and just hold her! I could sense, however, that the feelings I was having were one-sided. She was distant and cold, and speaking only to Andre as we drove, ignoring me completely as if I were not even there.

"What's going on?" she was asking as she drove.

"I'm sorry for involving you, Jackie." Andre replied. "We had nobody else to call. We just need to get to a safe place for tonight, and then tomorrow we'll be out of your hair, I promise!"

Jackie glanced back at me, disdain in her eyes. "You know if it wasn't for the fact that I loved Kim so much..."

Andre nodded in agreement. "I know. And I – we – appreciate that."

"Yes." I said. "Thank you."

"Please don't talk to me." She snapped back over her shoulder. "There is this small matter of a restraining order which is still in place against you, and I swear I will use it if you even try and speak to me again!"

I raised my eyebrows and blew air out between my lips. Wow, I couldn't believe our relationship had deteriorated to such extremes! Restraining order? What the hell?

"Okay." Andre said quickly, intervening. "Let's all just relax. Right now we should only be concerned with keeping a low profile and figuring out what we're going to do next."

"What exactly have you two gotten yourselves into, anyway?" she asked.

"It's a long story." Andre replied. "Better if you don't know too much. I'm starved. Can we stop for a burger?"

The conversation dwindled into silence as we headed for the nearest McDonald's. It was only a few minutes away, in Beacon Bay. We ordered from the drive through and then scoffed our Quarter-Pounder's with cheese down as Jackie drove the rest of the way. As we pulled into Edge Road, I immediately recognized the street from a few nights ago. We were headed for our old house – Jackie's now. She pulled the Fiesta into the driveway and then switched the engine off. Before she opened her door, she turned to me, eyes dancing with emotion.

"Remember this is not your house anymore." She said. "You haven't lived here in 9 months."

I nodded. In light of her earlier warning, I felt it was safer not to reply with words. I wasn't concerned about forgetting my place in our current relationship; I was more concerned about seeing that death-filled lounge again! There were too many recent memories, which had left terrible scars for me in there, and going back inside the house was going to be a tough challenge!

I followed the two of them up the walkway to the front door. Jackie unlocked it and led us inside. She flipped the switch that turned on the lights and the first thing that caught my attention was the carpet, that creamy Belgotex that would later become her final resting place. My stomach churned at the sight of it, and images, first of Jackie's pale dead face, and then Nicole's freshly deceased face, flashed before my eyes. This room was innocent enough, yet the mere knowledge of events that were yet to unfold here had turned it into a spine tingling and dark place for me!

"Coffee?" Jackie asked, as she headed into the kitchen and we both nodded in unison. Andre flopped down on the three-seater couch, while I found myself gravitating towards the single seater. It had been my favorite chair when Jackie and I were still married and as I sat down in it, I couldn't help but feel a twang of nostalgia. The remote for the television was on a side table next to the chair and I used it to turn the television on. It was on a Discovery channel, which made me smile. Jackie and I used to lie for hours on the couch on a Saturday afternoon just watching Discovery! There was a small sense of satisfaction in knowing she still did this even after we had divorced!

She entered the lounge carrying a small tray with three cups of coffee, and placed them on the centre table. She handed Andre his and then passed me mine. As I sipped on my coffee, I couldn't help but smile at the fact that she still made my coffee exactly as I had always preferred it – three sugars and milk, two spoons of coffee. She sat down on the three-seater next to Andre.

"Okay." She said. "Who is going to tell me what on earth is going on?"

I looked across at Andre, and he shrugged. He put his coffee down, sighed, and then replied, "We can't tell you too much. It's for your own safety. Can you just trust me on this one?"

"Does it have anything to do with the man who murdered Kim?" she asked.

I could see Andre's body posture slump slightly as she mentioned his wife's name. "Yes. It does. I know how much you loved her too, Jackie, which is why I need you to understand that you are better off knowing as little as possible. We are dealing with some very dangerous people, and neither I, nor Lionel, would want you dragged into any of this!"

Jackie looked over at me. "And how much of this is your fault?"

I could feel the coldness in her words from across the room. "I wish I could say that I knew for sure that it wasn't my fault, but I can't."

"It's complicated." Andre interjected. "At this point the only people to blame for her death are the ones that orchestrated it in the first place. These Russians or whatever they are... they are ultimately to blame here. Lionel is as much a pawn in all of this as you are."

"And does any of this have anything to do with what you ranted on and on about before we got divorced?" she asked me.

I was confused by that, as I had no recollections of anything that occurred shortly before our divorce, so it was difficult for me to answer. I shrugged and replied, "What do you mean?"

"All your crazy ranting's about the dreams. The future. The end of the goddamned world!" She was getting angry now and her voice had risen in volume. "You know – all the things that cost us our marriage? That was the only world that ever ended! Our world."

I couldn't help but feel her pain and a simultaneous nauseating sensation that brought bile up my throat. Was that the reason? Had I already known and spoken about the Eye and the future I saw before I even used it the first time – months or years before I ever used it? Before I even knew it would exist one day? How was that possible, and why couldn't I remember any of it? As I considered what I must have sounded like back then, how ridiculous it must have all seemed to her! The descent of a mind into madness! The physical presence of the Eye was pressing into my thigh where it rested in the pocket of my slacks.

"You were obsessed, Lionel! Obsessed!"

"I..." There were no words I could offer her in consolation right now. I would have loved to tell her that I understood, and that I had once lost my mind temporarily but that everything was different now. I would've also loved to tell her that I had finally come to my senses and discarded all that crazy talk of time travel and the future... except that right now it was the only thing in my life that I was a hundred percent certain about! I couldn't tell her any of that, of course... it would only further cement the facts for her that I had thrown our marriage away on fantastical imaginings and that I was probably still a bit loopy!

"It has nothing to do with that." Andre said quickly, as he noticed how uncomfortable I was getting. "This is just about Kim."

Using Kim's name seemed to have a calming effect on Jackie, and she immediately relaxed her body posture. She nodded sincerely. "Okay. I know. I'm sorry."

"Look." Andre said. "If you really want to help, you can! We need to leave town tomorrow. We need to get as far away from East London as possible, at least for a while. Would you be able to borrow us your car?"

She frowned. "My car? Why? What's wrong with yours?"

"These men that killed Kim are after me now. They're after Lionel too. They have been watching my house, listening to my phone calls, following me to work. They know where I am all the time! Except for right now at this very moment! We managed to lose them earlier today, and now is the only chance we may have of slipping out of their grasp, but we don't have time to waste! They don't know who you are, and they have no interest in you either. If you borrowed us your car we could disappear and things could return to normal eventually – hopefully."

"It sounds like you're talking about a long time?" she asked.

"Possibly." Andre replied. "Look, I will have access to Kim's life insurance money in a few days. When it comes through, I will send you enough to buy yourself another vehicle. We don't have the luxury of waiting a few days. The longer we are standing still, the more likely it is they will catch up with us. Can you trust me when I tell you that you are our last resort?"

"What happens when people realize you have disappeared? What happens if I have to answer questions about your whereabouts?"

"Lie." Andre said. "Lie through your teeth! Let everyone wonder... the more mystery there is around our disappearance, the better it will be for us."

"I don't know..." she said tentatively. "This all just seems too crazy! What about the police? Why can't you go to them? Surely they can help?"

"I've tried that!" Andre said. "They need proof – and besides, I'm not sure I can even trust the police. These guys, this organization, or whatever they are, they could have their fingers in all sorts of pies for all I know!"

She sipped her coffee, holding the cup with both hands to absorb the warmth it was giving off. For a long moment, she was lost in thought, as she seemed to be weighing the options in her mind, her grey-green eyes so distant.

"Okay." She finally said. "I will give you my car, and my silence, but only on one condition!"

"And what is that?" Andre asked, frowning across at me and then returning his gaze to Jackie.

She finished her coffee and placed the cup on her lap. "When this is all over – when everything returns to normal, as you say – even if that takes a long, long time - when everything is over I want to know what this was all about. I want your word that you will tell me everything! From the smallest detail, no matter how bad it might be!"

Andre smiled and nodded in agreement. "I promise. Everything!"

"Okay!" she said, standing up. "There are blankets and pillows in the two spare rooms. Help yourselves to a bath or shower in the guest bathroom. I'm going to sleep now. In the morning, we can work out how we're going to do this." She collected our empty coffee cups and headed for the kitchen. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." We both replied in unison.

Andre slapped his hands on his knees. "Well, I don't know about you, but I could use a bath, that's for sure." He stood and headed for the hallway that led to the bathroom, but paused just before entering it. "Are you ready for tomorrow, Lionel?" he asked, "Are you ready to leave everything and everyone you know behind?"

I laughed softly at his words. "I already left everything behind the night I went to bed in February 2010, man. Everything since then has been some crazy nightmare that I just can't seem to wake up from!"

Andre nodded and smiled at me. "Well, let's hope we can change that soon. I'm confident that we will!"

His words were meant to be comforting and reassuring, but I could find no comfort in them. For me they were as empty as the top half of an hourglass once all the sand has run out, and I was just waiting for someone to turn the whole thing upside down again and dump it all back on top of my head. There was a plan for tomorrow, and maybe that plan would make a difference, or maybe it would not; but that plan was for tomorrow. The days beyond tomorrow were the ones that had me the most concerned!

### Chapter 23

I slept better than I could remember sleeping in a very long time! It could have been the fact that I was sleeping in a familiar environment for the first time since I had woken up in Jackie's house recently, or perhaps it was just a culmination of all the events over the past few "days" that had finally caught up with me and my mind had decided it was time to rest. Either way, I woke up feeling refreshed and energetic. The house had a particular scent and feel to it, one that had been ingrained into my subconscious for over twelve years. From the sounds in the street outside, to the way the branches of a tree scraped against the roof occasionally as the wind blew gently, to the angle of the sunlight as it crept up over the windowsill, and traced a path down the wall above my head towards my pillows. This was as good as any therapy session I could get and the 8-hour sleep had been a most needed recharging session!

I could smell the familiar aroma of bacon frying as it wafted through to the spare room where I was laying. My stomach grumbled and I realized that, aside from the quick McDonald's burger last night, I hadn't had a decent meal in quite a while! It was strange to think in terms of forward and backward time... I had eaten fish and French fries at Nicole's place a few evenings ago, yet that was in a future body. This body of mine from 2011 had not eaten that meal! My mind could recall it clearly, as if it had only recently happened, yet my stomach was reminding me that it was a lie. I began to realize that sending the mind repeatedly to and from different times could possibly have a major psychological impact! Somewhere along the way, the lines could start to get blurred and current reality would become questionable to oneself as the battles between the mind and the physical body increased. This was quite alarming, and I made a mental note to give my theory to Andre later.

I decided it was time to get up. The smell of cooking was driving me crazy! I was surprised to find an old pair of jeans and a familiar T-shirt on the chair next to my bed! Jackie had obviously stored some of the clothes I had never collected from her when we got divorced and must have unpacked a box to find me something clean to wear. I was flattered that she would have thought that far ahead for me. I got dressed quickly and then headed out into the hallway towards the kitchen, my bare feet cold against the tiles. She was standing at the stove as I came in, turning the bacon that was sizzling in a frying pan.

"Morning." I said.

"Morning."

"That smells really good." I moved over to one of the kitchen cupboards above the counter and opened the doors. I removed three coffee cups and proceeded to make coffee. The cupboards were still packed the way they had been before we divorced, and I knew exactly where to find the sugar, coffee, and milk. I flicked the kettle on and then leaned back against the sink, watching as Jackie continued with making breakfast. She had already fried mushrooms and onions, green peppers and sliced tomatoes, and had stacked a plate with bacon and was now busy scrambling some eggs. She was wearing a short grey gown, the belt pulled tightly around her waist, her long and shapely legs protruding out from underneath. She jogged every morning so her calves were well formed. I couldn't help but recall the many times I had slipped my arms around her from behind in this very situation in a previous life.

The kettle clicked off as the water finished boiling, and I quickly poured it into the cups and stirred the coffee, then placed Jackie's cup next to her at the stove. She muttered a thank you. I couldn't help but notice the awkwardness that hung in the air when we were in close proximity to each other. I guess when I considered it from her point of view it was only to be expected! From what I understood, I had changed as a person somewhere in late 2010, and it had put tremendous strain on our once perfect relationship. It must have been really difficult for her, as she had ultimately been the innocent party in all of this! I really wished that we could just sit down and talk this whole thing out, not to get back together again, as I could tell that she was too badly hurt for that, but simply to clear the air between us, but what would I tell her? The truth? The truth had been the wedge driven between us in the first place! The alternative was lying, but what purpose would that serve? I could only hope that one day there would come a time when it would be possible to clear everything up, but it was obvious that that day could not be today or anytime soon.

"Ouch! I am stiff!" Andre came through the kitchen door with both hands behind his back as if massaging his spine. "I'm getting too old for all this athletic stuff! Yummy. What smells so good?"

"Breakfast." Jackie said, and then gestured at the dining room table through the archway to the lounge. "Sit down."

We sat down and she brought us each a plate of food. It was really delicious and we ate with fervor. Jackie joined us and for the next few minutes, there was only the sound of cutlery on crockery as we savoured the home cooked breakfast. Andre was the first one to break the silence.

"Are you going to be okay without transport for the next couple of days?" he asked Jackie.

"I'll be fine." She replied. "I don't have any fittings this week and plenty to keep me busy at home."

"I would give you my car" Andre said, "but they know what it looks like and it could lead them back to you, so I wouldn't want to take that chance."

"It's okay." She replied. " When are you planning to leave?"

Andre looked over at me and shrugged. "As soon as possible?"

I nodded in agreement. "The longer we stay here the more dangerous it becomes for Jax."

"What about supplies?" she asked, choosing to ignore the use of my pet name for her. "Food? Clothes?"

"Those we can buy." Andre replied. "What we will need to take with is our passports. If we're heading for Mozambique, we're going to need them. I can grab mine from the house on the way out, what about yours, Lionel?"

I shrugged. I seriously had no idea where mine was. I had only spent a few minutes in my townhouse in Morningside. "Your guess would be as good as mine."

"I have it." Jackie said, and I looked at her in surprise. "You left a lot of stuff in boxes in the shed when you left, including some documents and your passport. I'll go get it."

She left the table as Andre and I quickly finished up our breakfast.

"She's a great woman!" Andre said, and I nodded in agreement. She was. It really hurt that things had turned out the way they did. I only wish they hadn't! "You've got the Eye, right?"

"Yes." It was in the pocket of my jeans. "So... Mozambique?"

He nodded. "It's the closest neighboring country, and I have a contact on that side, one of my old dorm room friends from College. It will be a starting point, I guess."

Jackie returned with my passport and handed it to me. She sat back down and looked earnestly at us across the table. "When are you realistically planning on coming back to South Africa?"

"Wish I could tell you that." Andre said. "But it's difficult to say. It may only be a few months... maybe years?"

She caught my eye for a moment, but then quickly looked away. "Well, just don't go getting yourselves killed. I packed a suitcase of Lionel's old clothes for you guys. Might be a little loose on you though, Andre."

"Thank you, Jackie." He replied. "It will help."

We stood up from the table and headed off to collect our measly possessions. When we met up again in the living room Jackie handed Andre the keys to her Ford Fiesta.

"Look after her!" she warned and then smiled. Andre gave her a hug and then headed for the door. I stood there awkwardly for a moment, unsure as to whether or not I should attempt any body contact. She moved closer and placed her arms around my shoulders briefly. "Goodbye, Lionel."

I squeezed back gently; the feel of her body pressing against mine was both familiar and strange at the same time. "Thank you, babe." The word had just slipped out, a pet name we had used for each other for more than 12 years, a force of habit.

She pulled away quickly and I could tell she was uncomfortable. "Make sure you look after Andre... he has been through a lot in the past few months, you know, with what happened to Kim and everything."

I nodded. "I will. I promise. And take care of yourself, too."

I headed out the front door and she stopped in the doorway to watch us leave. Andre had already loaded the suitcase and his briefcase in the boot of the car and was climbing into the driver's seat. He waved and smiled at Jackie, blowing her a friendly kiss. She chuckled and waved back. I went around to the passenger side and opened my door, getting one last look at Jackie across the roof of the car, and seeing her there in the doorway in her gown, waving goodbye, left me with the strongest sense of déjà vu. How many mornings had that not been the scene, as I would leave for work in the past? A few hundred? A thousand?

As I waved goodbye now I couldn't shake a terrible feeling that had started developing in the pit of my stomach. I was leaving her behind, walking away again, except how much worse was it this time? I had let her down romantically once before, I had disappointed her by placing an obsession with the future above how I had once obsessed over her! She did not deserve any of the pain I had once caused her, and for that I was solely to blame! Now, as I leave again, I cannot help but wonder if it was the right thing to do – to leave her behind. Andre and I were headed into the unknown. Dangerous men were after us and it seemed wrong to place Jackie in the path of that danger by taking her with, but was the alternative any better? Considering that I knew what would happen to her a few years from now? Considering that in all likelihood this may be the last time I would ever see her alive again?

As a part of me wanted to get out and run to her, and drag her with us, Andre reversed out of the driveway. I had my finger on the handle, ready to open the door.

You cannot change the future already seen.

Andre's words were ice-cold reminders of a fact yet to be proven beyond any doubt. Yet as we pulled into the street and drove away, as the house that was once my home, and would one day become her tomb, faded into the distance behind us, I promised myself that someday I would prove him wrong.

### Chapter 24

Durban, which is a Zulu phrase meaning bay or lagoon, is the largest city in the province of KwaZulu-Natal, and is the third largest city in South Africa. It is situated approximately 630 kilometers from East London, along the N2. To get there we had to drive through the old Transkei area of the Eastern Cape, which used to be an independent homeland. The towns in the old Transkei were very rundown, very poor, and very dirty. The biggest of these was Umtata, which lay almost smack bang in the middle between East London and Durban. It was about a two and a half hour drive to Umtata, and as we entered the N2 Freeway from the Beacon Bay off-ramp, so I settled down in my seat for the long drive. It was still early morning on Thursday the 15th December, yet the freeway was extremely busy. The 16th December was a public holiday so many people had taken the opportunity to head to their families over the long weekend and had decided to get a jumpstart on the journey. As we passed the small village of Gonubie, the two-lane highway became a single lane road.

The N2 was a major route between the two cities of Durban and East London, and it was always filled with trucks heading in both directions. It was also an infamously dangerous road, with many twists and turns as it wound through the mountainous Transkei and Kei Cutting areas. The poor infrastructure and maintenance were also a deciding factor. There had been over 1300 vehicle accidents this year so far, and that was just between East London and Umtata. The road had been awarded the dubious title of deadliest road in South Africa.

It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, and by 10am, temperatures were already headed towards 30 degrees Celsius. Luckily the Ford Fiesta had an air conditioner, which was working overtime as we approached the infamous Kei Cuttings, a mountain pass that dropped down to cross the Great Kei River before climbing steeply again towards Butterworth, approximately seventy-five kilometers from East London. As we entered the start of the Cuttings, the vehicles around us all reduced speed. There were vertical drop offs to the side of the road which would cause instant death if you lost control of your vehicle and ended up plummeting down the two or three hundred feet drop. Andre was a very good driver though, and he erred on the side of caution as he stuck behind the vehicle in front of him for the fifteen-minute drive to the bottom of the pass.

"I can't believe we have to go to these extremes to protect ourselves." I said to him.

"It might be overkill." He replied, "But I'm not taking any chances! You have seen first-hand what these people are capable of. And so have I."

"And do you think they are ever going to back down, whoever they are?"

"Who knows?" He replied. "You told me they were still after you in 2013, so do they ever stop?"

I nodded. "But that's another thing. In 2013, they are still after me, so what difference does it really make for us to leave now anyway? Are we preventing anything from happening that is going to happen the way it was supposed to, no matter what?"

"It's complicated." He said, "But you have to remember that we are merely hitching a ride along the timelines of our own existence every time we use the Eye. Anywhere your physical body may be in the future is where your mind will "land", if I can call it that. Therefore, it would stand to reason then that anything we do now is merely the path we would have taken to end up at that point in the future anyway. You and I leaving, is not intended to change the future, its intended to save our lives. If we stay in East London, we are dead. If we don't protect the research and the Eye from falling into the wrong hands, then we may as well be dead anyway."

"Can I die?" I asked, and Andre burst out laughing.

"Of course you can die! You're not Superman, you know!"

"No, I know that. I just mean that I have visited my "future-self" once already. I have been in my physical body in 2013, and I was alive. Would it not stand to reason then, based on what you were saying earlier, that no matter what happens now I am still going to end up alive in 2013?"

"Would you be willing to bet your life on that theory?" Andre asked. "If I stopped the car right now and told you to jump off the edge of these Cuttings, would you be able to guarantee that you would not die?"

"No, but that would be stupid. I wouldn't do that." I replied.

"True, because you have control over your own actions, but what if we got hit by a truck? What if you got shot in the head? You can die! Don't be fooled into thinking you can't! The future hasn't happened yet, and maybe at the time you used the Eye for the first time your future in 2013 was as you saw it. Maybe it's different now... Who really knows? That's one of the reasons we need to test the Eye to the extreme. Thousands of times! Studying cause and effect, and the ripple effect of small acts, we do in the present. It's a huge task, and it's a huge mystery, for now."

I watched the passing scenery for a few moments, pondering what Andre had said. "So what have we learnt so far, then?"

Andre sighed. "Not much. We know the Eye actually works. That's the most important thing, and you have had three jumps, right? Once in my office when we tested it the first time, back to my office from 2013, and then again when you ended up here?"

"Yes." I replied.

"So what is the common thread so far? It's not the timing of the jump."

"No, because the first time I ended up almost two years in the future, in 2013, and the third time I only went a few months forward, in the same year."

"It can't be the state of mind at the landing point then either... the first time you were almost comatose on the floor, the third time we were running down an alleyway, adrenalin pumping."

"True, so then it's completely random! That's frustrating." I sighed.

Andre frowned and hit his palm on the dashboard. "There is one thing that has been constant!" he exclaimed suddenly.

"What?"

"The Eye!" he yelled, and when he saw the confusion on my face, added "It has been with you on both ends of your jump!"

"Has it?" I asked, not convinced.

"Think about it. It was in your hands when you jumped from my office the first time; I know that for a fact. You landed in 2013 and it was also there, on the floor in Jackie's house."

"But I wasn't holding it." I interjected.

"Not that you can remember, but maybe in the awakening on that side it rolled out of your hands? That's a possibility, right?"

"I guess."

"Okay, and then you used it in Nicole's bedroom when Viktor and his men were after you, and you returned to 2011, back in my office. Both times the Eye was in your hand!"

I was nodding now - he could be onto something!

"And then you used it the third time at Nicole's apartment three months ago, and you've landed here, when we were running away through town – and the Eye was in your hands then as well!"

"Okay!" I exclaimed as it dawned on me. "So the Eye is what links the two time zones together? For the current mind to link with a future mind, both bodies need to be in contact with the Eye!"

"Exactly! It's like the candle in the window!" He could see I wasn't getting the analogy, and elaborated. "You know, when someone is lost or has gone away, the old tradition was that you would keep a candle burning in the window for as long as it took, so that when the person one day returned they could find their way home in the dark!"

"Okay." I laughed. "That's fitting, I guess. It's the candle in the window, then."

"This is a breakthrough!" Andre laughed. "This could change all my research around this thing! It adds the sense of touch to the equation, and memory, and common object theory! I've got so much work to do when we reach Mozambique!"

"Of course, this also limits the applications of the Eye, then." I said, and I could see Andre's grin fading and being replaced by a frown.

"In what way?"

"Well, if you have to be touching the Eye in the future, you could only theoretically go to a point in the future where you are touching it. And how would you control when that would be if it hasn't happened yet?"

Andre nodded slowly. "I hear you. That presents a small challenge. That would also explain why your jumps have been so random. Consider the times you touch the Eye for the rest of your life as 'markers' on the timeline. Each marker becomes a landing point, and the consistency of your jumps would be equally related to how many markers you had – or how much contact you have with the Eye in the days or years to come. The more contact, the more likely that it would work!"

"Interesting." I said. "It's almost as if-"

My words were cut short as Andre slammed on the brakes suddenly. I looked forward to see a silver Mercedes-Benz had cut in front of us, while overtaking the cars behind us, I realized he wasn't going to make the line due to oncoming traffic.

"Asshole!" Andre shouted, pressing hard on the hooter.

The driver of the Mercedes was oblivious to the cursing, and had settled in between us and an inter-link horse and trailer carrying frozen meat. He would swerve out over the barrier line as he tried to get a view from the front in order to take a chance at a quick overtake, and then swerve back in again as he realized a vehicle was coming. He did this several times.

"I hate idiot drivers like this!" I hissed.

"Me too." Andre replied. "And you wonder why the death rate on South African roads is so high!"

The Mercedes had stopped trying to overtake the truck in front of us now, and had instead slowed down and put an increasing distance between him and the inter-link. Andre had to ride on the brakes to avoid driving into the rear of the Mercedes as it slowed down more and more on the steep declining road.

"What the hell is he doing?" he asked, shaking his head.

Soon we were almost at a crawling pace, and Andre started looking for a gap to overtake the vehicle. As he was about to make his move I had to grab his arm suddenly, my fingers clenching hard into the skin.

"Watch out!"

In front of us, the Mercedes rear windows had wound down and on either side two men were leaning out the windows and facing us with AK-47's raised!

### Chapter 25

When the first bullets started firing, I ducked down below the dashboard, pulling Andre down with me. The sound of bullets penetrating the windshield and passing over our heads seemed almost unreal, a snapping and popping sound that was difficult to comprehend. Andre had slammed on the brakes now, and the car had come to a screeching stop in the middle of the highway. From behind I heard a sudden blast of a car horn and then screaming tires before a loud crunching sound and then the Fiesta was swinging around wildly in a circle, glass spraying everywhere from the back window that had imploded, tires straining against the hot tarmac as we did a full 180 degree spin. There were several more thuds from the back, as the line of cars behind us pummeled into the cars in front of them, a chain reaction of twisted metal, broken glass, and burnt rubber. Through all of this, the firing of the AK47's never ceased. Bullets were hitting the metal body of the car, a deadly popping sound. It seemed to continue forever, until they eventually stopped firing. I peered up over the dashboard and found myself looking back up the hill at the line of cars that had now scattered wildly across the highway, several of them joined nose to tail. A few disoriented people were exiting some of the cars, one, or two covered in blood. I looked backwards between the two front seats, through the shattered rear window, and the Mercedes was about 20 meters away, the doors opening, and men exiting and reloading their rifles.

"Jesus." I whispered at Andre. "Get out of here!"

The Fiesta had stalled and Andre swung the ignition. The engine churned a few times, spluttered once and for a moment, I thought that it had been killed by the bullets, but then it kicked into life suddenly! Andre had sat upright now and turned his head to the rear, slamming the car into reverse. He accelerated quickly towards the oncoming gunmen, a snapping and cracking sound as we drove over our own bumper, which had come loose and rolled beneath the car. I watched from the gap underneath the passenger seat headrest as the gunmen quickly dove to the side to avoid getting run over. Just before we reached the Mercedes Benz, Andre swung the steering wheel around and the Fiesta faced back down the Cuttings again. The oncoming traffic had come to a standstill as most motorists stopped in shock at the massive accident that had just occurred. They were mostly oblivious to the gunmen at that point, who had now reloaded and were running after the Fiesta as Andre forced it between the Mercedes Benz and two oncoming-parked vehicles. We side-swiped one of the parked vehicles but then we were through and moving quickly down the hill, the lane in front of the Mercedes clear for hundreds of meters!

The air cracked around us as bullets whizzed by our ears, many at first but quickly fading to only one or two. I looked around to see the gunmen running back to the Mercedes Benz to give chase. Andre had his foot to the floor, and the 1.6l engine of the Ford was screaming as we hurtled down the dangerous road, swinging wildly into the approaching bends. I could no longer see our followers behind us, as the winding road swallowed them from view.

"Holy crap!" Andre exclaimed as he gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. The wind was roaring through the car from the smashed windows and punctured windscreen, and we had to raise our voices to hear each other. "How did they find us so quickly?"

I shook my head. "You tell me!"

Andre pointed at the dials on the dashboard urgently. "We're heating up. They must have hit the radiator!"

The heat gauge was steadily creeping upwards towards the red line. I cursed silently. We wouldn't get far! I peeped backwards over my shoulder but there was no sign of the chasing Mercedes yet.

"The garage!" I yelled. Pointing down the hill at the bright yellow roof of the Shell Ultra City that had come into view at the bottom of the long straight we were now on. "It's our only hope!"

Andre nodded and forced the Fiesta to give us a few extra kilometers of speed as we descended towards the fuel station. We probably had a fifteen-second head start on the gunmen, so I was certain they were going to see us before we had a chance to pull into the garage. I wasn't wrong as I caught a glimpse of them at the top of the hill behind us, gaining fast!

"We have to split up!" Andre was yelling. "When we stop, we have to split up. I'll take the briefcase - you keep the Eye. We cannot have the two together in one place in case one of us gets caught!"

"Okay." I replied. "Then how are we going to find each other if we get away?"

"We'll meet in Durban. In three days. The Wild Coast Sun gaming room?"

I nodded. We were approaching the entry lane to the garage now, and Andre had started braking. We hurtled into the forecourt at high speed, narrowly avoiding a car that was leaving the garage. Andre steered the Fiesta around the fuel pumps and the mini-mall that had built up over the years consisting of a small shop, restaurant, and a local clothing store. The rear of the building was a truck stop, a large parking area for the long distance haulers that ran between Durban and East London and needed a place to sleep over. There was only one truck parked there currently, and Andre parked behind it, out of view of the road and forecourt. As he switched the engine off a plume of steam erupted from under the hood as the water hoses burst.

"Just in time!" he said as he swung his door open and rushed around to the crushed rear of the vehicle. He reached in through the broken window and pulled out the briefcase. I climbed out as well, a stab of pain in my shoulder. I must have pulled a muscle during the impact – it was painful, but not serious.

"You have the Eye?" he asked, and I nodded, patting my jeans pocket. "Good. I'm going to try to hijack a car. You?"

"On foot." I answered, surveying the area behind the truck stop, where the endless African landscape stretched down into a valley and then up again over the hills of the Cuttings.

"Okay." He said breathlessly. "Be careful, man!"

"You too." I replied and stepped forward, "man-hugging" him quickly. "Three days. Wild Coast Sun!"

He nodded, then turned and ran towards the fuel station, briefcase clutched under his arm. I caught a glimpse of the Mercedes coming down the hill as it was approaching the entrance to the garage. It was going to be a tight call for Andre, I thought, as I turned and leapt over the low barrier that separated the parking area from the wild beyond.

African shrubbery consists mostly of the Doornbos, a small tree that grew like hedging with razor sharp two inch white thorns. As I flailed down the embankment, I could feel the needles piercing and scratching my bare arms, followed by an intense burning sensation. There were several areas in my descent where I had to avoid sharp protruding rocks as they grabbed at my slipping and sliding feet, threatening to send me hurtling face downwards into the red African sand the rest of the way. I managed to survive the treacherous journey intact, aside from the scratched arms and face. As I reached the bottom of the ravine I heard two solitary gunshots from the parking lot above, and my heart skipped a beat. A cold fear overcame me and all sorts of crazy thoughts started spinning through my mind. Had they caught Andre? Had they killed him? I found a second breath as adrenalin kicked in and I started clambering up the embankment on the other side of the ravine to where I could get a view of the garage.

It must have taken only five minutes to get to a point halfway up the higher embankment from where I could see the parking area, but it felt like twenty! I was breathing like a racehorse, the sun had started creeping towards midday, and temperatures were now well over 30 degrees Celsius! I had to shade my eyes with one hand as I looked across the ravine and into the glare of the sun. I could see the Mercedes Benz parked near Jackie's now destroyed Fiesta. Two men were standing between the two cars having a heated debate. The distance was too far to see their faces, but I could tell from their body language that neither one was Andre. Just at that moment another two men rounded the corner of the restaurant building. One of them, a bigger, stockier man, was leading the other one by one arm and holding a gun to his side. Andre stood out immediately, his beard immediately identifiable, followed by a flash of sunlight reflecting off his spectacles. He was led to the waiting Mercedes Benz. One of the two men who were waiting there approached Andre and I could see his arms gesturing wildly as he spoke to him. This man was slightly better dressed that the other three, wearing a two piece grey suit and tie. I could see Andre shaking his head and then the suited man punched him hard in the stomach, bending him over in pain. He leaned down to Andre's level and shouted something. I couldn't see if Andre had responded, but they quickly hoisted him upright and then shoved him into the backseat of the Mercedes.

The three men who remained outside the car shaded their eyes and started scanning the area around the truck stop, including the hills where I was. I looked over to my right and there was a dense section of Doornbos at the edge of an outcrop of rock, which made a good hiding place. I quickly scuttled over and ducked in behind the bush, out of sight of the parking area. I could see the three men through a gap in the foliage as they continued scanning the area for a few moments, before eventually giving up. They had a few short words before they all jumped into the Mercedes Benz and it pulled away, leaving the fuel station and heading back up the Kei Cuttings towards East London. Once they had disappeared over the steep incline and out of sight, I leaned back against the protruding rock face at my back, breathing a sigh of relief.

It was cool in the spot where I was sitting. Sheltered from the burning African sun I decided to hang around there for a while longer. I settled down comfortably in the shade and kept an eye on the comings and goings of travelers as they refueled, shopped, and ate at the small complex on the hill opposite. It was so strange to see the normality happening around me, while my own life was in such turmoil! It had been such a crazy few days for me, and I was starting to lose touch with whom I was! How could everything have turned so upside down in my life? What happened to the geeky Mathematics lecturer, the devoted husband, the predictably boring colleague, and friend? I was dodging bullets these days, jumping through time as if it were second nature, avoiding death at almost every turn! It seemed surreal to me. Here I was hiding away behind a bush in the African wild, a hundred kilometers from my hometown, and my friend had been taken by some foreign bad asses with big guns to who knew where? What would they do to him? Torture seemed like a foreign word. It's not what men like Andre were supposed to endure! He wasn't designed to survive anything even remotely similar!

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the Eye. They had taken Andre and they now had his research! How useful was that going to be to them? Andre had said himself that the manufacture of the Eye had been a fluke. That it would be virtually impossible to exactly simulate the settings and design of it, even with the research! Would these thugs realize that eventually? What happens then? They had come so far and destroyed so many lives in their attempts at owning the power that the Eye represented. It had to be a logical process for them to find the Eye now, no matter what cost. To what ends, would that mean they would go? Where would it ever end?

Moreover, what do I do next? The plan was to meet Andre in Durban in three days time, but that was not going to happen anymore. He had contacts in Mozambique as well, but I had no idea who or where they were. I was also broke. The money was going to come from Kim's life insurance policy. I had no transport, as the Fiesta was totaled, and I was pretty sure the cops were going to be arriving soon anyway after the shooting and everything else that had happened in the last half an hour. Could I even go back to East London again? Once they figured out the research was useless without the Eye they would be hunting me down again! I couldn't risk putting Jackie or Nicole in any more danger than they might already be in, and I definitely couldn't go back to my townhouse either, they would be sure to be watching it! I suddenly realized how truly screwed I was.

With all of my options fading quickly, I began to formulate an idea, which seemed both crazy and simultaneously absolutely the right thing to do. Going forward was no longer an option. There was nothing there for me, and nowhere to go, no immediate solution. The only thing I could possibly do was go back. I had first used the Eye in Andre's office and had come back to it from 2013. It seemed logical then that after using it for the second time at Nicole's place I would go back to that morning again, three months ago, before everything fell apart. Of course, I wasn't sure of anything right now either! For all I knew I could end up back in 2013 again, facing that bullet! The alternative was not trying. The alternative was drifting around the Transkei wilderness for the next few days, probably dying of heat exhaustion or starvation. The Eye seemed like the only option right now.

I played with it for a few moments, rolling its metal weight from one hand to the other, watching the distorted reflection of my face as it moved back and forth. This small silver ball had changed my life, and I wasn't sure it was for the better! It was time to use it wisely! Time to make a change! An old saying came to me, one that I had heard many years ago while still in University.

A ship is safe in the harbor, but that's not what ships are made for.

My harbor right now wasn't any safer than the wild unknown ocean that lay on the other end of the worlds created by the Eye. It was going to be an easy decision, probably the easiest decision of my life.

I stopped rolling the Eye from hand to hand, balancing it instead on my left palm. I placed the thumb and forefinger of my right hand into the twin indentations on the sides of the reflective ball and without hesitation, I pressed them in until I heard the familiar click and tiny jolt of electricity.

This time I was ready for that kaleidoscope of darkness. In fact, I welcomed it.

### Chapter 26

Coming into awareness again was becoming a smoother process. I had a suspicion that my body and mind were getting used to the fading in and out of the different time zones I was visiting in my mind. My mind had begun to adapt to it, in much the same way that repeatedly travelling on a boat or ship would make your legs used to the rocking motion, to the point where getting back on land again would feel weird and unnatural. My mind had found its time legs, it seemed. I faded in much quicker than in any of my previous attempts, and there was less confusion or disorientation with regard to my surroundings. I knew immediately as I slipped out of the darkness and into a new reality that I was back in Nicole's apartment. I was still seated on the couch, holding the Eye in my hands, while she lay sleeping to the side, curled up under one of the throws that had previously covered the couch. I looked up at the hanging wall clock and saw that it was 05h20. I had been gone for twenty-five minutes.

It was Saturday the 3rd of September 2011. I had no doubts about that. I was a hundred percent certain of this fact as I sat on the couch. This gave me a sense of peace, as it was now became clearer how the Eye worked. Jumping forward was apparently quite random, taking me to any point in my future where I was in physical contact with the Eye. Jumping from the future would bring me back to the point from where I had left. It was that simple - a safety rope of sorts that would return me to the starting point every time. The events in downtown East London, at the Royal Hotel, at Jackie's house and in the Kei Cuttings had not yet occurred. They were three months away from happening. Right now Andre would be passed out at his house, oblivious to the fact that in a short while a man would enter his house and...

Kim!

My heart raced at the thought of what was about to happen to Andre's wife. From the story he told me when I had gone forward to December, he said that he had woken at around 6am. That was only 40 minutes away! I had to get over there and stop what was about to happen! I grabbed my socks and shoes from where I had pulled them off earlier and quickly put them on. Nicole was still asleep and for a moment, I considered waking her up and taking her with, but I wasn't prepared to put her in any more danger than what she may already be in. Instead, I pulled the throw until it covered her shoulders, bent down, and kissed her gently on the forehead. She would be so important to me later in my life, and I wish I could have explained that to her, but she was oblivious of everything that was going on right now, and telling her may only distance her from me, as it had done with Jackie. I had to have faith that she would understand my silence.

I picked up my car keys from the coffee table and then quietly headed for the door. It was a simple slam-latch and opened quietly from the inside. I paused for a moment to look back and make sure that Nicole had not woken, and was happy to see that she was still fast asleep. I stepped out through the doorway and gently pulled it closed behind me. I promised myself I would come back later and explain as much as I could to her, but for now, she was better off not knowing where I was headed! My car was parked downstairs and I quickly jogged down to it. Once I was inside, I couldn't help but get a whiff of Nicole's perfume hanging in the air inside. It was a sweet reminder of our encounter last night. I smiled to myself, but it was a shallow smile as the fear of happenings across town hung around the back of my mind like an ugly oil spill. I started the car and then idled my way out of the parking lot and into the deadly quiet street.

I was in awe of the power of the Honda as I accelerated away from Nicole's apartment, heading up from Berea towards Vincent. It was literally only a few minutes' drive away, so I had no doubts that I would make it to his house way before 6am. The roads were quiet, as was to be expected on a weekend morning, so I found myself approaching his house only a short while later. I decided to park out in the street, a few blocks away, just in case they had already arrived at his place. There were a few cars parked in the short road and they all seemed to be covered in the fine morning dew created by the African climate, which indicated to me that they had been there all night and probably belonged to Andre's neighbors. More importantly, there were no black SUV's or Mercedes Benz'!

Andre's white BMW was parked outside his house, where I had left it a few hours earlier. I kept close to the neighbors walls as I approached his house in the dim light of morning. The sun was just coming up so there were enough shadows to hide my creeping figure from inquisitive eyes. There was a narrow alleyway between Andre's house and his direct neighbor, and I slipped into it quickly. It was littered with old grass cuttings and a few trash items, which had been discarded over time and now lay guarding this narrow walkway. The alleyway led past the house and adjacent to his backyard. It was 6-foot wall, but there was an old tire leaning up against it at one point, which I used to hoist myself up and over and into the garden.

From my memories of Andre's backyard, it hadn't changed much at all. I could almost hear the long ago voices and laughter we had once shared around the braai area and pool - myself, Jackie, Andre and Kim. They were ghosts of a lost time, which now haunted my memories. I headed over to the back porch. Andre had added it to the house after he and Kim had bought it, and it made the perfect summer afternoon relaxing spot next to the pool with its thatched roof and large clay tiles. From the porch, a sliding door led into the main house. I knew Andre well enough to know that he would keep the sliding door locked – they had been burgled twice before, but I tried to slide it open anyway just in case he had forgotten this one time. No luck. It was locked and not budging. I was about to head around to the front door and simply knock loud enough to wake them both when I remembered that Andre used to keep a spare key for the porch doors hidden in a pot plant on the porch, for in case Kim locked him out after a drinking binge. I scratched around the several pot plants along the sidewall of the porch and almost shouted with joy when I lifted one and found the silver key underneath it!

The sliding door unlocked easily and it was well oiled so made hardly any sound as I pushed it open big enough to squeeze through. The interior of the house was darker so it took a moment for my eyes to become accustomed. I made my way through the kitchen and into the living room. The bedrooms were down a hall to the right and I headed off in that direction, carefully scanning each room as I passed, on the lookout for the intruder, that I knew would be coming. Everything seemed clear by the time I reached Andre and Kim's bedroom. The door was open a crack and I peered through at the two sleeping forms in the bed. There was the faint smell of alcohol in the air, probably sweated out by Andre as he slept. He was snoring softly. I pushed the door a bit wider open and it creaked softly, causing Kim to shift in her bed. I stood dead still for a few moments until I was certain she was still sleeping before I entered the room.

The bathroom was opposite the foot of the bed and I made my way over to it, peering inside. It was clear. I could see the digital radio clock on Kim's bedside flashing the time in bold green numbers: 05h50. In ten minutes Andre would be getting up to use the toilet, and the Russian would be here by then. I surveyed the bedroom to find a decent hiding spot. There were thick heavy curtains draped over the windows in the bedroom on Kim's side of the bed, thick enough to hide the shape of a man behind them, so I headed off and quickly hid behind them. My breathing came back at me as my face pressed against them, unnaturally loud. I tried to slow it down, but even the sound of my heart beating in my chest appeared to be loud enough to wake the neighbors! I stood perfectly still and waited.

The funny thing about time is that when you are waiting for something it seems to go extremely slowly. It's all relative, of course, but in my little hiding place, I was finding it difficult not to start humming a tune just to move the time on a little faster. I kept quiet though and just listened. Behind me, the sounds of birds chirping in the tree outside the window were a deceptive distraction for what was about to happen inside the house. On the other side of the curtains, I could hear Andre's light snoring. It seemed I had been standing there for ages before I finally heard the sound.

The creaking of the bedroom door as it was pushed open.

My heartbeat increased in tempo as I felt that familiar surge of adrenalin and fear course through my body.

He was here.

With nothing for my eyes to see, my ears were acutely tuned in to the sounds around me. I could clearly hear the shuffle of his feet as he slowly crossed the carpeted floor towards the window where I was hiding. He stopped before reaching me, though, and then turned to his left towards the head of the bed where Kim was laying. I could hear his breathing, the rasping sound of a heavy smoker, and I could smell the nicotine on him. There was a bumping sound, as he must have knocked his foot on the bedside table next to Kim. Andre must have heard it too; because I heard the sheets rustle as he turned over in the bed, moaning softly. There was a loud sigh as Andre obviously woke up, realizing he needed the toilet. I heard the mattress creak as he swung his legs over it and then the uneven stomping of his feet as he crossed the room and entered the bathroom, oblivious at this point of the intruder only a few feet away from him in the dim room. From the bathroom came the sounds of his urinating, a long and continuous drone of liquid on liquid. When he was done there, I heard the tap in the bathroom run briefly, the splashing of water on his face, and then the footsteps returning to the bedroom and stopping suddenly.

"What the fuck!" Andre gasped.

I could hear the Russian say "Ssshhhh." and then Andre's footsteps into the room and the squeaking of the chair on his side of the bed as he sat down. I then heard the mattress creaking as the Russian sat down on the bed next to Kim, and then the rustle of her nightclothes as he lifted her up into a seating position. She moaned slightly as she started waking up and then a semi-scream as she realized what was happening, which was stifled by the Russian's hand.

"Keep calm, baby" Andre was saying. "Just keep calm!"

Kim was struggling against the Russian now, and I could hear him increase his grip on her, causing her to moan and then quieting down slightly.

"I'm going to ask you for something." I could hear the Russian say, his accent thick, and his voice very deep. "You will have one opportunity to give it to me. If you do not or cannot give me what I am looking for, I will snap her neck. No second chances. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Andre said. "Anything. Just please don't hurt her!" I could hear the terror in his voice.

"You have been working on a project at the University. A project involving time-travel. I need all the research you have done, as well as the unit, which you call the KPPS. Everything. I need it right now. Do you have it?"

I realized that when Andre gave his answer to this man, he was not going to hesitate in snapping Kim's neck. There was no time left for me to strategize or plan. I had only one advantage, and that was the element of surprise! The Russian was comfortable that he was alone in the room with Andre and Kim; he would not be expecting an attack from the side! I took one deep breath, poised myself, then yanked the curtain aside with my left hand and charged out into the bedroom, screaming like a Banshee!

### Chapter 27

I was right about the element of surprise, as the Russian jerked his head around to the left to see me charging down on him, screaming wildly. He had relaxed his grip on Kim's neck, and the other hand, which had been holding the rifle pointing at Andre, was now swinging in my direction. I had pulled my right arm all the way back, fist clenched, and now swung it forward with all my might, hitting the Russian squarely on the side of his face. It hurt like hell! My hand felt as if it had just been crushed by a cement block, but I could also tell that it had done what was required. The Russian's head rocked sideways, the rifle dropping from his hands as he toppled past Kim and onto the bed. As his grip on her relaxed she leapt off the bed to where Andre was seated, his mouth still open in shock, just as surprised as the Russian was that I had appeared from behind the curtains.

The Russian wasn't knocked out, and he was starting to sit up straight now. My surprise advantage was gone just as suddenly as it had come. Now it was just scrawny old me versus this mountain of a man. I felt a bit like David taking on an extremely pissed off Goliath. The Russian immediately began reaching for the fallen rifle, but I kicked it away towards the foot of the bed. He lunged forward, grabbing me around the midriff and lifting me off the ground, running several steps with me until my back met the wall. The wind was immediately knocked out of me, and I was sure I was going to pass out! The sensation passed quickly though, and I spread my arms and slapped the big guy on both ears at the same time. This was a trick I had seen in a movie once, but it must have been based on reality, because the Russian dropped me immediately, clutching his ears with both hands, and screaming in pain.

I took a step backwards, grabbed his bowed head by the hair with both hands, and then raised my knee into his face with all the strength I could muster. There was a crunching sound as his nose broke and a spray of blood, which splattered onto the floor and my pants. As his head came up from the blow, I formed an arc with the thumb and forefinger of my right hand and smashed it as hard as I could into his exposed throat. This must have crushed his larynx, as he immediately dropped to the floor, hands around his throat, gasping for breath. His eyes were wild and looking up at me in utter desperation and fear. For a moment, I felt a pang of regret and almost bent down to assist the Russian, but then Jackie's blue strangled face came to mind and I took a step backwards instead, watching as the Russian suffocated slowly, until he stopped moving.

It only took a few minutes. By the time it was over there was a deathly silence in the room. I was panting heavily from all the exertion and I turned to look at where Andre and Kim were still seated on the chair, Kim in Andre's lap.

"Are you guys okay?" I asked.

Andre swallowed twice. "Jesus, Lionel!" he said. "How did you..."

Kim had started crying by this time, and Andre pulled her in closer to him, holding her tightly. As I watched them consoling each other, I couldn't help but feel a surge of elation. Coming back here from December had allowed me to stop a terrible thing from happening, and perhaps change the future! It was a momentous revelation for me, as it was the one question I had not been able to answer up to this point! I had saved Kim's life! I had given her and Andre a second chance at happiness! I couldn't help but smile broadly, and when Andre saw this, he frowned.

"What the hell are you smiling about?" he asked. "And what the hell are you doing in my house at six in the morning? And who the hell was this asshole?"

"It's a long story." I replied. "But for right now, you have to trust me." I looked at Kim. "Do you have somewhere you can stay? For a few weeks? It will be safer."

The couple looked at each other, and I could see the confusion on their faces. "What do you mean?" Andre asked. " Are you crazy?"

"This man," I said, pointing at the dead Russian, "came here to kill you today, Kim, and he would probably have killed you in the long run as well, Andre. He is not alone. He works for Viktor – I told you about him, right Andre?"

Andre nodded.

"So anyway," I continued, "Viktor has an army of these maniacs, and he wants what we've got, Andre. And he is not going to stop until he gets it."

"You mean the Eye?" Andre asked. "How could they even know about it? You and I are the only two who know what it does!"

"Are we?" I asked. "Who helped you with the research at the University? Who helped with the design of the Eye?"

"What is he talking about?" Kim asked, and Andre held up his hand.

"Not now, honey. I'll explain later." He looked at me. "A lot of people helped, I guess, but they were all doing small sections of it. Not one person had access to everything."

"Well, we may never figure that part out," I replied. "What's important is that somehow this Viktor guy found out about it. Now he wants it for himself. At whatever cost!"

"Okay." Andre nodded. "So how did you know he would be sending someone here this morning?"

"I used the Eye last night." I said, and I could see Andre's face turning red.

"Why, man..." he started moaning, but I held up my hand.

"Using the Eye saved Kim's life." I said. "I travelled three month's into the future, and Kim was already dead. You told me what would happen this morning, so I came back to stop it!"

"The future?" I noticed the confusion on Kim's face as she turned a pale white color. The shock of the intruder, followed by me jumping out from behind the curtains, and now us talking about time travel must have been too much for her, and I could see she was ready to pass out. I reached out quickly and grabbed her face with both hands, looking into her quivering eyes.

"I know we have had our differences." I said softly. "But aside from anything that ever happened between Jackie and me, you need to understand that I still care deeply for both you and Andre! I could never let anyone hurt either of you! You have to trust me now, and be strong!"

She blinked and then nodded, a little of the color returning to her face. "Okay."

I turned to Andre. "Things are about to get a lot worse, man! You have to get Kim packed and out of here, as far away as possible. Does she have family anywhere out of town?"

Andre nodded. "Yes, a sister in Lichtenburg up in northern Gauteng. It's in the middle of nowhere. She will be safe there." He looked at Kim and she nodded.

"Okay." I said. "Then get her packed. Get her on a plane today. Where is your research?"

"At the University." Andre replied.

"Great. From the airport, that's where we are headed." I said. "Who wants coffee?"

They both nodded in unison.

"Get packing." I said as I headed for the kitchen.

As I prepared the cups and boiled the kettle, I could hear the two of them throwing items around in the bedroom. By the time I had the coffee ready they both came through to the kitchen. Andre was carrying a large suitcase, while Kim carried a smaller one. They set the suitcases down in the living room near the door and then came over to sit at the kitchen counter.

Andre sipped his coffee. "What about this guy in the bedroom?"

I shrugged. "I'm not sure. Do we call the police?"

"So they can arrest you for murder?" He asked sarcastically.

"It was self-defense." I replied angrily.

"We both know that." Andre replied. "But do you think it's going to be as simple as explaining that to the police? They will have to take you in, at least for 48 hours."

"I'll be a sitting duck." I said. "That's not an option."

Andre nodded. "Well we can't leave him there, can we?"

"No." I said, looking at the wall clock above the stove. It was almost 6:30am. "It's still early. He must have got here in a car, right?"

Andre stood up and peered out the living room window. After a moment, he said. "There is a black SUV parked two houses down. I don't recognize it. Did you see it when you came in this morning?"

I shook my head. "No. It wasn't there. Does it look like there is anyone in it still?"

"No. Not that I can see."

I stood up and left the kitchen, heading for the bedroom. The Russian was still lying in the same position on the floor between the bed and the window, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. I bent over him and felt all his pockets. In one of the side pockets on his pants, I felt a metal object through the material. I stuck my hand in and pulled out a set of car keys with a Land Rover key ring. I headed back to the kitchen, jingling the keys.

"Got them!"

"So what's the plan then?" Andre asked.

I shrugged. "You help me get him into his car, then you and Kim head for the airport. I will park the car somewhere in a shady part of town, and you pick me up afterwards?"

"Sounds good enough." Andre said.

I nodded and downed the rest of my coffee. Andre followed me to the bedroom when he was done and we paused over the body of the Russian. He was a huge man, probably weighing in excess of one hundred kilograms! I grabbed him under the arms while Andre took his legs, and we managed, with some effort, to move him into the living room, dropping him at the front door. Andre took the keys to the Land Rover and reversed it up into the driveway. It was still early and the quiet street was deserted, while the neighbor's high walls protected us from any prying eyes as we dragged and carried the Russian across the front lawn to the car. Getting him into the passenger seat was no easy task either but after a few moments, and with both of us gasping for breath afterwards, he was in his seat and buckled in. Andre ran into the house quickly and returned with a damp cloth soaked in bleach and the AK-47 rifle.

"What's the cloth for?" I asked.

"Fingerprints." He said. After he had wiped down the door handles and the gun, he tossed the gun and the cloth onto the backseat of the Land Rover. "When you dump the car, be sure to wipe off the steering wheel and gear lever, and then take the cloth with you."

"Okay." I replied as we swopped keys. "Meet me at the Wimpy in Oxford Street when you are done at the airport then. Take my car."

He nodded and then headed for the house to fetch Kim. Halfway to the door, and as I was heading around to the driver's side of the Land Rover, he stopped and called out to me. I turned to look at him.

"Thank you." He said. "For everything..."

I smiled and nodded. He smiled as well, then turned and headed into the house. I climbed into the SUV and as I inserted the key into the ignition and fired up the engine, I couldn't help but notice the overwhelming sense of déjà vu. I would be driving this very same Land Rover in a few years again, except at that point I would be driving away for my life, away from a dead Nicole. As I pulled out of the driveway and headed off towards downtown with my silent passenger, it felt good just to be driving towards something for once!

### Chapter 28

Close to downtown central East London there is an abandoned car park, surrounded by high bushes with weeds pushing through the concrete. It is protected from the sight of motorists by a rusted old fence, which had grown a jacket of creeping weeds and vines over the years. It was mostly used by learner drivers during the day and at night as a "safe" place for the prostitutes who patrolled the street corners on Oxford Street to take their johns for business. I arrived there in the in-between period, after the hookers had already gone home, and before the young drivers would arrive with their fathers or instructors. As I pulled into the parking lot, I did a slow drive around the perimeter, making sure that I was completely alone. There were several tall buildings to either side of the parking lot, but these were offices and business premises. It was too early for anyone to be there watching from the hundreds of windows reflecting the sunrise back at me. Even if there was somebody, what were they going to see besides a man who was parking a black SUV and then leaving again which was nothing out of the ordinary?

Confident that I was alone in the parking lot, I picked a spot away from the makeshift poles which driving instructors had set up to guide young drivers as they parallel parked or reverse parked, and far enough from the entrance to the parking area to avoid any urgent attention from passing motorists or thieves. I used the bleach cloth to wipe down the steering wheel, handbrake, gear lever, keys, and door handles, and then shoved it in my pocket. The rifle was still lying on the backseat, and I was concerned that the wrong person might get their hands on it, but I decided to take that risk. I couldn't exactly be seen carrying an assault rifle through town, now could I! I undid the Russian's seat belt from the driver's side, and then pulled on his shoulder to let him lie down across both seats. I left the keys in the ignition and then closed and locked the driver's door.

The South African Police Service was nowhere near the quality of American or British crime agencies, and with the high levels of violent crime, drugs, gangsters and corruption, this case would run into a dead end eventually, and would probably end up being written off to any of the above. I made my way on foot through the parking lot, down an alleyway between two of the high-rise office complexes and out into Oxford Street. I was about four blocks from the Wimpy where I would meet Andre later and the walk in the crisp morning air was actually rather pleasant. The main road was getting busy now as 8am was approaching, and I was just another anonymous pale face in a shallow sea of dark shoppers.

As I walked, I started to wonder what the next plan of action for Andre and I would be. Things in the future were not looking bright for us at all and now that I had managed to change the way things were currently happening, and based on what I had seen in my journeys to the days beyond, I had to believe that none of what I had already seen was set in stone. If I could save Kim's life, then what stopped me from saving both Jackie and Nicole's? It would be as simple as convincing them to leave the city, to move somewhere else. Well, I say simple, but I knew that wasn't the case. Jackie didn't even want to speak to me right now, and Nicole hardly knew me at all, as we had only really met the night before. No, the only way to really ensure we changed the events to come was to destroy the Eye. Andre would never go for that, though. It was his coup de grace, his Nobel Prize, his reputation as a Scientist. Yes, there was merit in the good applications that the Eye could be used for; even I had to admit that, and it was the world's first real time machine, for Christ's sakes! Destroying it would never be an option for Andre, and he would never forgive me if I did it behind his back.

When I reached the Wimpy it was already open, and the fresh aroma of famous Wimpy coffee and bacon wafted through the front door as I entered. I picked a seat in the almost empty restaurant near the back, next to the roof high windows, which faced out onto Oxford Street and City Hall. I recognized the manager immediately, a slightly overweight and balding white guy, and he smiled and greeted me from behind the counter. Little did he realize that one day Andre and I would be running through here and that he would be the recipient of Andre's fist as he tried to get in our way. I ordered a breakfast from the bored looking waitress and she bought me the complimentary coffee, which came with it. As I sipped on it, I watched the passers-by on the pavement outside. There were moms dragging their unwilling children from store to store, and street vendors plying their trade, from fake leather belts to Made in China watches, wallets and cell phone covers. Here and there, the odd deliveryman as he scurried past with a parcel or in some cases a trolley loaded with goods. White folk, black folk, colored folk, Indian folk... a truly diverse crowd of strangers who interacted and co-existed. This was the new South Africa - far away from the days of Apartheid and strife. At peace on the outside, but at war with itself on the inside as unemployment figures were at their highest rate ever, crimes were out of control, politicians were making underhand tender deals, international sports stars were murdering their lovers, and the sensible ones were emigrating to other, safer countries such as Australia, the United Kingdom and New Zealand.

South Africa was probably the most beautiful country in the world, with its huge Nature Reserves, beautiful beaches and fantastic history, but it was being ruined by the greedy and power hungry politicians. The one or two who had morals in the National Assembly were powerless against a regime which thrived on backhanded deals and broken promises. For many of those who left their land of birth it was always a deep rooted love for this land that kept them up at night in their newfound homes across oceans. If there was ever a country where the Eye could make a huge improvement for the diverse rainbow population it was South Africa. AIDS and HIV were rife. Millions were dying of starvation. Thirty percent of the population was homeless or living below the poverty line. Imagine the power of being able to place the right person in the seat of the President? Imagine the difference a cure to AIDS would bring about? Those were the hopes of people like Andre and me... a universal application of the Eye, which would benefit humanity in general. Others, like the mysterious Viktor, had less noble intentions for it, I was sure. For them it was about money and power. This is why they were already after it like a pack of thirsty bloodhounds. The man who has control of the future controls the world. It was a scary thought!

My thoughts were interrupted as someone tapped me on the shoulder. Andre slid into the seat opposite me. His eyes were red and swollen and I could imagine that it must have been difficult for him to send his wife off to a town more than a thousand kilometers away, with little explanation.

"How is Kim?" I asked as I ordered a second breakfast from our sleep-walking waitress.

"She's confused." He replied, smiling weakly. "But alive."

"Did you have any problems getting a flight on such short notice?" I asked.

"No. It just cost the earth. Her sister will pick her up at the airport in Johannesburg." He paused as the waitress served our breakfasts then added. " What are we going to do now?"

"We have to fetch your research." I said. "It appears that your little project has attracted huge attention from the Russians or some local representative of theirs. I can only imagine that it won't be long before other nations jump on the bandwagon as well. The Americans, Japanese. Who knows?"

"That's so crazy!" Andre exclaimed. "How did this all happen so fast? We've only tested the Eye one time officially! And already the wolves are circling?"

"I think Viktor's had his eye..."I raised my own eyebrow at the pun which was not intended, "... on you for some time. Someone in your department must have leaked out what your intentions were. They were just waiting for you to successfully use it before they decided you had done enough and it was time for them to take over. The Eye is probably the most significant invention in the history of humanity. It wasn't going to stay a secret for long!"

Andre laughed. "I wasn't even trying to keep it a secret at first! I wasn't expecting it to work at all! It was just a side hobby I started as a joke to keep myself busy."

We sat in silence for a few minutes as we finished up our breakfasts. I was starved and couldn't get the food down fast enough. By the time I finished I was feeling a lot better.

"Okay." Andre said between mouthfuls, "So we collect all the research from the University, we back up my computer data, we delete the old files... and then? What happens next?"

"We need to find a safe place to continue working on it." I replied. "There has to be a way to control the jumps. There are so many things that we need to fix before we can even begin to think about passing it on to the relevant authority. Up to now, it's been completely random. Two and a half years on the first jump, and then three months on the second. Both times, I've returned to this point in time, but going forward is the problem. What we managed to figure out after my last jump was that I needed to be in contact with the Eye in the future. If I'm not physically touching it I can't go there – does that mean anything to you?"

Andre nodded slowly. "Yes, yes... that does make some sense! It relates somehow to the common object theory... your mind needing a familiar object to 'ground' itself in reality. The Eye not only acts as the transporter, but also as the anchor! Wow, okay! Of course, that has its own challenges..."

I smiled. "There's that déjà vu again, exactly what you are going to say in the future!"

Andre chuckled. "Ironic, isn't it? This all started with my fascination with déjà vu, and now it's everywhere!"

"Do you think you could make some alterations to the Eye without completely destroying what it can do?"

"Yes, possibly. Based on the common object theory... it may be possible to link the future mind to those memories of when it holds the Eye in the future, and to direct it in that direction. But it will take time to work out completely."

"Time is all we have, just not enough of it." I replied, and the solemn promise those words held struck a chord that ran chills down my spine.

### Chapter 29

With our stomachs filled, Andre and I made the trip to Fort Hare University. The place was deserted on a weekend, only the security officers from Emsky Security and a few admin staff were around as we drove through the gate and parked in the empty parking lot near the Science labs. Andre led the way through to his classroom, and immediately sat at his desk behind the laptop. He had brought an external flash disk with him, and proceeded to download the data for his experiments around the Kindling Photic-inducing Polaric Seizure model. While he worked, I hung around to the side of the classroom, near the windows that faced the security gate and office. I wasn't entirely convinced that killing the Russian assassin had resolved any of our issues, not based on what I had already seen when it came to the tenacity of Viktor, so I chose to keep an eye on the comings and goings of the campus.

"Who do you think this Viktor guy is?" I asked Andre as he worked.

He shrugged. "No idea. His hit man was Russian, so I guess that makes him some sort of Russian mafia boss, I guess? What do you know about him – from your travels, that is?"

"Not much." I replied. "He has a small army working for him. When I was at the hospital in 2013, there were at least four men after me, and again at Jackie's place. Back at Nicole's place, there were at least eight of them. I never met him personally though. I saw him from a distance for a moment when they..."

Andre looked up as I paused. "When they what?"

"Well, when they take you three months from now." I finished. "He was driving a Mercedes and they ambushed us on the Kei Cuttings."

"Hmm." Andre said. "That's motivating. So we actually know very little about him? We might need to change that if we want to get the upper hand."

"How are we going to do that?" I asked.

"Well, for now we can assume that Viktor hasn't amassed his army of Russian hit men yet. At this point, he is just curious about the Eye and what we have achieved with it, right? I mean he only sent one guy to my house this morning."

I nodded.

"Okay, so then we have the advantage right now. You have seen the future, and you have experienced the level of Viktor's commitment to obtaining the Eye. He doesn't know that! We need to find out as much as we can about him before he becomes aware that we have turned the hunt around and goes into hiding."

"We don't have much to go on." I said sarcastically. "Just a first name."

"Not necessarily!" Andre smiled. "We also have this..." he pulled out a piece of paper from his shirt pocket and waved it in the air.

"What is that?"

"The registration number of the Land Rover the Russian was driving this morning. It has to be registered to somebody, right?"

I beamed with delight. "Very clever!"

"I have an old friend in the Police Force up in Vanderbijlpark in Gauteng who served with me when I was in the military back in 1987. We still keep in touch. I'll ask him if he can run it for us."

"Great!"

Andre had finished downloading the data from his laptop by now, and unplugged the external flash disk, shoving it into the briefcase on his desk. We left the lab building and headed over to his office. Once we were there, he quickly removed two or three green folders from his locked filing cabinet and added them to the contents in the briefcase. He handed it to me.

"I think that's everything." He said. "Well, everything important."

I sat on his leather sofa as he picked up the phone at his desk and dialed out. He spoke briefly to someone on the other end of the line for a few minutes, finally reading out the registration number to him before hanging up again.

"What does he say?" I asked.

"He will phone me back in ten minutes."

Andre filled his pipe with Rum and Maple tobacco, and put his feet up on the desk as he puffed away. The room started filling up with the sweet and familiar smell, twirls of grey smoke curling up through the air.

"That stuff will kill you eventually." I said.

He chuckled. "So will bullets from an AK-47, apparently. I choose the slower death."

I laughed and shook my head. I guess I couldn't blame him for being cynical, not after the sacrifices he had already made in protecting his family.

It was less than five minutes that passed before the phone rang on his desk. He picked it up quickly, grabbed a pen, and made some notes. After thanking his friend, he hung up.

"Well?" I asked anxiously.

"A bit of a dead end, unfortunately." He replied. "The Land Rover is registered to a company by the name of Smart Fish. They import and export Hake from Namibia. Offices based in Port Elizabeth. The vehicle was reported stolen this morning."

"Damn!"

"I know. We are no closer to finding out who this Viktor is than we were ten minutes ago and it appears we may never find out!"

The frustration had started building up in me. I was so tired of not knowing what was going on, of being surprised around every bend with new happenings and more questions! Andre was a hundred percent correct when he said that we needed an advantage over Viktor, an edge. However, it seemed the man was a ghost - an unseen enemy. Unless...

"There is one way..." I said softly, and Andre looked up in confusion at me through the cloud of pipe tobacco smoke.

"And that is?"

"We are holding the power in our hands." I said. "There is nothing in this world we could not be able to find out about if we use it properly."

"What are you talking about?"

"The Eye." I said. "We could use it again. Go into the future. Find out who this Viktor is, and how deep his claws go..."

"No!" Andre slammed his hand on the desk. "No! No! No!"

"Think about it!" I stood up now and leaned over the desk. "If I go forward in time I could get all the information you've already gathered over the next... however long! I memorize that information and I come back to the here and now with it. All of a sudden, we are super-informed! The last two jumps have been random and unplanned. This time there will be a purpose! A mission!"

"It could also get you killed!" Andre exclaimed. " You know how I feel about running with the Eye before we have enough test data!"

"What other choice do we have?" I asked. "What are we going to do in the meantime? We are two blind mice. Do we just wait around until the hawk pounces and snatches one or both of us up? Do we run frightened? Where to, and for how long? That is not an option! We have to act, not react!"

Andre was quiet for a while. I could tell that he was processing our options in his mind. To be honest I was expecting him to stick to his guns and not give in, so I was quite surprised when he finally snubbed out his pipe, stood up, and headed for the door. "Okay."

"Are you serious?" I asked.

"You may be right." He said. "This may be the only way. But we do it on my terms, in a controlled environment!"

"It's a deal!" I said.

"Bring the Eye." He said, as he left the office carrying his briefcase of data.

I followed him back to the Science Lab. He pulled out a stretcher from a storage section under one of the counter tops and proceeded to set it up. He left the room briefly, returning with a CT scan monitor on a trolley. He set the machine up and gestured for me to lie down on the stretcher. I removed my shirt and lay down. He placed new monitor pads across my abdomen, on my ankles and wrists, and two on my temples. They were ice cold against my skin. He turned the machine on and tested the small green monitor to make sure it was working, then loaded paper into the feeder. He then set up a blood-pressure monitor as well. He grabbed a digital voice recorder from his desk and then took his seat in front of the stretcher where I lay.

"If you insist on using the Eye again I want to record every moment of it. I need to know in detail what your body is doing while your mind is travelling." He said.

I nodded and breathed deeply. The Eye was in my right hand, its solid weight a comforting pressure in my palm.

"Make sure you bring back something useful." Andre said then patted me on the shoulder. He picked up the voice recorder and pressed record. "The time is 09h45, Saturday the 3rd of September 2011. Subject departing now."

I closed my eyes and traced my fingers over the indentations on the Eye. I knew what to expect this time, and I was ready for it. Without any hesitation, I pressed down on the two little switches that would begin the process of sending my consciousness into a future time. After the initial period of slow motion effects, and as I floated through the darkness, approaching the familiar shape of the imaginary Eye, I couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. Around me, the world that was 2011 was fading into a distant oblivion, and for the briefest moment, the two realities were becoming one, leaving me increasingly uncertain about which one I actually belonged to.

### Chapter 30

The darkness slowly faded into a bright glare. I could feel the air temperature changing as well, from the coolness of the Science Lab to a humid, almost unbearably warm environment, the weight of the air a physical sensation on my skin. I soon realized that I was sweating. I could feel the warm drops as they ran down my face, over my back and from under my arms. As my eyes focused into the new light, I could see a row of metal objects, lined up like soldiers in front of me. I was seated and as the floor came into view, I could see white tiles spread out below my bare feet, an open sports bag next to me, and the familiar sight of the Eye in my right hand. The metal objects a distance in front of me soon became clearly visible as metal lockers. I was wearing only a pair of white shorts. The most immediate observation as I looked down at my legs and bare torso was the change in muscle tone. My calves and thighs were more shaped and defined, I had a the beginnings of a six pack stomach, for the first time since I could remember, which was somewhere around 1992 when I was still in the military service for my compulsory year of service. The pectoral muscles of my chest were bulging out slightly; beautifully-formed domes of hard muscle. My biceps were also much fuller and stretching against the skin of my arms. For a moment I wasn't sure I was even looking at my own body!

I checked my lower abdomen to see if I could see any scars, perhaps from the knife wound I suffered in 2013, but there was nothing there. That meant the Eye had brought me to a time before those four days, but when exactly? I looked around the room. It was some sort of locker or change room. There were high windows to my left and sunlight was streaming through them. There was the sound of running water and the room was filled with steam. I could just make out the shape of a person in one of the open shower stalls to the right. He was humming as he washed his hair. As I turned my head to look behind me, I spotted a notice board. I stood up and walked over to it. Most of the sheets of paper stuck to the board had the same letterhead: BAD BOY MMA, with a logo consisting of two angry cartoon eyes above a bare punching fist. There were several notices concerning training schedules, and a couple with match dates and a list of names. I was even more surprised to see my name on one of the lists indicating that I would be in an event on the 28th March 2012. The memo was dated the 14th March 2012.

That meant I was somewhere in March 2012. Six months away from where I had left Andre at the lab! The month and year was ringing a bell for me, but I couldn't quite place it. As I tried to rack my brain, I was hit by a soft object on the back of my head. I grabbed it quickly before it fell to the floor and discovered it was a damp white bath towel.

"You're losing your touch, old man." A voice said behind me, and I turned to see the person who had been showering earlier was now standing in front of one of the lockers, completely naked. He was young, somewhere in his twenties I guessed, and in excellent shape. He had bulging arms and chest muscles, and was well tanned and lean. His hair was cut short, box style, and he had startling green eyes and a prominent jaw line. He started dressing in front of me, and I was a little surprised to see him pull out a long white lab coat from his locker.

He turned to look at me now, and frowned. "What's that?" he asked, gesturing at my hands. I looked down at the familiar shape of the Eye where it rested in my right hand.

"Oh," I muttered. "It's nothing. Just a sentimental gift"

"Okay." He shrugged. "So are you ready for your fight on Saturday?"

Fight? On Saturday? That meant I was in the week of the 28th March, and apparently I was in a fight this weekend! "Um, no. Not really. In fact, not at all."

"Bullshit!" the stranger exclaimed and laughed. "You've been ripping it up in the cage the last few weeks!"

The cage? I had no idea what he was talking about! "Yeah, I'm not even sure I'm going to make it."

"What!" He angrily dropped the shoes he was about to put on and marched over to stand right in front of me. He was at least a foot taller than I was and had to bend slightly to get his face inches away from my own. I was eye level with his lab coat, and I could see his surname stitched across the left breast, Cooper. "You'd better be messing with me, Lionel! The last three months of training six hours a day, has not been for nothing! Remember what you told me when you first joined the club?"

I shook my head. I really didn't. Not even a bit.

"You said to me, Donovan, I need to get into the best shape of my life and I need to kick some ass. And do you remember what I said back to you?"

I shook my head again. Still no clue, but at least I knew his name now - Donovan Cooper.

"I said I could help you get into shape, but the kicking ass part had to come from inside yourself!" he poked me in the chest. "Do you remember that?"

"Yes." I lied. "I do."

"Okay then!" He spun around and returned to his locker. "So prove it!"

"So..." I said, as I returned to the bench where I had been seated earlier and picked up the sports back that had been lying at my feet. "It's been three months already? Wow, time flies."

"You're telling me!" Donovan said as he pulled his shoes onto his feet. "I wish I wasn't working tonight, man! We are so far behind on test results so I have to cover this extra shift. I still owe you that beer; how about tomorrow?"

"Sure," I replied. "Why not."

"The usual place?" he asked as he stood up and removed something from his locker.

"Which is where again?" I asked.

"You're such a wanker, Lionel." He laughed. "If it wasn't for the fact that you are old enough to be my father I would have knocked you out a long time ago! Bernie's, of course!"

I chuckled. "Sure. The one in Cambridge?"

Donovan turned and stared at me, a confused expression on his face. "The one in Cambridge closed down two months ago, brother! You know that!"

"Right." I said. "Of course. Sorry man, just a bit out of it today. The Bernie's in Vincent it is, then."

"Out of it? You could have fooled me! You were a machine on the mat today! Maybe you took a knock on the head."

I smiled. "Yes. That could be it."

"So around 7:00pm? But we have to take it easy; you're in the ring on Saturday!"

I nodded. Donovan had finished dressing by now, and was pulling on a blue windbreaker, over his lab coat. The name in big white letters on the back of the windbreaker said, St Dominic's.

"So what exactly did you say you did for a living again?" I asked.

Donovan chuckled. "Damn you have a short memory! I told you I'm a lab tech at St Dominic's Hospital! Hey man, I've got to run!"

We shook hands as old friends would and then he left, grabbing his kit bag and heading for the door.

"See you tomorrow, bud." He yelled as he exited the locker room, leaving me to myself.

I emptied out the sports bag. It contained a fresh towel, a pair of jeans, t-shirt, sandals, my black leather wallet, and a set of keys. I recognized the Honda key ring immediately and was surprisingly grateful for that small piece of familiarity. I placed the Eye into the bag, along with the rest of the items and the shorts I was wearing. I took the towel with me and headed for the showers. The water was scorching hot and refreshing. I must have spent at least ten minutes under the stream of water, soaking in the warmth of it. By the time I finally turned the water off I was feeling better than I had in days, or at least, in my version of days. I pulled on the jeans and t-shirt, shoved the wallet in my back pocket, and the towel back into the bag. I zipped it up and slung it over my shoulder. It was time to track Andre down!

As I walked through the door from the locker room, the first thing that struck me was the amount of noise on the other side. The gym was a converted warehouse or something, and stretched at least fifty meters long. All sorts of exercise equipment was scattered throughout the open space, from punching bags, to rowing machines and treadmills. There were fighters everywhere. Some training, some on the gym equipment, a couple in sparring rings around the floor. In the center of the room was a large caged boxing ring, hexagonal in shape, and surrounded by wire meshing. That must be the cage Donovan had been speaking about. I had seen them on television a few times before. This type of fighting was called Mixed Martial Arts or MMA for short. It was a full contact sport, which allowed fighters to utilize skills in both standing and grappling combat. I could hardly believe that I was not only learning this sport, but also competing in it! It was brutal and violent, even though it was strictly controlled by the regulators, and the fighters who made a name for themselves were feared and respected worldwide.

As I made my way through the gym, it occurred to me that learning this style of combat had probably assisted me when I had needed to disarm Constable Pauli in the hospital room at St Dominic's on my first jump to 2013. Was that one of the reasons I had joined here, so that I could defend myself from Viktor and his goons? It started making sense that I had been preparing for those days that were yet to come this whole time, knowing what I knew was going to happen! I was greeted by several of the fighters as I walked through to the exit door. I seemed to be rather well known here, even respected to a degree, and that surprised me even more! If they only knew what a geek I really was, or used to be! They would probably fall on their backs!

Outside in the sunlight I could tell that it was mid afternoon. The sun was baking down on the pavement, but a strong wind was also blowing. It was March, which was the windy month as the seasons started changing from summer to autumn. I recognized the area I was in immediately. When Jackie and I were still dating, I lived in a small garden flat only a few blocks from here! This was Greenfields, a suburb only a few kilometers from the airport. The gym was in the same spot where the old Greenfields Fire Station had been several years back. Due to budget cuts, the satellite station had been shut down, and all emergencies were handled from the central branch near downtown instead. The building had stood empty for a long time, and it was good to see it getting some life again!

I spotted the Honda Type R parked a few spots up the road. As I walked to it I noticed how much more energy I seemed to have, and how much lighter my body felt. Now that I was in shape, it was clear how unfit I used to be! Carrying those excess kilograms around all day couldn't have been fun! This was much more sensible! I popped the trunk and tossed the sports bag into it. As I climbed in to the driver's seat and started the engine, I suddenly realized just how difficult it was becoming adapting to a new time zone every time I used the Eye. I was beginning to get lost in my own reality. Having to figure out the year and month each time, having to remember what has already happened, and what was still going to happen, and trying not to get confused by it all, was mentally draining. My body was in perfect condition, I just wish I could say the same about my mind. I had developed a mild headache by now and I could understand why. I shrugged it off though as I reversed out of the parking spot.

There were much more important things to worry about other than the side effects of time travelling. I needed to get hold of Andre and find out what information we had gathered on Viktor over the past six months, so that I could go back and use it in 2011 to give us a head start. Knowing the enemy was the first thing you had to learn in a war... it could mean the difference between being awarded the Medal of Honor or being given an anonymous hole in the ground so the worms could feed off of you. We had the greatest source of information in the world in the palm of our hands. With the Eye, we could learn not only the facts, but also what would become fact. It was a tremendous advantage, and I had to make sure we were going to get the most out of it – not only for my sake, but also for the sake of those I loved and stood a good chance of losing sometime soon.

### Chapter 31

I pulled up in front of Andre's house at around 16:00, according to the digital clock on the dashboard of the Honda. I had listened to the radio on the way there, a local station, and had discovered that it was in fact a Thursday and that the exact date was the 26th of March, 2012. The house was quiet, all the doors and windows were closed, and so I shut off the engine and stepped out of the car to take a closer look. It was possible that Andre was still at the University, which meant he wouldn't be home for another hour or so, or even more sinister was that he may still be missing after they took him from the Kei Bridge service station in December a few months ago. I had to make sure though, either way. I opened the small gate, which led to the walkway to the front door, and made my way through. The first thing I noticed was the several rolled up copies of newspapers which had been tossed on the front step, along with several unopened letters and utility bills. The garden was also untidy and overgrown. Weeds had started coming up through the cracks in the walkway, which was unusual, as Kim was quite fanatic about her garden. I could only assume that she may still be in Lichtenburg where Andre had shipped her off to back in September of the previous year.

I knocked on the door, even though I suspected nobody would be home. My suspicions were accurate as my announcement went unanswered. I decided to head around to the back yard and check the sliding door where I had entered previously. The grass in the back was almost knee high, and the once pristine blue of the swimming pool was now an ugly green color with a layer of algae on the top. It gave off an unpleasant smell and there were hundreds of tiny mosquito's buzzing around in the air. The sliding door was closed and locked, but I went straight to the pot plant that hid the spare key and removed it.

When I entered the house, the first thing that caught my attention was the stench. It was a putrid rotting smell, the kind you get when your fridge defrosts, and everything in it goes bad. I had to cover my nose with my shirt for the first few minutes until I became semi-accustomed to the stench. The house was untidy; there were dirty plates in the sink, unwashed coffee cups on the kitchen counter, the floor hadn't been mopped or vacuumed in ages, and there were clothes lying around in the bedroom. If Kim had been here to see the house in the state it was in right now, I think she may have had a heart attack!

I found the source of the smell immediately. It was coming from the rubbish bin, where leftover food had been tossed away, and had now started rotting. I lifted the black refuse bag out of the bin and carried it at arm's length out the sliding door, dripping rotten goo all the way. I tossed it to the side of the house, where the fresh air would dispel some of the fumes. As I re-entered the house I noticed a cell phone lying on the kitchen counter. I recognized it immediately as Andre's. I found that strange, as he was particular about keeping it with him at all times. It was stone dead. The battery either had been removed, or had run flat. Andre and Kim had a landline telephone, and I picked up the handset to try to call the University to see if Andre was there, but there was no dial tone. The account had been suspended, I guessed, from the stack of unopened phone bills lying on the porch next to the newspapers.

It appeared as if he hadn't been home in weeks, or even months! I found myself in a bit of a dilemma, as I had no way of contacting Andre by phone and it was pretty obvious that he wasn't coming home anytime soon. Could he really still be missing? Taken by Viktor? What was I supposed to do now?

My first reaction was to simply get the Eye and use it to return to September 2011, but then I realized that it would be pointless going back without any useful information on Viktor and his plans. The only problem was that without Andre there was really no other person who could help me right now, as the plan was for him to give me the information I needed. Without Andre around to report back to me, Viktor remained a mystery. A ghost. Without even a surname or a face to go on, how was I ever going to find out anything about the man and his plans? It seemed that I had wasted my time with this trip!

I left the house through the sliding door, locking it behind me again and stashing the key back where it belonged. By the time I reached the car, it was getting cooler, the evening moving in quickly. I sat behind the steering wheel for what seemed an eternity, simply running through all of my options. There really weren't any useful ideas coming out of my pondering, and I had just about reached the conclusion that I should just use the Eye and return to September, when it suddenly hit me like a lightning bolt. Why this month and year had seemed so relevant to me when I discovered where I was earlier.

March 2012 was the month I gave Nicole the letter and instructions to meet me at St. Dominic's in 2013! That's why it was all so familiar! Nicole had told me that I had gone to her apartment and given her the information in March 2012 that would result in her showing up to rescue me in 2013! Maybe this random landing in this particular month wasn't so random at all... maybe it was meant to happen this way, so that I could lay out my escape plans for the future. It could surely not just be a coincidence? This was just another piece of the puzzle falling into place... everything happens for a reason, they say! Perhaps this was my destiny! Perhaps the only reason for me being here right now was to lay the foundation for what was going to happen to me later in time. It seemed crazy, illogical even, but right now, it was also the only thing that made perfect sense! I had to find Nicole. There was no doubt in my mind that it was the right thing to do. The only thing to do!

I started the Honda and sped off in the direction of Morningside. It was almost rush hour now, and the roads were starting to get busier. It took the better part of half an hour before I was nearing Morningside, passing through the suburb of Cambridge. As I approached the Spar, a local grocery store, a car reversed out of a parking right in front of the door. At this time of the day, it was a prime parking spot, the alternative being a long walk from further up the street. It was almost as if I was compelled to take the parking spot, and I pulled into it without thinking. I was hungry anyway, but I also needed writing paper and a pen.

Once I had made my purchase of writing materials and two pepper steak pies, which I scoffed down in the car, I headed off towards Morningside. I had only been to Nicole's place once, and it was during the night, but the suburb was tiny and there were only a few apartment complexes. I recognized hers as soon as I saw it. There was a name in big white letters across the side of the two-storey building: Silverwood Flats. I pulled up into the parking lot at the back of the building, and as I got out of the car, I looked up at the second floor row of apartments. I wasn't sure which number she was in, to be honest I had been a bit distracted on my first visit here, but it had to be one of the apartments in the middle. There were six apartments on each floor. I headed up the stairs, which led from the parking lot into the apartment building and soon found myself standing in front of the second apartment on the top floor. All the doors were the same, so there was no way of knowing if I was in the right place. I knocked on the door of number 202 and waited.

After a few moments, the door opened and an elderly woman peeped out at me through the narrow crack.

"Yes?" she asked in a timid voice, raspy with age.

"I'm sorry." I said. "I must have the wrong apartment. I'm looking for Nicole. Do you perhaps know which number she is in?"

"Nicole?" she asked. "No. I can't say I do."

"She's a blond girl, about this high" I indicated with my one arm, "Very pretty...?"

The old lady frowned for a moment, then her eyes widened suddenly as she came to a realization. "Oh... you must mean young Miss Richards?"

"Yes!" I exclaimed. "That's the one." I recalled Nicole's surname.

"Oh dear... she moved out about four months ago. There's a new tenant in 204 now." She lowered her voice slightly. "A black man!"

I had to find the humor in her fear. With the South African apartheid regime dissolving in 1994 shortly before the election of Nelson Mandela as President of the country, it was difficult for the elderly of either race to get past the wrongs of the past. It would take several generations before the fear and bias that had been instilled in them all their lives would be replaced by acceptance. I was also disappointed that I had run into a dead end! Nicole was really my last option here and now.

"Okay." I shrugged. "Thank you anyway."

I had just started turning away to head back to the car when the old lady called out.

"I have some post for her." She said. "She asked me to forward them to her new address, but I just don't get out that much anymore. Since my husband, Herman, passed last year I don't do much driving on my own, you know?"

I nodded, excited at the prospect of getting a new address for Nicole. "I could take them to her." I replied.

"Okay. Hold on." The old lady closed the door and after a few moments returned again with a small handful of bills. She also gave me a piece of paper, which had an address written on it.

N. Richards, 126 Beau Vallon Heights, Southernwood, East London.

I stuck the paper in my back pocket, waved the letters in my right hand. "Thank you. I'll make sure she gets these."

She nodded and then closed the door.

I made my way back to the Honda and headed off towards Southernwood, which was in the same area as St Dominic's Hospital. The traffic had started subsiding by now which was a blessing. I reached the apartment complex within thirty minutes. Beau Vallon Heights was the tallest apartment complex in East London, a towering 12 story building housing almost 150 apartments. It was rundown, as were most of the apartments in Southernwood. With the increase in numbers of the lower middle class population, another side effect of the new, inexperienced regime, a large criminal element had taken over the suburb. Once a well kept, highly populated exclusively white area, Southernwood was now a haven of drugs and prostitution. With unemployment figures so high in the country, and especially in the city, people were making their own livings running drugs for the drug lords from Nigeria and other African countries, or resorting to prostitution to feed their multitude of children or support their alcoholic partners.

There was a security gate at the entrance to the complex, which was surrounded by 10ft high walls. The gate served no purpose though, as the electronic lock had been broken off some time ago, and the gate just swung open as I pushed it. Apartment 126 was the sixth apartment on the 12th floor, so I made a beeline for the elevators. It was hardly a surprise to see a handwritten sign on the elevators indicating that they were out of order. There was a stairwell to the left, littered with rubbish; discarded take out boxes, old magazines, condoms and even used baby nappies, and I now had the daunting task of climbing twelve flights of stairs to reach the floor where Nicole supposedly lived. I was in great shape, though, so the climb was a breeze aside from all the obstacles. I ran most of the way up and my body felt rewarded by the extra exercise by the time I had reached the twelfth floor.

I made my way to the door of apartment 126. It was painted a railway green color, the paint faded and peeling off in places, revealing a dark brown wood underneath. There was a rusted security gate in front of the door, which was padlocked shut. I rang the small doorbell to the left of the door, but it made no sound that I could hear, so I knocked on the door instead. I could hear scuffling inside as someone made their way to the door, and I waited eagerly for it to open to see my beautiful Nicole again.

There was the sound of several latches being undone, and then the handle turned and the door opened. A pale woman, dark hair cut short, boy style, opened the door. There were dark rings under her eyes, which were sunken into her skull causing deep shadowy pockets on her face. One of her cheekbones was a dark blue color, badly bruised. She had a cigarette dangling from her lips, which were swollen, and split, the obvious result of a beating. My heart dropped as the possibility occurred that I might never find Nicole again!

"Yes?" the woman asked, hanging on the open door, her voice tired and dreary. "What do you want?"

"Excuse me." I replied. "I was looking for someone else. I must have the wrong apartment..."

She tilted her head, moved closer to the security gate and peered out at me through it. There was a tiny flicker in her eyes which made me pause and look back at her as I was about to leave.

"Lionel?" she asked, and this time there was recognition in the tone of her voice. The way she pronounced my name was ringing a bell somewhere in the back of my mind, but it couldn't possibly be, could it?

"Nicole?" I asked in disbelief as I stared at the shell of the beautiful, vibrant woman I once knew.

At the mention of her name, she had to grab the security gate with both hands as her weak legs almost collapsed beneath her.

"What are you doing here? You can't be here..." she said softly, and the tiredness in her voice had now been replaced by another emotion, one that I recognized instantly.

Fear.

### Chapter 32

I clutched her hand through the security gate; it was ice cold and bonier than I remembered it being the last time I had held it. She leaned in against the gate and I ran my other hand over her bruised face through the bars.

"Open up." I said softly.

She pulled back a few inches, the fear returning to her eyes. She shook her head. "No. I can't."

"Why not?" I asked.

She peered past me down the long hallway towards the stairwell. "You have to go!"

"I'm not going anywhere." I replied. "Not without you."

She smiled. It was a shadow of the smile I once knew... but there it was, beneath her façade. The old Nicole. It faded quickly, though. "You don't understand." She hissed. "If he finds you here..."

"Who?" I asked, frowning, and the possibility of another man in her life was a stab to the heart. "If who finds me here?"

She shook her head again. "Please just go, Lionel. What are you doing here anyway? You left me alone six months ago, you disappeared. Now you're back here... for what?"

"I can explain that." I said. "I just need you to trust me! Let me in."

"I don't have the key." She sighed.

It took a moment for that to sink in. "What do you mean? You're locked in there?"

"It's none of your concern!" She replied angrily. "Just leave before you get hurt!"

I took a step backwards. What had happened to her since I had left her apartment in Morningside six months ago? How had she gone from a strong, independent, beautiful woman to this; a prisoner in her own apartment, abused and obviously using drugs and who knew what else? Had this been my fault? Had the premature contact with her at Lorraine's in Amalinda that night last year set things on a different path for her? Had I inadvertently changed our destinies? A cold fear enveloped me as the possibility that I may have ruined my one and only chance at escape from the hospital in 2013 occurred to me, and more terrifying than that, that I had ruined Nicole's life! I had to fix this!

"Whatever you are going through right now, I can help you!" I said.

She laughed and it was an empty and hollow sound. "No. You can't. Nobody can!"

"Yes!" I said, gritting my teeth. "I can!"

I lifted the padlock and gave it a tug. It was one of those round silver Yale locks, impossible to break open without a lot of effort. The security gate, although rusted, was heavy and solid, with sunken hinges. There was no way I was going to break through it without time and tools.

"Who is doing this to you?" I asked, and Nicole looked away, not wanting to answer me. "Is it Viktor?"

The mention of his name made her swallow hard, and I knew that somehow the mysterious man was involved in this! She looked up at me, her striking blue eyes the only part of her that still reminded me that she was still the woman I knew and cared for. "He will kill you! And me" she hissed.

"I will not let that happen." I said softly. "When is he coming back here?"

"He never comes himself." She replied. "He sends Artur usually."

"Artur?"

"My... my handler, I guess." She sighed. "He is dangerous!"

"Is he the one that hurt you like this? What time does he get here?" I asked angrily, the thought of a man hitting this fragile woman was boiling my blood. "What time?"

"I..." Nicole was hesitant to answer me, and I was getting frustrated at her lack of co-operation.

"Hey." I said, leaning in close to her face through the bars. "I will fix this. I promise. What time?"

"Around six." She sighed eventually. "Usually around six."

"What's the time now?" I asked, and Nicole looked at her wristwatch, which hung loosely over her wrist.

"Ten to six."

I nodded. I had ten minutes or so. "Go back inside and close the door."

"Please don't!" Nicole begged, reaching for me through the gate. I grabbed her hand in both of mine.

"It's okay." I said. "Just go inside and wait."

I turned and headed off back to the stairwell. I heard the door close behind me as I walked. I was furious! It seemed that everything I touched was turning to shit! Everyone I loved was getting hurt or getting killed, and to what end? To own the Eye and what it represented? All the Eye had given me was pain. It was a side effect that wasn't worth the cure. What good could possibly come from this freak of science? More harm than good, I was certain. Things had to come to an end... and soon!

I descended the stairwell to the eleventh floor, one below Nicole's apartment. I headed a few feet down the hallway, just out of sight of anyone coming up the stairs, but still within hearing distance. I found a pillar to lean against, and looked out over the chest high wall to the parking lot below. It was a long drop. The cars and people were tiny. I couldn't tell who this Artur person was from up here, so I just had to wait for the footsteps to come up the stairwell. If it meant I had to wait all night, then so be it!

I didn't have to wait long, as it turned out. Barely five minutes had passed before I heard the stomping of feet coming up the stairwell. They were heavy – the steps of a big man. There was only one set of footsteps, which meant he was alone, and that gave me a bit of hope. I could deal with one big Russian, but two would be a challenge. As I heard the footsteps pass the landing I was on and head up the next flight, I started after them. As I reached the stairwell, I caught a glimpse of the man as he turned at the top of the landing towards Nicole's apartment. I headed after him, keeping my distance. At the top of the landing, I peered around the corner to see that he had stopped in front of her door and was scrounging in his pocket for the key to the padlock. He was huge, much bigger than the man whose larynx I had crushed at Lionel's house. He was wearing black military pants, military boots, and a white vest. His muscular arms were tattooed all the way down, the image of a rose on his shoulder, leading down to a tiger bearing its teeth. On his neck was a drawing of a dagger, dripping blood. These were tattoos usually found on Russian convicts, their meanings beyond me at the moment, but I was certain they weren't a good sign. I recognized his face, and it took a moment before I realized why. He had been at Lorraine's the night Andre and I had met Nicole. He had been leaving the bathroom when I had entered. Had Viktor been onto us then already?

He had found the key by now, and had unlocked the padlock. As he opened the gate and then the door and started moving into the apartment, I started running down the hallway. It was a good twenty feet to the door and I reached it just as his hand was pulling the gate closed again. I kicked the closing gate open with one foot as I reached it, and the force pulled it out of his grasp. He was surprised by the sudden attack, and I used that to my advantage, punching hard at his face with all my might. My fist caught him square on the jaw, and his head rocked backwards, spilling him into the apartment. I followed quickly, pouncing on top of him as he landed on the floor of the kitchen. The training I had had as a cage fighter, which I couldn't physically remember, came back to me subconsciously, and I immediately placed my knee on his neck, pressing down with all my might. He struggled furiously, his huge arms swinging up towards my head. With my arms, I blocked his blows, although the power behind them was astonishing.

The pressure on his windpipe quickly reduced his airflow, and his blows became weaker as he bucked beneath me. I held my position, not allowing the bear of a man to escape my grip. I had anger fuelling my rage, and this assisted in holding the man down. After a few moments, his arms dropped to his side as he passed out from lack of oxygen. I was breathing heavily, sweat running down my back. I made sure he was completely out before I stood up off him.

Nicole was standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, holding onto the doorframe. Her eyes were wide with fear. I stepped over the Russian and went to her, folding my arms around her small body, pulling her into my chest. She placed her arms around me, squeezing as tightly as her frail body would allow, and I had to hold her up as her legs wanted to collapse. She was trembling and sobbing. I reluctantly pulled away after a short while.

"Help me with him." I said, heading back to Artur's big motionless body. We each grabbed an arm and pulled him into the living room, rolling him up into a sitting position on one of the single chairs. I emptied his pockets, finding a cell phone, car keys, a very large wad of R200.00 notes and a 9mm Makarov pistol, a short-barreled rapid-fire pistol, with a mahogany brown handle, tucked into the back of his pants under his vest. I sent Nicole for some rope or tape, and she returned with a couple of bed sheets. I tied them together, then rolled them up into a makeshift rope and proceeded to tie the Russian's feet to the legs of the chair, and then wrapped the balance of the sheet-rope around his body, trapping his arms. When I was done, I sat on the couch opposite him, panting heavily. Nicole brought me a glass of water. The glass was greasy and dirty, but I drank the water anyway. It was just another indication of the level to which Nicole had descended. I left the last bit of water in the glass, stood up, and then splashed it on the Russian's face. He spluttered and woke up, dazed.

When he had regained some composure and saw me standing there he strained angrily against his restraints, a fire in his eyes, which were filled with hatred.

"Вы умерли." He spat at me, his voice hoarse.

"I don't speak Sputnik." I replied.

"You are dead." He said, his accent thick. "A dead man."

I laughed softly. "I've been hearing that a lot lately. Death is overrated, my friend. Ask your cousins."

He spat at me, a globule of sputum that narrowly missed my face. "You have got no idea who you are messing with!"

"You mean Viktor?" I asked, and the confused expression on his face meant that I had surprised him with my knowledge, limited of course, but he did not know that.

"You cannot expect to scratch in another man's cake and get away with it." He grunted.

"I'm so glad we agree on something!" I chuckled. "Considering that you have been scratching in my 'cake' for a while now." I gestured at Nicole. "You picked the wrong candy store, my friend."

"I am not your friend." He hissed.

"The feeling is mutual." I said, leaning in closer to his face. "Let's just get that out the way, shall we? Now, I need some answers, and you are going to give them to me, okay?"

"Ha!" he laughed. "What are you going to do? Torture me? What you think you know about torture and pain I have already forgotten."

"No." I replied. "Torture is not my style. To be honest, I've never been a fan of inflicting pain and suffering on others, although I'm sure you can't say the same. No, my friend... Artur, is it? To be honest, I really don't have the time to play long games with you. I couldn't care either way if you are going to tell me what I need to know or not. The end result is still going to be the same. You either end this day alive or dead. It's as simple as that. And that will be up to you."

"Then I choose dead." He replied. "Save you some time, huh?"

"Okay." I replied. "But it's not going to be that simple." I punched him hard in the nose, the bones crunching under my fist, blood spewing out over the front of his white vest. He screamed in pain.

"I told you I'm not telling you anything!" he spat out blood as he spoke, smiling.

"I know." I replied. "That wasn't for information... that was for what you did to Nicole."

He looked over at her and grunted. "This whore? Is that all you've got?"

"No." I said as I took off my shirt and folded it neatly on the couch. "That was just me stretching."

### Chapter 33

The Russian never said a word. He was a loyal servant to Viktor, and it was probably fear that motivated him to retain his silence. As I continued to beat him, to smash his face with my fists, it became less and less about getting him to tell me something useful, and more about resolving my own frustrations with what this man represented. The lives lost, the turmoil caused, the pain inflicted on those I loved. I wasn't going to kill him. I had decided that from the beginning, but I needed him to feel the pain that I had felt in losing Jackie, Andre, Kim, and Nicole. It was punishment for future sins.

Nicole had to stop me at one point, as I had beaten the Russian to within an inch of his life. His face was a swollen, bloody mess, hardly recognizable anymore. My hands were bleeding as well, the knuckles ripped open by a wayward tooth or a sharp bone, but I wasn't feeling any pain in them. There was no more pain to be felt, only the need for revenge. She pulled me away from the big man, and it was her crying that brought me back to my senses. She had been through too much in the past few months, and I wasn't helping right now. I flopped onto the couch, panting heavily, covered in a mixture of Artur's and my own blood. He was unconscious, probably had been for a few minutes already.

"Leave him." She cried as she lay in my arms. "Let's just get out of here."

I nodded. I was done with this man. There was no more fight left in me. I waited for her as she packed a small bag of clothes. By the time she returned to the living room, she was shaking uncontrollably. At first, I thought it was out of fear and adrenalin, but when she opened a drawer in the kitchen and pulled out a syringe and a small plastic bag of powder, I realized it was withdrawal. She was addicted to cocaine. They had turned her into an addict while they played their games with her, and now it was her life and all she knew. I stood up and placed my hand over the items she had removed from the drawer.

"No." I said. "Not anymore."

"I need it." She said angrily. "You don't understand!"

"I do." I replied. "But you will get over it, with my help."

I took the syringe and ounce of cocaine from her, then grabbed a tablespoon and heated a fair portion of the powder until it was a liquid. I drew it into the syringe, took a strip of tubing that was lying in the drawer, and wrapped it around Artur's arm, tying it tight. I injected the full syringe into his exposed vein, and then placed the empty cartridge into his other hand. The cocaine would send him into a coma. If he was lucky it would not kill him, but I wasn't too concerned whether it did or not. I wanted him to experience the life he had given Nicole, it seemed only fitting.

She was struggling mentally with what I was doing, desiring the promise that the cocaine offered, but she stayed back, and I took some reward from her strength. I grabbed the cash, cell phone, and gun that Artur had gifted us, and then we left the apartment, untying the sheets from his body and legs and leaving the door open for any possible passerby to spot the Russian passed out in the chair. It was a long walk down to the ground floor. Nicole was weak and fragile, and unaccustomed to the exercise required. She was exhausted by the time we reached the bottom, and I had to pick her up in my arms and carry her the rest of the way to the car. She weighed nothing, and this frightened me more than anything else.

We drove to the beachfront area. The Regent Hotel overlooked the sea, and was the biggest hotel in the city. It would offer some anonymity for us, even if it were just temporarily. I left Nicole in the car as I paid for the room, and then carried her upstairs. She was sleeping when I lay her in the bed and covered her up. I grabbed a shower, cleaning myself of the blood and sweat, wondering what the desk clerk must have thought of me when she rented me the room, as I had been disheveled and dirty. I guess it didn't matter because I paid in cash, so a customer was a customer, even at the Regent.

There was a clothing boutique downstairs, and I used some of the cash I had taken from Artur to buy new clothes for both Nicole and I. I had no idea if my apartment still existed across town, as the past six months were a blank for me. I also wasn't taking any chances by going back there, in case Viktor had his goons watching the place. In the meantime, I was comfortable using Viktor's own blood money to fund our escape. I placed an order at the Reception desk for some Room Service food and then headed back upstairs. Nicole was still sleeping, a deep sleep that I was hesitant to wake her up from. I waited patiently on the chair next to the bed, until a soft knock on the door announced the arrival of the food. I took the tray in, tipped the surprised porter R200.00, and then turned the "Do Not Disturb" sign around.

I woke Nicole up to eat something. She was drowsy and only nibbled on a bit of the chicken wrap I had ordered for her. I let her fall asleep again afterwards, not wanting to start a long conversation with her until she was well rested. I left the trolley with the leftover food and plates outside the door, and then pulled up the chair at the built-in desk and took out the writing materials I had bought earlier at the Spar. With the writing pad laid open in front of me, I picked up a pen and let it hover over the page for a moment. Then I started writing.

Dear Lionel. I have done many strange things in my life, but writing this letter to myself is probably among the strangest I've ever had to do! I can only imagine how you must feel, as you are reading this now, a year after I wrote it.

I paused for a moment as I read the words back to myself. The overwhelming sense of déjà vu that followed was a paranormal reminder that things were getting back on track – back to the way they were meant to be. Those words were familiar and spooky. It was a strange sensation knowing that I would be reading this very letter again in a year's time. I bent my head forward and continued writing, and it was almost a half an hour later that I finally signed the finished letter off and dated it March 2012. I remembered how I had felt reading this in 2013, and although my words made complete sense to me right now, I knew it would be a different version of me that would read this one year later.

It was some time after 10pm when I finally climbed into the bed next to Nicole. I must have fallen asleep instantly, as I don't remember anything else until I woke up to the sunlight streaming on my face in the morning. Nicole wasn't in the bed with me, but I could hear the shower running. I stretched out; my muscles were stiff from the exertions of the day before. As I stood up and walked over to the open window the bathroom door opened, and Nicole came out wearing only a towel wrapped around her body, and one around her hair. Some color had started returning to her face.

"Hey." I said, smiling.

She dropped her eyes to the floor. "Good morning."

I could sense a hesitance in her voice, and in the way she moved her body as she headed towards the bed. I reached out and grabbed her gently by the arm, turning her to look at me. She kept her head down, but I lifted her chin with my hand until her blue eyes met mine.

"You're okay now." I said.

She blinked a few times, and I could see her eyes welling up with tears. "I may never be okay." She moved away from me, towards the window, staring out over the ocean that stretched to the horizon, a gentle breeze caressing her face. "I'm a coke addict. That's who I am now."

"No." I said, moving up behind her and putting my arms around her body. "You were a coke addict. We will fix this, I promise. Just give me..."

"We?" she interrupted. "I don't even know you anymore, Lionel! You were gone when I woke up after that night at Lorraine's. I thought we had connected! I thought we had something... the start of something... but you were gone. And you never came back!"

I sighed at the pain in her voice. "I know, and I'm sorry, but I never wanted to involve you in what was happening. I was trying to keep you safe."

She laughed, and it was an empty sound. "Safe? Good job you did, then. Do you know how confused I was when they came to take me? It was almost two months after that night. I had no idea what was going on. I couldn't even answer their questions – and when they brought up your name, even then, I had nothing to tell them."

"Jesus." I whispered. "I left because I never wanted them to find you! I thought I was protecting you."

She turned to look me in the eyes. "Do you know what Viktor said to me?"

I shook my head.

"He told me that sooner or later you would come back for me. I thought he was crazy. We hardly knew each other... why would you come back? I was the worm on his fishing hook, he said! I was just the bait."

"Well I guess they weren't expecting the fish to fight back." I said.

"Why did you come back anyway?" she asked. Her tone was both serious and disappointed.

"Because you were... are... important to me." I replied. "I don't know how else to say it or explain it without sounding crazy."

"Try." She said. "You owe me that... at least!"

I nodded. "Okay, you're right. I do owe you that. But you may not believe me."

"I never believed I'd become a coke addict either, or that I would be the prisoner of a Russian mobster." She said. "I think I could handle whatever it is you have to tell me."

I smiled and pulled her closer, the feel of her body against mine so different, but also so familiar. I took a few deep breaths, then moved her away from me and stared into her eyes.

"I'm a time-traveler." I said, "And somewhere in the future you are going to save my life. Viktor and his men are after Andre and me because they want the device that allows us to visit the future, and they will stop at nothing to get it... even murder." I was expecting her to burst out laughing, or to slap me for believing I was lying to her, but she did neither. Instead, she leaned her head against my chest and looked out over the ocean again.

After a long while, she said, "Okay. I thought I had some major problems, but you win... hands down."

For the first time since seeing her again, I could just hear a trace of a smile in her voice.

### Chapter 34

We ate a breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, fried mushrooms, and toast in the room. She was starved and attacked her food with vigor. I was just happy to see her appetite returning. As we ate we spoke, and it was a comfortable dialogue. It was uncanny how easily our conversation flowed, there was always something to say, and we understood each other completely, regardless of the topic. She told me all about what had happened to her after Viktor had taken her. How she had fought against them, and tried to escape several times; and how they had started her on the cocaine to keep her calm and quiet. She couldn't give me too much information about Viktor, only what she had picked up from her conversations with him in the beginning, but after I wasn't showing up, the conversations and visits became less, and he had eventually left her in Artur's hands. She believed that Viktor was not working for anybody else. He was hunting us on his own. He was rich, had a huge house somewhere – she wasn't sure where, as she had been blindfolded on the drive there, but she remembered the size of it, the marble floors, Olympic swimming pool, huge lawns. It was somewhere near the ocean, as she had heard the waves, but she couldn't say where exactly. He spoke about his life back in Russia, but just general stuff. He had served in the Gestapo for many years before taking over the family business. He had been arrested for murder and sent to prison. There he had met his future soldiers, and quickly established himself in the Russian prison system. He escaped and fled to South Africa, under a new identity. She also told me about the things that Artur had done to her. That she was his sex toy, and he would beat her if she refused. She got beat a lot.

Talking about that part was the most difficult for her, and I could sense that she thought I would think less of her for it, but rape was rape. I told her that. I also told her about the Eye and about the role that she would play in our future. When we got to the part about the Lottery ticket, she was amazed and asked if it was true. I wrote the numbers I had memorized down on a piece of paper, and as I handed it to her, I immediately recognized it as the exact piece of paper that she would frame one day. That déjà vu again! I told her to buy the ticket in two weeks time. I gave her the letter I had written to myself, and asked her to keep it safe, along with some of the new clothes I had bought the night before. We found a leather folder in the draw under the writing desk, which turned out to be the exact same folder I would open up in a year's time to read the letter! I re-iterated how important it was going to be for her to be at St Dominic's Hospital at 20h30 exactly on the 14th February next year, and she promised me that she would.

"What happens now?" she asked me as we lay on the bed next to each other, staring out the window.

"I have to go back." I sighed. "Back to 2011. The bit of information you gave me about Viktor may go a long way in resolving our problem. We can research into his history in Russia. Maybe check prison records... Try to get the upper hand. I need Andre for that, but he is missing right now. I know if I use the Eye I will return to the point where I left him, before any of this happens."

"And what about me?" she asked, a fear in her voice. "What if they find me again?"

"They won't." I replied. "There is a place in Hogsback where Jackie and I spent our honeymoon. It's a leased cabin up in the mountains, kilometers from everything, even a cell phone signal. I'm going to take you there. You need to stick it out for two weeks, cash in that lottery ticket, and then set yourself up somewhere else until February next year when you come to get me at St Dominic's."

"This must be difficult for you too." She said softly. "I mean, with you and Jackie. Finding out you were divorced and everything... "

I nodded. "Yes. It has been, but I'm starting to realize that there isn't much I can do about the past. At least, not anything that happened before Andre developed the Eye. Jackie and I are over, and I've accepted that to a degree, but I cannot accept being responsible for her death one day. She doesn't deserve that. She deserves a life. A full life. You know what I mean?" I couldn't tell Nicole that I was also concerned about preventing her own death as well! She didn't need to hear that right now, and I had strategically left that part out of our conversation.

"Why can't you stay with me at the cabin... in this time?"

I chuckled. "And draw these people in on you again? I could never do that. You have to disappear, and I have to go in a different direction. They will be looking for me first. They've already taken Andre. I cannot. I will not ... contact you once I leave you in Hogsback. My first priority has to be to get the Eye as far away from everything that's important to me as possible."

"What does it look like?" she asked excitedly, sitting up suddenly on the bed. "Can I see it? Will you take me to it?"

"The Eye?" I asked.

"Yes. I've never seen a time-machine before. Does it look like the car from Back to the Future?"

I laughed. "No."

I stood up and walked over to my sports bag, which I had removed from the Honda's boot the night before. I tossed it on the bed, zipped it open, and pulled out the Eye.

"You've seen it before." I said.

Her eyes widened in surprise. "The shiny cricket ball thingy? That's your time machine?" She frowned. "Are you kidding me?"

"No." I smiled. I explained briefly how it worked.

"Can I try it?" she asked breathlessly, enthralled by the small mirror-surfaced object.

"No." I said sternly. "Never! Trust me this thing hasn't been properly tested yet. There's no guarantee it will even work with anyone else. It could kill you, for all I know." I also didn't want to mention that Nicole had never touched the Eye in the future, except for the moment she was killed. I would never forgive myself for sending her to her death again.

"Okay." She said, frowning. I was happy to see the old Nicole returning, even though her hair was different and she had lost a few kilograms, inside that body was the heart of the woman I had started to fall in love with.

I had to stop and think about that for a moment. It had come out of nowhere! Was I really falling in love with her? Had she really managed to grab my heart so quickly, or was it just a chemical reaction from the stress and adrenaline over the past few scattered days? As I looked at her smiling up at me on the bed, at the summer dress she had put on which had crawled up her leg and revealed the smooth flesh of her thigh to me. Her eyes – so deeply blue and beautiful and intense... Her lips, bruised and still slightly swollen, but so soft and enticing regardless... I realized suddenly that it was all of the above, and more. My heart was beating furiously, as a teenager's heart would at the sight of his secret crush catching his eye across a crowded classroom.

I was in love with her!

"We should go." Nicole said. "I'm starting to feel a craving for drugs... amongst other things."

I smiled and nodded. "Can't let that happen, hey?" My hands were trembling, my throat dry.

I was having my own cravings, but they were for something much more addictive and life altering than any drug I could think of... the touch of her soft skin against mine. I found myself leaning in towards her, and she simultaneously came up to meet me halfway. The passion of our first encounter a few months back was nothing compared to what followed. The world around us seemed to disappear as our inquisitive hands explored each other's bodies; our hungry lips caressed and devoured every inch of each other. The soft, silky warmth of our warm, quickly naked bodies pressing against each other was unrivaled against any previous experience, as we slipped and moved and panted frantically, me a part of her, she a part of me. Once I was inside her, I couldn't remember ever feeling so complete, so whole. She moaned beneath me as we moved in unison enjoying a pleasure so intense it was almost supernatural, and I never wanted it to end, never wanted to stop! We were coated in each other's sweat, lubricated by our desire, fueled by our passion, inspired by our emotions.

We came apart, reluctantly, what seemed like an eternity later; blissfully unconcerned with the rest of the world; drained, complete and breathing heavily. Lying in each other's arms - as if it was the only place in the universe we were ever meant to be. For that short, satisfied moment, it was the safest place I could think of, and I never wanted to leave there, even though I knew we would have to... eventually.

### Chapter 35

We left the Regent Hotel shortly after 11.00 am and made the long drive to Hogsback. It was a tiny village about 140 kilometers from East London, nestled in the surrounds of the Amatola Forest. It was named after one of the small mountain peaks in the area, which resembled a hog's back. The painter, Thomas Baines, was the first to make reference to the term, and it stuck. It was rumored that the author J.R.R. Tolkien, who was born in South Africa, had based his fantastic tale 'The Lord of the Rings' on the locations in and around Hogsback, but that was never proven. Of course, the legend alone - true or not, assisted in making the small village a famous destination for tourists and travelers alike. It was a beautiful part of South Africa, famous for its hiking trails through the forests and mountains. Some of the fantastical names given to the sights added to its appeal; The 39 Steps, Madonna and Child Falls, the Big Tree and Kettlespout Falls, amongst others.

The drive up to Hogsback was weirdly comfortable. Nicole and I did not speak much, but we never felt the need to either. She held my hand almost the whole way, and we couldn't help ourselves from looking over and smiling at each other occasionally. What had happened that morning between us had been magical - even life-changing. I found myself driven by a deeper purpose now, a reason to repair all the damage done by the Eye since we had started using it. As we approached the central booking office at the Arminel Inn however, I could sense some hesitation in her body language as she realized we were nearing the point of separation. I left her in the car as I went into the office and booked the Cabin near Tyumy Pools, where Jackie and I had spent our honeymoon a long, long time ago. Luckily, it was out of season, so the cabin was empty for the foreseeable future. I paid for it in advance for a month with more of Artur's wad of money that I had taken from him. With the key in hand, I returned to the Honda and we headed up towards the cabin, a good few kilometers out of the village.

When we pulled up outside it a few minutes later, Nicole grabbed my hand with a sense of urgency before I could step out of the car.

"Stay with me one more night." She whispered.

"I can't." I replied earnestly. "I'm like a magnet for Viktor and his following. The longer I am with you, the more likely it will be that they will find you. I can't take that risk!"

She sighed and nodded. "Okay, but you promise that you will be at St Dominic's hospital on the 14th February next year, right? You're not going to get yourself killed or anything, or disappear again?"

I smiled. "Yes. No. I mean, yes, I will be at the hospital. No, I won't get myself killed! Just remember, it's you that has to save me by being there!"

"Oh, I'll be there. I promise."

We kissed before we exited the car, a long and passionate kiss, tainted by tenderness and care.

"I want you to know...," she said, then paused. "I want you to know that I'm in love with you."

My heart pounded so hard in my chest I thought it was going to burst out through my ribcage at any moment.

"I love you, too." I replied gently, and kissed her again.

We unpacked her few bags and carried them up to the porch of the cabin. It was built out of the logs of the surrounding forest, and blended in to the nature around it. It was a quaint little place, surrounded by lush forests and the sounds of waterfalls not far away. I set her bags down in the living room/kitchen area.

"They come to restock the firewood on a daily basis, and I'm leaving the car with you, so you can get in to the village to buy supplies or whatever. Don't go further than that!" I gave her the rest of the money from Artur's stash. "There is about R3000.00 left here. That should hold you for food and toiletries until the lotto ticket cashes. There is a Lotto machine at the shop in town. Remember to buy the ticket in two weeks time!"

"What about you?" she asked concernedly.

"I'll be fine." I replied. "You can drive me into town just now so that I can buy some camping equipment. I'm heading up the trails from here, towards Cathcart and then on to Queenstown, probably. They will have a hard time finding me for the next few weeks, which will give us a bit of a gap. Enough time for you to get yourself sorted out."

"When will you go back to 2011?" she asked.

"Tonight" I replied.

"What happens to the 'you' from this year when you go back?"

"Nothing unusual" I replied. "At least, I don't think so. I'm assuming I just carry on with my current path. Every time I've jumped into a future self, I am already in a situation or action. It's not as if I'm lying somewhere in a coma or anything. It's hard to explain... and I may never understand it completely! I guess the best way to try to explain it is that it's sort of like catching a bus. When you're on the bus you are experiencing that precise moment of time, but when you climb off, the bus keeps going, and you are not aware of what is happening on the bus or where it is headed after that, but it is still moving without you."

"Okay." She said. "It is a lot to wrap your mind around."

"I know which is why I try not to think about it too much. I think I'd go crazy trying to work out all the possibilities and randomness of it all!"

"I'm going to miss you." She said suddenly.

"Come." I replied. "Let's take a walk."

We followed a path, which led from the cabin out into the surrounding forest. It was mid afternoon and the sun was streaming through the gaps in the canopy of the forest, creating a surreal and stunning backdrop for the lush undergrowth beneath it. We held hands like teenage lovers as we walked, and we spoke about different things, avoiding any discussion around my departure, or the future. We shared stories from our childhood, of growing up in different towns and cities, of adventures in our past lives that we would always remember and refer to. It was as if we were trying to get to know each other as deeply as possible before I left. There was a twelve-year age gap between us, but this did not matter. It had nothing to do with our age. It had everything to do with the fact that we were kindred souls despite it.

After a good half an hour's walk we reached the Tyumy Pools, a stunning series of pools, which dropped off via waterfalls from one to the next, and so on. We found a spot just above the highest pool and looked out over the valley before us, an endless stretch of forest and mountainside. It really was the most beautiful place on earth. Nicole wrapped her arms tightly around my midriff and squeezed.

"Thank you, Lionel." She said.

"For what?"

"For saving me."

I had to swallow hard, but not hard enough that she would notice. The fear those words left in my throat was thick and slimy. Had I saved her? From Viktor's clutches - yes, perhaps. From the fate that awaits her in 2013? I couldn't answer that. It seemed the bus would keep moving, and eventually it would reach that terrible point in time, and maybe I could make it change course, but maybe I couldn't. I wish I knew. I hugged her back, though, as she had been through enough and really didn't need any of my doubts.

"You saved me." I replied instead. "Come, let's head back. I need to get on the road. We've stretched the risk as far as we dare."

When we reached the cabin, I let Nicole drive me back into the village of Hogsback. We stopped outside the only shop in the single road. It was a combination of clothing shop, antique shop, gift shop, supermarket and take away, all rolled into one. I sent Nicole off with a trolley to purchase her supplies for the next few days, while I headed off to the camping equipment section. There was a really limited choice there, so I took what I could find – a rucksack, hiking boots, one-man tent, water bottle, warm jacket and odds and ends such as a few lighters and a torch. The bill came to almost R2500.00 including all of the groceries Nicole had bought, and I paid for it from my own wallet.

We headed back up to the cabin after loading the car, and I helped Nicole unpack her bags of food and toiletries. I proceeded to pack my rucksack on the front porch, squeezing the tent, clothing, food, and other items into it, until it was full. I tied up my new hiking shoes, then I was ready for my hike, and it was getting late. The sun had started going down just below the peak of Hogs Back. This was still a wild part of the country, and there were all sorts of animals out there, but I was not afraid of the natural wonders of Africa, I was more concerned with the threat that humans posed to us right now!

Nicole had come out onto the porch. She had changed into a sweat pants and top, and had a scarf around her neck. I could see that her eyes were red, and she had been crying. I walked over and held her tightly in my arms.

"Promise me you will be strong!" I said, looking into her eyes. "Not for me, but for yourself... you know. The cocaine..."

"I'll be fine." She said. "I've realized what my life could have turned into, and that is going to be motivation enough. I'm more concerned about you..."

"Don't be." I whispered, kissing her forehead. "I will be fine. Do me one favor though?"

"Anything."

"Grow your beautiful hair out again? I'm having a hard time with this punk rock chick style you have going on right now."

She laughed, and it was the saddest laugh I'd ever heard. "I will. I promise. See you in eleven months then?"

"Ten and a half." I smiled, then turned away and picked up my rucksack, hiding the lump that had formed in my throat. I handed her the Makarov pistol I had taken from Artur.

"Just in case" I smiled.

She waved goodbye from the porch as I headed off towards the forest, along the trail we had taken earlier. I smiled back at her once, then kept my eyes on the path ahead, not wanting to turn and see her standing there, so alone, so vulnerable. I had to believe that things would work out now, and that we would meet again sometime soon, under better circumstances.

I walked for almost an hour before I needed to rest, trying to stop thinking about her back there, alone. I figured I had done more than 5 kilometers through the dense forest, and I had changed trails several times to make sure that I would struggle to find my way back. There was no going back from here... that I promised myself. I sat on a fallen log near a small rise, which was lined with rows and rows of silhouetted pine trees. They were stark black shadows against the grey sky, the silver full moon a beacon of light in the background. It was an eerie sight, but also beautiful. I drank from my water bottle, and then pulled the Eye out from the side pocket of the rucksack where I had stashed it. It was time to go.

I kept my eye on the moonlit tree line as I pressed the buttons on the silver ball. In this place of natural beauty, the jolt of electricity seemed unnatural – almost as if it didn't belong here. Yet it lifted me into the darkness, keeping the backdrop of trees and moon in sight. As the pinpoint of familiar light approached me and rolled itself open into the glaring blue eye which always greeted me before I travelled, I couldn't help but wonder at the significance of it in this place. It was as if Mr. Tolkien was writing another chapter in his fantastical book, as the Great Eye, which sees all is commanded by the Lord of Mordor to spy on me. I was not afraid though, as Frodo had been. The Eye in my version, as menacing as it appeared, was a familiar friend. The "ferryman" of my mind, if you will. Leading me to the next world and whatever destiny waited for me in the scattered days beyond.

### Chapter 36

Fading into my old reality from 2011 was difficult this time. Coming out of the darkness of the forests at Hogsback and into the glare of the bright lights in the Science Lab at the University was a challenge on its own. My eyes took a long time getting used to the sudden brightness. The peaceful night sounds of nature were replaced by the loud and irritating buzzing and beeping of machines and equipment and it reminded me how easy it was to forget our roots in Mother Nature. My senses seemed to be heightened during the transition, and this was something that took getting used to. I was cranky as I came around, snapping at Andre when he asked me a simple question, but I think it had more to do with the fact that I knew I was leaving Nicole behind, and that I was concerned for her... missing her. Of course, I knew that there was no other alternative. I wasn't going to resolve our dilemma from the future; it had to be done from the past.

"How are you feeling?" Andre asked for a second time as I swung my legs over the edge of the stretcher and sat up straight. My head was pounding and I felt a bit nauseous as well.

"I'm okay." I muttered as I placed the Eye on the counter. "I need something for my head."

Andre fetched me two headache pills from his desk drawer as well as a glass of water. I drank them down slowly.

"Your charts were off the wall!" Andre was saying excitedly. "You wouldn't believe the peaks in your CT scan, man! It was incredibly informative!"

"Good to know." I said. "How long was I out?"

"Twelve minutes." He replied.

It was taking some getting used to knowing that I was experiencing days of my life in the future self, but only losing minutes of it in the past.

"So what happened? How far did you go? Did you find me there?"

I held up my hand. "Slowly. I'll tell you everything, but I think I need to throw up first."

A concerned look came over Andre's face. "That's new. We have to be careful of these side-effects."

I nodded, and then closed my eyes for a few moments. The hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach dissipated after a few moments. I climbed off the stretcher, walked over to one of the student chairs, and sat down.

"So?" Andre asked eager to get some answers from me.

"I went to March 2012."

"Okay. So that's 6 months ahead."

I nodded. "I couldn't find you. Your house was deserted; you hadn't been there for months. I think Viktor still had you."

"And Kim?" he asked with trepidation.

"I don't know." I replied. "She wasn't there either. But I found Nicole."

"Nicole? That's the woman from the pub that night?" Andre sounded disappointed.

"Yes. She's the one who rescues me from St Dominic's in 2013. That doesn't happen by accident. I set her up to meet me there when the time came."

"And what else? Did we learn anything about Viktor?"

"Nicole had met him... don't ask me how, it's a long story. Point is she was able to give me some information. Maybe we can use it."

"What did she know?"

I told Andre what Nicole had told me about Viktor. He was rich, living somewhere near the beach, defected from Russia a few years back, escaped from a Russian prison, used to be a member of the Gestapo, and changed his name.

"That's it?" Andre asked. "Are you serious?"

I shrugged. "That's all she knew. I did run into one of his goons, tried to make him talk, but the guy was a locknut. They're professionals, and I think they're afraid of their boss. He wouldn't say a word about anything."

"So we really don't have much to go on at all, do we?"

"We know that Viktor escaped from a Russian prison. Maybe we can dig up something."

"Okay. It's worth a shot." Andre replied. "I know what to do."

"Do you have another friend, this time in the Russian prison system?" I asked sarcastically, and Andre chuckled.

"No. It's something called 'Google'."

I chuckled as he headed over to his laptop and hooked up the internet cable. I stood behind him watching over his shoulder as he searched Google for Russian prison escapes. There were surprisingly few articles about this online, and it was a testament to the extremely tough penal system in the country. However, on the sixth page we stumbled across an old European newspaper archive site, which referenced an article from 2001.

MOSCOW, January 15th, RAPSI. A man who escaped from prison in the Vologda region in a helicopter, along with five accomplices, is still reported missing, the Prosecutor General's Office reported on Monday. Alexei Titov escaped from a prison for especially dangerous criminals on October 23rd last year in a helicopter hijacked by two of his accomplices after serving only a quarter of his sentence. Titov was sentenced to twenty-four years, including five years in a high-security prison. The remainder of the term will be served in a specialized penal colony. According to investigators, Titov hired the helicopter to fly to a camping site on the morning of October 23rd and to pick up two passengers. Once in the air the gang threatened the pilot, forcing him to fly to the prison where Titov was serving his sentence. The helicopter hovered above the prison while Titov and two fellow inmates, Vadim Demidov and Artur Andreev, climbed a rope that had been thrown down and escaped. Titov and his accomplices abandoned the helicopter in a Vologda suburb and have not been seen since. Titov is well known for his ties to the Gestapo as well as wealth relating to his family's oil-pipeline business.

"Do you think this could be our Viktor?" Andre asked. "It's a long shot."

"I'm not sure." I said, as I re-read the article. "Aha!"

"What is it?" Andre asked, leaning in to see what I was pointing at.

"There... the name of one of his fellow inmates that escaped with him... Artur Andreev! The goon that I dealt with in 2012's name was Artur. He was covered in prison tattoos, so he had to have been with Viktor in prison! It can't be a coincidence! Think about it. Wealthy family, Gestapo ties, escape from prison. Alexei Titov has to be the mysterious Viktor!"

Andre typed in the name Alexei Titov into Google. The search brought up several articles on Alexei Titov, the well-known Russian composer and violinist, who we were quite convinced, was not the man we were looking for. Further, down the page though, under the Google Images tab, there were several head and shoulder shots of people, along with the name we were looking for. Andre took a step back from the laptop, his hand over his mouth.

"Oh my God." He whispered.

"What is it?" I asked.

"This guy" he said, pointing at the photograph of a middle-aged man, well dressed in a designer blue suit, slightly overweight. "I know him!"

"Is it Viktor?" I asked excitedly.

"No. Yes. Maybe." He shook his head and shrugged. "He was at the University a few weeks ago, right about the time I was busy with the design of the Eye. He was part of a delegation of local businessmen who were visiting the University to discuss possible scholarships. The Dean took them around on a tour of the campus, and they made a turn at the lab. I remember him specifically because he was very interested in what we were working on, and asked a lot of questions."

"Did you tell him anything?" I asked.

"Nothing important... but then I'm not sure. That was before we had even finished developing the Eye. I might have hinted at what we were planning, but I can't remember!"

"Do you think it could be him? Viktor, or Alexei or whatever his name is?" I asked.

"He was older, but I swear it's the same guy!" Andre clicked on the photograph and it directed us to a link for a dated LinkedIn website. The profile article listed Alexia Titov as the CEO of Titov Industries, a multi-national oil mining company, specializing in pipelines. The company was based in St Petersburg, Russia.

"That has to be him!" I exclaimed. "This profile is quite dated, 1994, to be exact, but that sort of ties up to the newspaper article. Alexei Titov was serving a 24-year sentence, but had only served about six years before his escape in 2000. I think we've found our mysterious Viktor!"

"No." Andre said. "We've found Alexei Titov, a man who Viktor used to be. All we have on our Viktor is that he now lives in East London, and that he is a big part of the business community."

"Can you print that photograph?" I asked.

"Sure. Why?"

"We go old school, door to door at the major companies. Somebody will recognize him and be able to give us his full name."

"Good idea, but an even better one is to go straight to the Round Table. They know everybody in business in this town!" Andre replied as he hooked the printer up to the laptop and printed the photograph.

As the photograph slowly emerged from the printer, and the face of the man who had been terrorizing us, the man who had ultimately been responsible for the death of everybody that I loved so far, slowly began to appear, I couldn't help but feel a deep anger welling up inside me. My rage had been directed at a previously invisible person, but now there was a face to the name, and I was even more determined than ever to find him and make him accountable! The "ghost" was no longer untouchable. He was a man of flesh and blood. More importantly, he could bleed.

### Chapter 37

Andre had started collecting all the data from the CT scan and blood pressure readings that he had taken while I had been under. I watched as he uploaded the information onto his laptop. When he was done, he packed the laptop up and popped it into his briefcase, along with all the paper research he had gathered since beginning his experiments.

"We should go." He said, checking his wristwatch. " It's already 10h30. We've been here too long."

I nodded. "Okay."

With the photograph and the Eye in hand, we decided to head off to the offices of the local Round Table, which was situated in Nahoon. I had attended a few meetings there when I was much younger, and I was familiar with the organization and their causes. If there was any place in town that would know what Viktor's full name and occupation was, it was them. They were acutely aware of all the local business owners and professionals in the city, and were always on recruitment drives to round up new members.

As the Honda made its way through town and towards the beachfront suburb of Nahoon there was a nervous vibe in the air. Andre kept checking behind us to make sure we weren't being followed while I kept my eye on the mirrors and upcoming intersections as well. There was no telling when we were going to run into Viktor's men again, and after the incident with the Russian at Andre's house this morning, it wouldn't be long before they realized that their planned hit had gone wrong, and came looking for us again.

We pulled into the parking area in front of the converted house in Nahoon a few minutes later, where the Round Table operated from. I was pretty certain we hadn't been followed. As we rang the doorbell, we heard the buzzer on the gate and I pulled it open, letting Andre in first. There was a young well-dressed woman seated behind a high reception counter, and she smiled as we entered.

"Good morning!" she said cheerfully.

"Hi." I replied. "We were wondering if we could speak to the Chairperson of the Round Table?"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she smiled. "I'm afraid Mr. Emsky is not available. He is out of town on business."

"Do you know when he will be back?" Andre asked.

"Only next week, I'm afraid." She smiled.

"Is there anybody else we could talk to, someone who has a lot of dealings with the business community in East London, perhaps?"

"I'm afraid not." She smiled. "It's the weekend, we are really only here for administration purposes today."

I pulled the photograph of Alexei Titov out of my pocket, rolled it open, and showed it to her. "You wouldn't perhaps know this man, would you?"

She chuckled. "Of course," but then frowned immediately after. "What is this about, exactly?"

Andre smiled at her. "It may sound silly, but we are looking at donating a very large sum of money towards the Round Table's valiant charity efforts in East London, but friends of ours in Gauteng recommended that we deal only with this businessman. He couldn't remember his name, but he had a photograph and gave us a copy."

"Okay." She said, not entirely convinced, I thought. After a moment she sighed, then added: "Well, your friends were correct, that would be the man to discuss a large donation with. That, gentlemen, is Mr. Emsky himself!"

Andre and I both looked at each other in confusion. "I'm sorry?"

"Yes! Mr. Viktor Emsky, Chairperson of the Round Table. As I said though, he is out of town. Perhaps you would like to return on Monday?"

The irony of it all slammed us like a ton of bricks. Alexei Titov, aka Viktor Emsky, was hiding in plain sight as the leader of the most prestigious group of businessmen and professionals in town! How had he gone from an escaped prisoner, exiled to another country, to such an important and commanding financial position? Was his reach that long or were his coffers just incredibly deep?

"Will there be anything else?" she asked.

Andre and I both looked across at the receptionist at the same time.

"Um, no. Okay. That's fine, thank you. We will come and see Mr. Emsky on Monday then." Andre said, then paused and asked: "Tell me, is Viktor Emsky linked at all to Emsky Security?"

"Yes, he is." She smiled. "He is the CEO and founder."

"Thank you." he said, and led me through the door.

Emsky Security was the largest security firm in the Eastern Cape, possibly the country. They were famous for being the security company associated with the guarding of former President Nelson Mandela's rural complex in the Transkei, less than 200 kilometers from East London. They were also the current suppliers of bodyguards to National Assembly members, including the President, Jacob Zuma, and most of his chief delegates. If this was the United States, Emsky Security were like the Secret Service – only with less red tape and more muscle! And the man who was after us, who so badly wanted the power to control the future, not only his own, it now appeared, but also the future of the country, was the person assigned to protect our leaders! A man as untouchable as the President himself!

When we were inside the car, Andre slammed his hand on the dashboard.

"Fuck!" he stared at me with his eyes scrunched into tiny balls from anger. "Emsky Security is in charge of security at the University! The asshole has had access to everything I've been doing from day one! He must have known all along that the experiment was successful, that you completed a trip into the future, and that the Eye actually works! That's how they got onto us so quickly! He probably bugged my office, my lab, and my phones!"

"Okay calm down!" I said. "At least we now know who he is. What are we going to do about it?"

Andre started laughing. It was a giggle at first, but quickly ascended into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. "What are we going to do about it? Jesus, Lionel! Viktor Emsky controls half of this country! He employs more than three thousand security guards in the Eastern Cape alone! Across the country, it was more than fifty thousand!! He has eyes everywhere, and he protects the goddamned President! How much harder do you think he would be protecting himself, especially based on his history? We will never get near him! I bet his house is the South African version of Fort Knox!"

I rubbed my temples in frustration. Were we really up against this convicted murderer, ex Gestapo agent, with his army of employees and henchmen? If Andre was right there was no way we were getting anywhere near him. He was truly untouchable and we were outnumbered by thousands.

"So what do we do now?" I asked.

Andre sighed and shook his head. "We can try running?"

I laughed. "We tried that, remember? I told you what happened! It didn't turn out so good. Besides, where do we go to? If Emsky covers the entire country with his security services – we wouldn't get any further than we did the first time."

"So what do we do then? Do we just give up?" Andre asked. "Just hand him the research and the Eye and walk away?"

"It's not just the Eye that he wants." I said, as a realization suddenly dawned on me. "He needs you as well. You are the glue that holds everything together. Without you, he can't perfect what the Eye can do. Randomness is not Viktor's style! He needs you to perfect the landing point!"

"How could you know that?" Andre asked.

"It's obvious." I said. " If I think about it now, every time I've jumped there have been one of two things Viktor has wanted every time. The Eye, which was with me, and you, not just your research! He has had more than one opportunity to kill you, even right from the beginning, but he needs you. He had someone in your house when he killed Kim, for God's sake! At the garage when we were trying to leave town he had already taken the research from you. He could have just killed you right then and then come after me, but they took you. He knew about the experiments, he knew what the Eye could do, it also stands to reason then that he knew it wasn't perfect yet – and that without you, it may never be!"

"It sounds crazy." Andre replied.

"Ask yourself the question – Why does Viktor need the Eye?"

"To see the future. Rule the world." Andre said, "Why else would someone in his position need it?"

"And think about his position. He has the lives of the President, and the entire delegation in his hands. With one phone call, he could wipe out the current regime. It would be the biggest coup in human history! If he succeeded, he would own the richest mineral deposits in the world - gold, diamonds, coal, and platinum. Who could stand against him? With the power of the Eye behind him he would always know what was coming, and prevent it from happening. He could murder his enemy at the click of a button, because he would always know what they were up to, and where they were, probably before they even did!"

"Jesus." Andre whispered. "You're right. We need to get rid of the Eye before he gets his hands on it!"

"That's not going to help." I said. "The Eye is just the tool. You are the creator of the tool. He would still come for you, and Kim. In addition, now that I'm involved, Jackie and Nicole are still at risk as well. Yes, not having the Eye would delay him slightly, but it would make him more determined than ever that you build another one... and we've seen what his determination can do. We have to keep delaying him, it's the only way. As long as he is still hunting us, we may have a chance to fix this!"

"So what's the plan, then?" Andre asked, shaking his head. "I'm out of ideas."

"You need to perfect the Eye now." I said. "Make it work properly, so that we can control where it takes us, and I can use it first before Viktor gets his hands on it. If we can choose our destination we may be able to end this."

"Re-calibrating the Eye could take months!" Andre exclaimed. "And it may still not work properly, or at all!"

"We don't have months. We don't even have days. You need to do it today! Think, man! What are you missing to make it work?"

"I don't know..." Andre sighed. "You've shown some interesting frequency peaks in your CT scan this morning, and there is the issue you raised of having to be in actual physical contact with the Eye in your future-self. I'm not sure... maybe..."

"Maybe is better than nothing!" I said excitedly.

"If I include algorithms based on the Common Object theory, and then analyze the frequency peaks collected from the CT scan of your last visit 6 months into the future, and then tie them up to a sort of megahertz timeline... it may be possible!" I could hear an excitement creeping into his voice now, and it gave me renewed hope.

"Where to, my friend?" I asked, starting the Honda.

"Get me to a laboratory. Not mine. That would be too dangerous."

"I think I might know someone who could help us with that." I said, as we pulled out of the parking area and headed off towards the city.

"What happens if this doesn't work?" Andre asked.

Then we're fucked, I wanted to say, but said instead, "It will."

I wanted to believe that it would. I had to believe that it would.

The alternative was unthinkable.

### Chapter 38

Driving from Nahoon to Southernwood I couldn't help but notice how prominent Emsky Security was in the city. As we passed shopping centers and small businesses, we saw their security officers standing guard all over the place. The black and orange insignia was on signboards all over town; two white daggers crossed over a black shield. They had previously been invisible to me, but now that we knew that it was Viktor who owned the company - we could see them everywhere! This only increased the sense of paranoia we were already feeling, and we had to wonder if any of these security officers would recognize us and contact their boss, giving away our location. It also made me realize just how much influence Viktor Emsky had in East London. It was no wonder he was also the Chairman of the Round Table!

It was with some relief then that I noticed it was another security company, which had secured the tender for St. Dominic's Hospital, as we pulled up at the security gate. A short African female approached the car with a visitor's register.

"Good afternoon." She said as she handed me the book to sign. "Where are you going?"

"Microbiology" I replied. "Can you direct me?"

She pointed in the direction of the back end of the hospital, to a free-standing building. I thanked her as I handed the register back and then drove off towards it.

"What are we doing here?" Andre asked.

"You said you needed a lab, I'm going to get us one."

"At a private hospital?" he exclaimed. "How do you plan on doing that?"

"Call it a hunch." I said, as I found a parking spot near the Laboratory building. We climbed out and headed over to the front door. I pressed the intercom buzzer and the door buzzed open. We stepped inside; it was a pleasant change from the heat outside, as the air conditioners had cooled the reception area dramatically. An elderly white woman nodded at us as we entered.

"Can I help?" she asked, peering over her spectacles.

"I'm looking for one of the lab technicians." I said, "His name is Donovan Cooper?"

She nodded "Just a moment." She scanned what must have been an attendance register for technicians on duty for the day. "You're in luck. He is on duty. Can I call him for you?"

"Thank you." I said.

She picked up the phone and dialed an internal extension number. After a few moments, she put the phone down. "Take a seat; he will be with you shortly."

Andre and I sat down on the plastic covered chairs in the small waiting area. There was a table in the middle with a few magazines on, and I picked one up, browsing through it.

"Who is this Donovan Cooper?" Andre asked. "Is he a friend of yours?"

"Not yet." I smiled. "But he does become one."

Andre frowned at me. "What are you talking about?"

I put the magazine down on my lap and told Andre about how I had met Donovan Cooper during my last excursion with the Eye to March 2012.

"MMA fighting?" he asked, a look of extreme shock on his face. "You?"

"I know. It sounds crazy. Trust me it seemed that way for me as well."

"So you become a cage fighter?" he asked, a sly smile on his face.

"It's not that unbelievable!" I snorted.

"Okay, but what makes you think this 'friend' of yours is going to help us out? He doesn't even know you yet! He has never met you!"

"As I said, it's a hunch."

A door to the left of the waiting area buzzed open and a tall, stocky man exited. I recognized him immediately. His hair was longer, almost down to his shoulders, but the unmistakable jaw line and green eyes were immediately identifiable. I stood up as he approached.

"Mr. Cooper?" I asked, extending my hand.

He took it with a firm, cool grip. "Yes? Can I help you?"

"My name is Lionel Hesse, and I believe you can... if you can keep an open mind?"

He frowned and cocked his head slightly. "I'm sorry" he said. "Have we met before?"

I nodded. "We have, but I doubt you would remember. Are you still fighting MMA?"

He smiled. "Yes, I am. How...? Where do I know you from exactly?"

I looked around as the entrance door buzzed open and a couple entered, a middle-aged man and what could have been his daughter. I leaned in closer to Donovan. "Is there somewhere we can talk in private?"

I could tell that he was intrigued, as he nodded immediately and then gestured for us to follow him through the door he had just entered, after he swiped his access card. On the other side of the door, he led us down a long corridor and then entered a room two thirds of the way down on the left hand side. We were in a well-equipped laboratory filled with top of the range equipment, pristinely clean, and I could see Andre's excitement as he surveyed the room.

"What is this about?" Donovan asked, as he pulled up a stool and sat down. Even seated he was the same height, if not still slightly taller, than Andre and I.

"How passionate are you about new medical discoveries?" I asked.

"Extremely!" he replied. "I'm hoping to still be around, and hopefully a part of, the next big one. Why?"

I called Andre closer, and introduced him. "This is Andre North. He is the Chief Science Lecturer at the University of Fort Hare – and also a qualified Physicist."

Donovan shook Andre's hand with fervor, excited to meet a fellow scientist.

"We need your help..." I continued. "and your expertise."

"My expertise?" Donovan frowned. "I don't understand?"

"I really can't go into too much detail" I commented. "But it involves possibly the biggest discovery for Medical Science in the history of humankind. And I'm not exaggerating!"

"Really?" he asked.

I took the Eye out of my pocket, holding it up in my palm for him to see. He peered intently at the mirrored surface of it, an eyebrow rising in fascination. "What is it?"

"I call it the Kindling Photic-inducing Polaric Seizure model." Andre replied, stepping forward as the conversation turned to his department.

"Kindling?" Donovan asked. "As in the seizure model proposed in the 60's?"

Andre beamed with delight. "Yes! Exactly! It's great to finally be speaking to someone on the same page as me! No offence, Lionel."

I chuckled. "None taken. Yes, Donovan, this is a seizure inducing apparatus, which my good friend here designed. The problem is that it needs some minor adjustments, but we lost our access to the lab at the University and need a place – a laboratory – to make those few adjustments."

Donovan frowned. "You mean... here?" He shook his head slowly. "I'm not sure that I could... even that I would be authorized to..."

"Look" I interrupted his train of thought. "This unit is on the breaking edge of medical technology! I would not be exaggerating if I told you that it could potentially change the medical profession, as we know it – forever! If you could help us, Dr. North would be more than happy to name you as a key member of the team that designed and perfected it!"

"Yes." Andre added. "I would do that!" He leaned in closer to Donovan. "How old are you, Mr. Cooper?"

"Twenty-seven"

"Twenty-seven. Do you know how many scientists have their names attached to world changing medical discoveries at that age in the modern world?"

Donovan shook his head.

"Zero!" Andre exclaimed dramatically, making the shape of a circle with his thumb and forefinger. "None! You could be the youngest ever! Do you know what that would do for your career going forward? Unless you're just happy to be a Science Lab Technician here for the next twenty years, of course?"

Donovan frowned again. I could see the temptation was becoming too much for him, and he was fascinated by the image of the Eye in my hand. Keen as a scientist would be to delve deeper into the workings of it.

"How long would you need?" he finally asked.

"A couple of hours" Andre replied.

"We're closing up here in twenty minutes. Meet me at the rear of the building then, once everyone has left. I can give you a couple of hours, but no more than that!"

I grabbed Donovan's hand and shook it. "Thank you!"

"I'm risking my job on this!" he replied, squeezing hard and I winced briefly. "Don't screw with me!"

"It's not the MMA code." I smiled, in pain.

He chuckled and then let go of my hand. "Twenty minutes."

He led us out of the lab, back up the corridor and through to the reception area. He nodded goodbye and then headed back inside behind the secure door. Andre and I left the building and returned to the car. I drove out of the hospital grounds and into the street that ran behind the Lab building. I parked under a tree and switched the engine off.

"How did you know he would help us?" Andre asked.

"I recognized young ambition and fearlessness in him." I smiled. "You don't fight MMA in your spare time if you're not one ambitious son-of-a-bitch, afraid of nothing!"

"So it's ambition that drives you to take up MMA cage fighting next year as well?" he asked.

"No." I replied. "It's survival instinct - twice as deadly."

### Chapter 39

Twenty-five minutes later, we were re-entering the Laboratory building of St Dominic's hospital through the rear entrance. Andre was carrying his briefcase containing his laptop and research, and I had the Eye in my pocket. The building was deserted as Donovan led us through the rear receiving area and into the corridor, which led to his laboratory. Once we were inside, he closed the door behind us then rubbed his hands together excitedly.

"What do you need?"

"A spectrum analyzer- preferably the Anritsu MS" Andre replied, "As well as Tetra Polar electrodes and an EEG machine, possibly"

"No problem" Donovan smiled. "Anything else?"

"A stretcher"

Donovan frowned. "Why?"

Andre gestured at me. "Lionel is our test subject. Don't worry he has done this several times."

"Do you suffer from epilepsy?" Donovan asked me concernedly.

I shook my head. "No. It's a bit more complicated than that."

"I will also need a micro screwdriver," Andre added, sending Donovan off to collect all the equipment we needed. With Donovan gone, Andre removed the laptop and set it up on a nearby counter, pulling up a stool as he did so. By the time Donovan had wheeled the requested items closer on a large trolley, Andre was already busy loading his data on the laptop.

"Ready to go" Donovan said, wheeling a stretcher over to where we were positioned near the center of the room. "What can I do?"

"You can hold the KPPS," Andre said, gesturing at me to hand it to him, which I did.

Donovan held the Eye in position on the counter top where Andre was working. Andre picked up the micro screwdriver, which was a tiny screwdriver with a long shaft and a plastic gray and red handle, and inserted it into one of the two indentations on the Eye. He applied some pressure to an almost invisible line down the edge of the indentation and it popped open on tiny hinges like the roof of a convertible, as he gave the screwdriver a small twist. He repeated the same process for the other indentation, and soon both 'buttons' were standing out from the Eye like ears. He then twisted both protrusions in opposite directions and the Eye separated into two halves.

"Wow." I gasped. "That's pretty amazing."

Donovan was nodding in agreement. "Awesome."

Inside the two halves of the Eye, there was a multitude of wires, capacitors, resisters, and piezoelectric crystals. Andre extracted a short electrical jack connected to two wires from the Eye and joined them to the Tetra Polar electrodes that Donovan had supplied. He then connected the electrodes to the hand held spectrum analyzer and switched it on. The small color screen immediately showed a blue frequency line across the center of it, with a few peaks around the 15000Hz range.

"Okay" Andre said. "This is the range we are currently sending our voltage out on." He pulled out the paperwork from my CT scan earlier, showing me the graphs. "This morning you registered a peak of 24000Hz, approximately 30 seconds after you went under. The time span on that was approximately six months?"

I nodded.

"Just as cell phones work at different radio frequencies for different information, the brain resonates at different frequencies for spatial and temporal information. Our memories therefore set off different frequencies in our brains dependant on when the memory takes place. Assuming that your 24000Hz peak is accurately measured, the difference between the initial electrical introduction of 15000Hz, at present day, and the landing point of 24000Hz is equivalent to 9000Hz, right?"

"I am the Math geek." I smiled. "Full marks."

"So then we can assume that 9000Hz is equal to the time period of six months, give or take a few days. Break it down further and we are looking at 1500Hz per month travelled. Agree?"

"Yes. That's correct. 9000 divided by 6, will give you 1500."

"What exactly are you trying to achieve here?" Donovan asked, and Andre and I had been so wrapped up in what he was doing that I had almost forgotten he was there!

"We are trying to access a specific area of memory in Lionel's brain." Andre explained. "And we are hoping to do that by accurately syncing the frequency generated by the KPPS to the frequency in the timeline of that memory."

"That's amazing." Donovan said. "So this would benefit those suffering from memory loss or amnesia mostly?"

Andre nodded, although by the look he gave me I knew that he wasn't working the frequency to apply to memories from the past, but to memories from the future, only we couldn't tell Donovan that.

"So at what frequency should I be dialing the KPPS in?" Andre asked me. I realized that this was his way of finding out how far into the future I wanted to go on my next jump, without giving anything away to our new friend.

I had to step away for a moment and think about that. If the adjustments actually worked and the Eye could now send me to a more specific point in the future, when would the best place be to go to? I obviously still had to have the Eye in my hand at that point, so I reviewed all those times that I had already seen myself with the Eye in the future, and tried to analyze which one would best suit our needs. The most recent was three months from now, running down the alleyway with Andre. What would I achieve there? Would it bring us close to Viktor? Would it save any lives? I had to say no. It was still early days and although Viktor was there when we were taking refuge at the Kei Bridge garage, there were too many possible variables – too many bullets flying around, for example, to make that a viable option. One wrong step and I was dead and it was game over.

The second option was six months from now, when I had rescued Nicole from her captors and met Donovan. That had been a complete dead end, and I was not going to make any difference or changes by going back there. Then, finally, there was the hospital in 2013. This was when everything had fallen apart – Jackie was dead, Nicole would die, I would probably die as well. I was starting to realize that none of my options were looking particularly attractive right now. All three would just lead us full circle again and I wasn't ready to have to face any of those horrors a second time around!

Then I realised that I had left out one particular moment in my future, where I was certain I had to have been holding the Eye. The more I thought about it, the more sense it began to make! This point in time was before Jackie or Nicole had died, and now that we had sent Kim off to her sister, she was safe as well. I was also fairly certain that it would bring me within reach of the reclusive Viktor, or at least some of his key staff who might lead me to him. If I could go back there, I may not only finish things off with Viktor, but I might also be able to save both Jackie and Nicole's lives! The thought excited me, and I began to feel a rush of adrenalin course through my body. I was confident it would work! It was our only real option, anyway!

"40500Hz" I said, after doing the math in my mind.

"Okay." Andre said, and I could see him doing the arithmetic in his mind as well, and then counting on his fingers. "That's seventeen months. Am I right?"

I nodded. Andre scrunched his eyes as he calculated the exact month in the future, and then he suddenly opened them wide and stared at me.

"Are you sure?" he asked, and there was an undertone of concern in his voice.

"Definitely" I said. "Without doubt"

He stared at me for a moment, and I could sense he was trying to find even the tiniest hint of hesitation in my eyes or body language or demeanor – any little crack in my façade, which would convince him not to let me do it. He nodded eventually. "Okay."

He used the micro screwdriver to twist one of the components in the Eye and the screen of the spectrum analyzer showed the Hz peak moving from the 15000Hz mark to the 40500Hz mark. It was a louder frequency, almost audible with the human ear, and the entire unit was buzzing softly.

"It may not be 100 percent accurate," he warned, as he twisted the two parts of the Eye together again. "Remember this is a theory... there are no guarantees!"

With deft fingers, he clipped the two protruding ears back into place on the now complete unit, and they made an audible click as they fell into position. He handed the Eye back to me, and as I took it in my hand, I could feel it vibrating ever so softly in my palm. It was almost as if it had come alive and was no longer just an inanimate object. The joins that separated the two halves were so finely crafted that I couldn't even see them with the naked eye. It looked just like it had the first time I had seen it – just a shiny, round, reflective ball.

"So what do we do now?" Donovan asked. From the way Andre and I looked at each other, I was sure he knew it wasn't going to be an easy answer for either of us.

"Now we test it out." I said, breaking the silence that had started forming, and giving Andre no other option other than to agree with me.

He nodded, and then gestured at the stretcher. "Lie down."

Donovan supported the stretcher as I climbed on and I lay back with my head on the built in makeshift pillow. Andre came around to the other side, taking my hand into his.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, and I heard heartfelt concern in his voice. "There may be no way back now that the frequencies have been modified."

"Whoa!" Donovan objected. "What are you talking about? Is this going to be dangerous? I don't think we should be-"

I held up my hand. "It's okay, buddy. Relax. I'll be fine."

There was no turning back, and I wasn't about to give myself time to chicken out, or let anyone else do it for me. Before he could protest any further, I pressed down on the hidden buttons in the Eye with the fingers of my right hand, and then closed my eyes and waited for my welcome party.

### Chapter 40

I noticed the difference immediately. The velocity of the electrical current that passed up through my hand, into my neck and then attached itself to the base of my skull like a bloodsucking leach was ten times more potent than it had ever been! I was feeling physical pain as the current wrapped itself around my brain from below, spider tentacles crawling, grabbing, and squeezing as if they were trying to crush my soft tissue from the inside! I wanted to scream out loud, but for some reason I couldn't find my voice. My entire body seemed to disappear, and I was left alone in the lightning chamber of my mind with only my terrified thoughts as company.

It was killing me! I was certain of it. We had taken it too far, pushed beyond the boundaries of what we thought was safe. I was going to die in this mind storm, and it was going to be a slow and painful death!

Then the storm subsided. It faded out, as music does when you slowly lower the volume, until there was nothing to hear anymore except complete and utter silence. The darkness covered the bright flashes of light until they were gone, and then it was only me and it. The small speck of light approached me with so much more speed this time, rushing at me out of the darkness like a train in a tunnel. It stopped in front of my inner vision, spinning wildly around like the whirly dragon firecrackers we used to light at Guy Fawkes. It changed from bright white to a pale blue, and then to the crystal clear blue of the ocean, in the shape of an eye, more intensely detailed than ever before, the small streak of red across the pupil a high definition contrast against the darkness behind it.

The Eye did not blink immediately this time. It stared at me, for a long moment instead, not moving. No, it glared at me. It seemed angrier, more sinister, and almost evil. I had the impression we had somehow awakened a beast, and it was pissed off! I tried averting my gaze, but there were no eyelids in the place where I was, and I could not tear my vision away from it...

Finally, it blinked.

The world that came to greet me on the other side did not come quietly in the night. It was as if I had been watching the blank screen of a television that was off, and that someone suddenly clicked the remote and turned it on – bright colors, volume blaring... enough sensation to make me physically jump. For a moment, I tried to comprehend what I was seeing... It was a road, no, a highway. It was nighttime. At the sides of my vision the world was flashing past in a grey blur, while in front of me lights were getting closer and closer, and there was that sound... that irritating honking sound... blaring at me to move, move, move.

Jesus!

I yanked the steering wheel hard to the left, dropping the Eye that I had been holding in one hand as I drove. It thudded against the floorboards at my feet. The force of the car swerving to the left physically jammed me up against the door to my right, slamming my head against the window with enough force to cause me to see tiny stars. I could hear the screeching of tires as they protested against the sudden change in direction, and then the oncoming headlights rushed past, missing me by only inches. In front of me, the grey metal of guard-rails reflected my own headlights back at me, and I had to brace myself against the back of my seat as the car slammed into them, then lifted into the air. The feeling of weightlessness as I became airborne, and then the view through the windscreen was of bush, grass, and trees, approaching fast from below.

The impact as the car slammed into the ground, nose first, deployed the airbag, and it hit me solidly in the face, while my chest rammed into the seatbelt that was holding me in place. The windscreen shattered immediately and the impact ripped it clean out of position, crushing it underneath as the car spun head over heels, completely disorienting me. It crashed into the ground on its roof, and then slid for what seemed an eternity along the ground. Leaves, sand, and branches rushed past the windows to the sides and the terrible sound of metal protesting, as it was bent, scratched, and torn apart filled my ears. After what seemed an eternity there was a solid thud and the car rocked to a grinding standstill.

Dust had filled the interior of the car, and I found myself physically swallowing and breathing it in, to the point that I thought I was going to choke to death on it. Then it settled, and the only sounds I could hear thereafter were the ticking of the warm stalled engine, and the frantic spinning of a tire on its axle somewhere above me.

I spat out the sand that had found its way into my mouth, along with a trace of blood from where I had bit my lip, and then felt around near my waist for the release button of the safety belt. I pressed it in when I found it, and it immediately dropped me onto my head on the roof of the car. I groaned and rolled myself over into a crawling position. As I crawled towards the missing windscreen, my knee knocked the Eye, which I had let fall earlier and it rolled past me. I picked it up in one hand and continued crawling out of the wreck.

I put some distance between the car, and myself and then collapsed flat on my stomach in the sand and grass. I must have passed out, because when I came to later the sound of the spinning tire had stopped and the engine was no longer ticking. I rolled over onto my back, looking up at the beautiful sight of the Milky Way as it spanned the sky above me. With some effort, I sat up straight and surveyed the desolate area around me.

The car was on its roof. It was a strange sight in the night, a light unnatural shape against the surrounding dark shrubbery. I could see the grill, although buckled and misshapen, was that of a Chevrolet. It was a silver car, and I had no idea whose it was, or how I had come to be driving it. I dusted the sand off my neck and shoulders, and then tried to stand up. I was relieved to discover that I wasn't badly hurt. I had a bump on the head, but aside from that, I couldn't find anything else wrong with me. It had been a miracle of sorts that I had managed to crash into this open piece of veld - mostly soft grasses and sand -, which had broken my fall. There were a few small trees around, but I had managed to avoid them all. I traced the line of flattened grass and upturned soil back from the car to an embankment, which led up to a road. I heard a car pass by at high speed and watched as the path of light from its headlights briefly lit up the area, but there was no sign that anybody aside from the driver of the truck that I had almost collided with had seen my accident. He hadn't bothered to stop either.

I made my way towards the embankment, climbing it on all fours until I reached the top. I had taken out a section of the guard-rail in the accident, but it was not immediately obvious from the road, as there were no skid marks or broken glass lying around near the gap in the barrier. I was trying to figure out my location, but it was pitch dark up on the road and I had no idea where or when I was. I looked down the dark tarmac towards the right; it was the direction I had been coming from before the accident. There were no distant headlights to be seen. I figured the only option for me was to keep heading left, so I started walking. I had no idea what the date was, or which year I was in. The adjustments Andre had made on the Eye were intended to land me in February of 2013, but whether they had or not, I could not say.

It was a cool evening, and I was wearing only a t-shirt and jeans, with a pair of black and white Nike sneakers. I was thankful for the shoes right now, as they made the walk along the rough tarmac bearable. I had to hug myself repeatedly, rubbing my arms to keep them warm.

The road in front of me started lighting up, and I could see a long shadow of myself forming on the tar ahead of me. The dull drone of tires on the road made me turn and look behind me. A car was approaching at high speed. As it neared, I started waving my arms wildly. The driver had his bright lights engaged, and they were blinding me. I shielded my eyes as I waved, hoping to get the driver to stop and pick me up, but he sped past me in a flash, the red taillights disappearing into the night over a small hill. I cursed under my breath, but realized that the days of picking up hitchhikers in the middle of the night had long since disappeared. When I had been in the military in 1992, it was still safe for one to hitch hike across the country. I recalled times when I had hitch hiked more than a thousand kilometers from Johannesburg to East London when I had received a weekend pass, and then hitch hiked back again on the Sunday. People used to stop in those days, but nowadays it was too dangerous. Crime was at its highest peak, and picking up strangers on the side of the road was a sure-fire recipe for hijacking and theft – sometimes even murder.

I had resigned myself to a long walk, and as I reached the top of the hill, which the previous car had disappeared over, I was delighted to see the orange glow of a town ahead in the distance. It was still too far and alien to figure out which town I was approaching, but it gave me hope and I quickened my pace. As I started my descent on the other side of the hill, I heard another vehicle approaching from behind. It was a driving a lot slower than the previous one, and I turned to face it, waving my arms again.

This time the vehicle slowed down when it saw me. As it came closer, I could see that it was a pick-up van of some sort, and just as it passed me the brake lights came on and it pulled over about a hundred meters ahead of me. I started jogging towards it and then stopped as I reached the passenger window. It wound down and I peered inside. The driver was an older, overweight man, with an overgrown beard, wearing khaki shorts and long socks, a button up khaki shirt tucked into the shorts.

"Hi." I panted breathlessly, and the man nodded.

"Where are you going this late at night?" he asked in a thick Afrikaans accent.

I gestured back down the road. "I had some car trouble..." I replied.

"Get in." he grunted, and I opened the door not needing a second invitation. He pulled off again and we were soon driving in a dark, comfortable silence. "Where you headed?"

"East London." I replied, hoping that was actually where this road was going, or otherwise I would look, and sound, like a moron. I had the Eye in my hand still, and tucked it between my legs, out of sight.

"Oh." He said. "Well, it's only a few kilometers away."

I needed to find out what year it was, but I also wanted to do it in a way that wouldn't freak the man, who was obviously a farmer, out. As I was trying to find a way to phrase my question, the farmer spoke.

"Thank the Lord they haven't started this e-tolling nonsense in the Eastern Cape yet!"

My heart bounced in my chest. I remembered reading about E-tolling in the newspaper when I had been in hospital in 2013! I was excited that the adjustments made to the Eye had worked! It appeared I had reached the right year!

"Yes." I replied. "There is always something new, hey? What day is it? I get so mixed up with the days!"

He chuckled. "It's Sunday. February 10th."

The digital clock on the dashboard of the pick-up read 23h25. My heart started racing in my chest as I realized this was the night Jackie would die!

### Chapter 41

We reached the outskirts of East London about 25 minutes later, and as the pick-up exited the N6 and approached the large traffic circle at the end of the highway, which indicated the start of the North East Expressway, I realized where we had been driving from. The N6 was the road that linked Queenstown and East London, and I had been heading towards East London before the accident, which meant I had been coming from any one of the towns along that route – Stutterheim, Cathcart, Queenstown or maybe even from as far as Aliwal North.

The farmer, whose name I had learnt was Jaco. He owned a small farm just outside Cathcart and was on his way to Port Elizabeth to buy fresh vegetable for his farm stall from the Market. Stopping at the traffic circle, he asked,

"Which way?" he asked.

Left around the circle would lead to Beacon Bay, and that was where Jackie would be, so I pointed that way. He turned left and within a few minutes, we were passing Retail Park, the largest mall in the Bay, and then we were at the intersection of Edge Rd. I indicated that he could just pull over and drop me there. As I climbed out of the pick-up, I thanked him for the lift.

"No problem" he replied, and then drove off towards the city.

I started walking down Edge Rd towards number 49. It was a fair distance, at least a kilometer, and it took me almost twenty minutes to get there. By the time I reached the low surrounding walls of the property, I was feeling the cold. It was still summer in South Africa in February, but the seasons were changing and one could feel it in the coolness of the African evenings.

The house was in darkness. I couldn't shake the hollow sensation in the pit of my stomach as I slid the driveway gate open and approached the front door. It wasn't just the eeriness of the house at this time of the night, or the fact that I would probably be the last person Jackie would want to see right now. It was also the gnawing fact in the back of my mind that by all accounts tonight may well be the last time I would see Jackie alive again! I sucked in my breath and then rang the doorbell.

It chimed inside, and after a few moments, the porch light came on. I could hear her footsteps on the other side of the door, and then the curtain at the side window opened up and she peered out at me. I smiled and waved. She stood looking at me for a long while, before she finally closed the curtain, and I heard the latch of the front door being undone. She opened it up just a crack, still attached to the security chain.

"Hey." I said.

"What do you want here?" she asked, pulling her pink nightgown tighter around her body. "It's the middle of the night."

"I know. Can I come in? I need to talk to you about something."

She shook her head. "Are you crazy?"

I frowned, confused. "No, I just need to-"

"Do you know that Kim has disappeared?" she interrupted me. "And do you know that Andre has also disappeared?"

I nodded. I knew where Kim was supposed to be, in Lichtenburg where Andre had sent her off to stay with her sister, and as for Andre, I could only assume that he was still missing from the time they took him at the Kei Bridge garage. "Yes."

"And do you know that they found my car trashed and shot full of holes somewhere in the Transkei?"

I nodded again.

"Do you realize the shit storm of questions I had to answer about what had happened to it? Not just from the police, but from other security officers as well?"

I sucked in my breath. "Security officers? What security officers?"

"Are you even listening to me?" she asked loudly, "My best friends are missing, and you wrecked my car! And now you want to come inside and chat?"

"I understand all that" I replied, "And I can understand why you are upset, but you have to listen to me... those security officers that came to question you, what did they say? You might be in danger!"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh Jesus, Lionel! Get over yourself! The only danger I see myself in is from you!" She started closing the door and I pushed against it.

"Wait, Jax..."

"Let go of the door!" she screamed. "I will call the police on you, Lionel, I swear to God!"

"Call them!" I shouted. "Please do!" I was being serious, but it must have come across as threatening, because Jackie shoved suddenly and slammed the door closed. I banged on it desperately, begging her to open up, but she was not responding. After a few moments, the porch light switched off again. Without hesitation, I ran to the side of the house, through the small side gate, which led to the back yard and up the stairs to the back door. I tried the handle, but it was locked. I called out to her, loud enough that she would hear, but not wanting to wake the neighbors up; she wasn't responding. I was about to head back around to the front of the house again, when I heard the crunch of tires in the street out front and then car engines being switched off.

I crept towards the separating wall between front and back yards and peered over it. In the street outside two black Land Rover SUV's had parked on the sidewalk and in the driveway. As I watched, the doors opened and a small army of black clad men, their faces hidden by balaclava's, climbed out. Most of them were carrying semi-automatic AK-47 rifles, and they were all wearing bulletproof vests. They huddled together near the front gate, as one man gave out orders to the others. I counted eight men in total. The leader, who was indicating to one of the men to stand near the vehicles and keep an eye out, then pointed to the right hand side of the house and sent two others in that direction, and they promptly vaulted over the low wall and headed off that way. He then pointed towards the left, where I was hiding, and sent another two towards me. The three remaining headed for the front door!

I ducked down and backtracked into the yard. I knew I had very little time, and that I was completely unprepared for this small army of killers, so there was no point in trying to keep things quiet any more. I took a few steps backwards, faced the back door of the house, and then ran up the six short stairs to the landing, before jumping and raising my foot in front of me. I connected squarely with the door just to the left of the handle, and the force smashed the lock free from the wooden edging, crashing the door open with a bang. The muddy impression of my footprint remained on the door. I ran inside, turning left into the kitchen. I looked around wildly, as I knew I had to hide the one thing they were here for... the Eye! There was enough of a green glow from the digital timer on the microwave for me to notice the dish rack on the sink had a few washed cups, plates and cutlery in it, and I dropped the Eye into it, between the cups. From where I stood, and in the dim light, it looked like an overturned ashtray or silver mug.

I bolted through the archway into the dim light of the living room and almost immediately ran into Jackie, who was holding a baseball bat above her head, her eyes wild with fear. I barely had time to duck my head as she swung it downwards towards me, the tip of it glancing off the side of my head, not hard enough to knock me out, but enough to make me lose my balance and go sprawling onto the rug. She spun around and was coming at me with it again. As I started to yell at her to wait, the front door burst open and the two gunmen stormed into the house.

She swung around in surprise, losing her momentum, and before she could even open her mouth to scream one of the gunmen had his hand around it and was pulling her backwards towards the sofa. I started getting to my feet, ready to hurl myself at the man who had taken her, when one of the other intruders who had entered the house behind me raised his rifle above his head and cracked the butt down against my skull. My head filled with flashing lights, and I found myself blinded and disorientated for a moment. I tried to get up from my knees, but the room swung wildly, as a dark curtain seemed to descend over my vision, bringing me crashing to the floor.

### * * *

I came around a few minutes later, my head was pounding from the double beating it had taken, first at the hands of Jackie's baseball bat, and then from the butt of the AK-47. I opened my eyes, and the lighting in the living room seemed particularly bright, even though the only source of light was coming from a table lamp next to the three-seater sofa. I was seated in the single seater sofa, the one that had always been my favorite. Jackie was seated next to one of the gunmen on the two-seater. I started getting up to go to her, but the sound of a rifle cocking to my right made me freeze in mid motion. I looked up at another gunman who had his rifle pointed at my head. He waved his finger from side to side – no.

I sat back in the chair, surveying the rest of the living room. Another two gunmen were standing near the archway that led to the kitchen, and in the three-seater across from me sat a third man, legs crossed and his rifle leaning up against the sofa. He uncrossed his legs as I watched him, and then leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. They were all still wearing their balaclava's, and this man raised his arm, then pulled his balaclava off, revealing a familiar face, yet older than I recalled based on the picture I had seen of him.

Viktor Emsky smiled at me, and then started clapping his gloved hands together slowly.

### Chapter 42

I was clenching the muscles in my jaw at the sight of the man who had been the center of my pain and suffering since waking up in the hospital what seemed like so many long days or weeks ago. This was the closest I had come to him since the beginning, and it was taking every fiber of my being not to leap out of this chair and strangle him with my bare hands, regardless of whether or not I would be filled with hot lead in my attempt! I could feel my face warming from the anger that was seeping up through my skin right now.

"Do you know what the karakurt is?" Viktor Emsky, asked me suddenly, leaning forward and peering at me intently, as if my answer would be the solution to world hunger. His accent was deeply Russian, but it had developed the slightest African twang over his twelve or so years in the country.

I stared at him, not responding, defiant.

"Let me tell you." He nodded. "The karakurt is one of the world's ten most dangerous spiders. It is found only in Russia, in the Astrakhan Region. They hide mostly in the ravines around that area, and come out mostly at night."

"That's lovely." I said. "What's next on Discovery? Extreme Ice Road Truckers?"

Viktor waved my sarcasm off with one hand and continued. "When the karakurt manages to bite a human, the pain is so intense that you wish for instant death! However, as is the nature of a spider, there is no such thing as a quick ending for its victims. You see, if you are unlucky enough to be bitten by the karakurt, you are almost certainly in one of the remotest parts of Russia. There are no hospitals, or doctors or even people, for hundreds of miles! The bite of the karakurt means a certain, yet long and painful death." He stood up suddenly and approached me, and I found my muscles tensing as my instincts were screaming at me to pounce on him. The gunman to my right must have sensed my anticipation and pressed the muzzle of the rifle against my neck, a cold hard sensation.

Viktor rolled up the sleeve on his left arm, over his wristwatch and up towards the elbow. In the region where the forearm extended from the elbow there was an enormous, grotesquely misshapen hole, which almost penetrated to the bone of his arm, about the size of a grapefruit, giving his arm a deformed profile. The skin around the edges of it was black and dead looking.

"You see this?" He said. "This is the result of the bite of a karakurt spider, and you may think that it is terrible and disgusting, but I find it very beautiful!"

I raised an eyebrow, the man was obviously unstable.

"Do you know why it is beautiful to me?" he asked.

"It reminds you of your mother's face?" I asked, and the Russian's eyes danced with anger briefly, even though he made no acknowledgement.

"It is beautiful because it reminds me that I am a survivor, and that even when the odds are stacked against me I can overcome them; with courage and with patience." He sighed deeply, and then returned to his seat, rolling the sleeve back down. "You remind me of that spider."

I nodded. Was the man giving me a compliment? Did he not realize I wanted to rip his goddamned head off?

"A little bit because you are sneaky and like to hide in the cracks of the ravine," he continued, "but also a little bit because in the end, ultimately, you realize you cannot defeat me. But mostly..." he paused to remove a Zippo lighter from his pocket and a pack of cigarettes, lighting one and puffing out blue smoke in my direction. "Mostly you remind me of this spider because even after you have annoyed me to no end with your little bite, eventually you end up just a smear of spider glob in the palm of my hand." He raised his right palm, and then closed it into a fist to emphasize his dramatic disclosure.

"What do you want?" I asked, impatiently.

Viktor chuckled. "What do I want? You don't know?"

"No." I lied. "I don't."

Viktor smiled, and it was a cold and impersonal image. "You know, your friend, Andre, has been very obliging. Yes, it took a bit of persuasion, not so gentle of course, but in the end, he was very helpful. You see, I have this problem, and he has the solution to my problem. In my country, you can only be successful if you are stronger than your enemies. For a long time I thought I was the strongest of them all, but unfortunately, I was misguided, so when I came to this beautiful, young country many years ago I realised that I had to do things differently here. Yes, you must still be strong, but you must also be patient!" He pointed at his now covered left arm "Patient enough to wait, as the karakurt spider does, before you ambush your victim. Your leaders..." he chuckled to himself. "Your leaders are like little children! When you give a child an expensive toy he has no concept of its value, he sees only the shiny parts, and he plays roughly with it until, one day, he breaks the toy, and then it lies discarded under the bed while he moves on to the next shiny one."

As much as I detested the man, I had to admire his analogy of the politics in South Africa.

"But then, one day, another child comes along, and he finds the toy that his friend has discarded, and to him it is still a beautiful object, one that only needs a bit of attention before it can work again. What you and your scientist friend have given me is the tools to fix that broken toy."

I couldn't help but swallow hard at his observation. Andre and I had theorized over the possible reasons that Viktor was so determined to get his hands on the Eye and the research around it, and now it appeared that our fears and assumptions had been accurate.

"Mr. North has been kind enough to try and keep you out of this mess. He is a good friend, no? You see, when he eventually came to understand how important it was to help me, he tried to reproduce what he had created the first time, but unfortunately, it was not successful. The first unit that he built, the one you have been keeping from me for so long, was special and unique, and no matter how hard I motivated him he just could not repeat his genius work a second time! This was frustrating of course – for me, but mostly for him – and in the end, I realized that the shortest route to my goal would be to find the original, but you..." He chuckled again. "You have been so sneaky!"

"I don't have the KPPS anymore." I said. "I got rid of it."

Viktor laughed out loud. "No, you did not."

"I swear I did!" I lied. "I threw it into the ocean."

"Well, that is a shame." He shrugged. "I was really hoping that we could come to a mutual agreement without any hassle..." He stood up now, and approached me again. "Perhaps you need a new perspective." He gestured to one of the gunmen near the arch in the kitchen and he swiftly headed out the front door. After a few moments, he returned and I turned to see him pushing someone else through the door in front of him.

I almost jumped out of my seat with joy at the sight of Andre North, at the fact that he was still alive. My elation quickly turned sour as I noticed how worn out he looked. He was emaciated, and looked as if he had lost twenty kilograms since the last time I had seen him! His beard was long and scraggly, his hair unkempt, and his eyes were sunken into his skull behind the spectacles, the skin on his face drooping and pallid. He smiled momentarily as he saw me, but then quickly averted his gaze as he was led past Jackie and I to the seat where Viktor had sat earlier.

"Your friend here" Viktor was saying to Andre, "and his very beautiful ex wife, have decided not to give me what I am looking for. I was hoping you could persuade them otherwise?"

Andre peered up at me from the sofa, so fragile and frightened. "Give them the Eye. Please." he said, and his voice was that of an old and tired man.

There was a genuine quality to the tone of his plea and this threw me off balance for a moment. I frowned. How badly had they broken him down so that he would be willing to give up his prize possession so easily? I shook my head with determination though, knowing that even though Andre spoke one way, that deep down inside he would want me to stand my ground. "It's gone, man. I'm sorry!"

Viktor stood between Andre and me, looking at each of us in turn, as if he sensed the unspoken agreement between us. He finally approached me again, after realizing I wasn't going to let up. "Let me just inform you that nothing changes, whether you give me the KPPS or not, it does not matter! Eventually, even if it takes another twenty years, your friend here will duplicate the results he had with his first attempt, or die trying. I can wait, either way. There is no rush for me. But for you... and your woman..." he walked over to Jackie and lifted her head up by the hair. She screamed in protest. "...I may not have the same patience."

He let her hair go and then gestured for the gunman who had brought Andre in from outside to take him back to the car. After the door had closed behind them, he sat on the couch again. For a long moment, he said nothing, and then he nodded at the remaining gunman in the archway, who disappeared down the hallway to the bedrooms. He returned a few moments later, carrying a black leather belt, which I recognized immediately, and which sent a chill down my spine.

I tried to get up, but the gunman to my right hit me in the head again with the rifle, harder this time, and I sat back down, clutching my skull in pain.

The gunman who had been sitting next to Jackie now stood up and dragged Jackie across the center of the living room. She started struggling against him, but he quickly wrapped his huge arms around her and carried her over to where I could see her clearly. There was a fear in her eyes, a fear that I had never seen before. She was kicking her legs desperately, but this giant of a man had her lifted completely off the floor. The second gunman made a loop in the leather belt, and then slipped it around her fragile neck.

She started sobbing uncontrollably, and the sound was breaking my heart.

"So you are sure you do not want to give me the KPPS?" Viktor asked, but I could barely focus on his voice right now.

I stared at Jackie for a long time. This was the hardest decision I would ever have to make! If I gave up the Eye now would it save her life? Would they let us go? Would Viktor let us live even though we knew who he was, and what he had done? I doubted that. In fact, I was 100% certain that, the second he had the Eye in his hands, he would kill us both anyway. I then would have to think about what would happen once he had the Eye! What were his plans going to be? How many countless lives would be lost in his twisted plan to overthrow the South African government? How different would our lives be afterward, under the rule of a tyrant with infinite power?

"No." I gasped eventually and my words were hard as rocks to spit out. They were laced with the invisible tears of angels as the sacrifices I would have to make, sunk in. "I don't have it to give to you, even if I wanted to."

Viktor sighed and then nodded at the gunmen who restrained Jackie. The one, who held the end of the belt around her neck, abruptly pulled it tight, extending his arms above his head so that she dangled like a marionette, kicking, gasping, and clawing at her neck.

I was screaming louder than I had ever screamed before, pulling the emotion from the pit of my stomach, and lacing it with the memories of every second of the lives she and I had shared together! It was the sound of a banshee, loud enough to flatten houses and explode living beings... except, in reality, no sound was coming out of my mouth, as I watched her kicking against the choke hold, kicking and fighting, and then not fighting anymore, and finally not kicking anymore either.

### Chapter 43

She hung from the large hands of her masked killer, lifeless and unmoving. Her face had turned an ugly purple shade, as the oxygen had been cut off from her lungs and then her brain. Her pink nightgown had come undone in her struggles, and she was wearing only a panty underneath, her shapely, lifeless breasts exposed for all to see. I couldn't believe the strength of the man who was holding her up, but then he was twice her size, and she was a petite woman.

Viktor had approached her now, where she hung, and he placed his hand on her dead breast, squeezing the nipple briefly.

"Such a pity." He sighed.

He nodded at the gunman who was holding her, and he let go of the belt, dropping her to the floor in a heap, where she fell on her side, a lock of hair falling across her face. The lack of respect he showed for the life he had just taken was enough to make me want to throw up. It just confirmed how cruel and unemotional the people associated with Viktor, and especially Viktor himself, could be. He walked over to where I stood now, his face barely inches from mine.

"Do you have any family, Lionel?" he asked me.

I shook my head.

"That's right." He nodded. "Your parents both passed many years ago and you have no siblings. But then what about Jackie? She has a brother, no? Alistair? Oh, and he has such a wonderful wife as well... what was her name again, oh yes, Naomi, and their two year old daughter, Kaitlin. And then let's not forget the lovely Mrs. North who is with her sister Lynette up in Lichtenburg; and, of course, most importantly, your new best friend, Nicole."

At the mention of her name, I could feel the blood draining from my face. How could he know about her, about any of them?

"You see, Mr. Hesse, there will not be a day that goes by for the rest of your life that you will not be regretting your decision today. You will attend more funerals over the next year than one man should ever have to attend in his lifetime. Every friend you make will die mysteriously. Every neighbor will lose a child. Every pet will suddenly disappear. It will be my tribute to you, for as long as you live."

I lunged at him suddenly, and if it wasn't for the quick reflexes of the man to my right, I would have had him by the throat and I would have been strangling him to death. He took a step backwards, and clapped his hands again.

"Such passion!" he laughed. "If only you had put it to better use by giving me what I wanted in the first place..."

I spat at him, as it was the only way I could think of to reach him while the giant of a man was holding me back. He wiped the spit from the side of his face nonchalantly and smiled at me.

"I will leave you in the hands of my good friend here." He said as he picked up his rifle, gesturing at the man who had strangled Jackie. "And don't be too concerned about me going forward. In Russia, we have a saying: Бе́шеной соба́ке семь вёрст не крюк, which means 'For a mad dog, seven miles is not a long detour.' See you soon, my friend." He patted me on the shoulder as he headed towards the front door, and then out into the night beyond it.

The guy who Viktor had referred to, the one who had strangled Jackie, went into the kitchen, and for a brief terrifying moment, I almost thought he'd be coming out of it with the Eye, which I had hidden there, but he appeared again holding one of Jackie's Arcos kitchen knives in his hand. It was a butcher knife, and part of the set I had bought for her many years ago. The rest of the gunmen had left with Viktor, and it was only the guy holding me and the one who had strangled Jackie, who remained behind. He approached me, standing toe to toe. Almost in slow motion, he removed his balaclava, and the face that appeared from behind the mask was one you would find in horror movies. It was scarred, disfigured, and broken, as if parts of it had been removed, and then put back out of sequence. It was difficult to look at for an extended period of time.

"Do you remember me?" he asked, and spittle flew from his mouth as he tried to say the words, which were muffled and unclear through his permanently slanted lips. I looked into his eyes, one of which was blind and opaque.

I shook my head.

"My name is Artur" he said.

Somewhere beneath the mess of his face, I could now see the face of the man who had held Nicole captive back in 2012. This was the man who I had beaten to within an inch of his life, and then injected him with an overdose of cocaine. I couldn't believe he had survived that day, but the consequences of what he had endured remained as witness.

I nodded and smiled. "You bruised my knuckle once."

Artur curled his upper lip up in anger, then leaned in with his creature mouth next to my ear, and whispered, "When I find her, I will make sure she ends up looking just like me. We will make such a wonderful couple!" He laughed and it was a deep and melancholy sound.

The pain that followed had me curling my legs up beneath me. The big guy holding me from behind held me erect. Looking down at my abdomen, I could see the handle of the butcher knife protruding from it. I screamed in pain, as Artur held the knife by the handle, then twisted the blade once and pulled it out suddenly. A stream of blood followed shortly afterwards, spraying out onto the contrasting cream of the Belgotex carpet. My insides were on fire, and I could immediately feel myself weakening as the blood left my body from the wound. The gunman behind me let me go, and I collapsed to the floor, facing Jackie. I tried to reach out my hand to touch hers, but every movement I made was agony. I watched helplessly as Artur wiped the handle of the knife down, and then placed it in Jackie's hand. He stepped over me and switched off the tableside lamp, sending the room into darkness, and then the two of them left the house silently, as if they had never been there, and closed the door behind themselves.

For the longest moment I lay staring at the face of my ex wife in the moonlight that filtered in through the front windows of the house. I had come back here hoping to prevent this from happening, but it seemed that Andre's predictions had been true... you cannot change the future already seen. I had been so convinced that I could make a change, firstly when I had saved Kim's life, and when I had rescued Nicole, but all that I had really done was set in motion the events that would lead to this very moment here... the moment I thought I would never have to see again. Jackie on the floor, lifeless and strangled, and me as I bled to death from a knife wound. Would this all go full circle now? Would my next waking moment be in the hospital bed at St Dominic's, chained like an animal and accused of her murder? Was this some sick rollercoaster ride that would never end, continuously looping around forever and ever, endlessly, on its tracks?

I could taste my own blood in my mouth. It made me gag, which only further increased the pain in my abdomen as I strained against the temptation to throw up. I forced myself onto all fours eventually and tried to make my way through to the kitchen. I was not going to pass out and let this loop begin all over again! How many times was one man expected to lose the people he loved? As I reached the end of the carpet and touched the tiles in the kitchen, my bloodied hands slipped and I fell hard onto my face. I lifted myself up again by my elbows and crawled on all fours the rest of the way across the floor, leaving a trail of leaking blood in my wake. When I reached the cabinet below the sink, I grabbed onto the handle, and pulled myself up into a sitting position. I felt with one hand in the dish rack, trying to find the smooth surface of the Eye in the dark, I felt it eventually and lifted it out, but in the process knocked the dish rack over, sending cups and plates smashing to the floor around me.

I turned and started crawling back towards the living room. When I reached the carpet in the living room, I had to lie down from exhaustion, and then physically drag my non-responding body by the arms further into the room. I needed to get to the front door - I needed to get outside. I was burning up for some reason, and I couldn't stay in this room for one second longer! I had given myself a more challenging task than I had imagined, and by the time I was close to where Jackie lay, I just couldn't go any further. I collapsed onto the carpet, my face turned to the side away from Jackie, one hand behind me and the other in front of me - holding the Eye.

I looked beyond the Eye in my hand, at the doorway that seemed a million miles away. It was so close, but at the same time so far. I tried to see through the crack below the door, tried to see outside and maybe find some sign of salvation. It was too dark, and the crack in the door just stared back at me like a long-eyed creature of the night. I focused my blurring vision instead on the Eye in my hand. It stared back at me, a silver dead eyeball, emotionless and unforgiving. I slowly rolled the Eye around in my trembling fingers, until I felt the familiar indentations beneath them.

Congratulations! I told myself. You've really fucked this one up!

I pressed the indentations with my thumb and forefinger, but my hands were weak and just would not respond. I tried several times, dropping the Eye at one point and having to pick it up again. Eventually, I forced my fingers to work with me, threatening them with the wrath of Lionel if they refused. At what seemed an eternity, I heard the familiar click as the buttons depressed into the ball.

The amplified voltage was nothing. The shards of electrical current into my brain were like tiny feathers caressing my head. Even the bleeding wound in my abdomen could not compare to the real pain I was feeling right now. It was all just a pleasant distraction from what hurt the most...

My broken heart...

I wished for it to stop beating as I let the Eye roll out of my hand and entered the darkness...

### Chapter 44

There was shouting. Shouting and panic. I could hear the voices of Andre North and Donovan Cooper as they were yelling at each other, at me. As I faded into my new reality, away from the horrors of 49 Edge Rd, it was with a sadness that had draped itself over my soul, covering me in shame. I was glad to leave that future time, glad to be back before it all happens, but at the same time, I felt a sense of despair. What was the point, I was asking myself.

"He's coming around!" I heard Andre yell excitedly, and as I opened my eyes to the bright glare of the laboratory at St Dominic's hospital I was glad to see his face was normal, not the version of the Andre I had seen in 2013. Donovan Cooper leaned in over me, a concerned look on his face.

"Are you okay, man?"

I nodded, and I could see the elation in his eyes.

"Jesus, man!" Andre exclaimed. "You scared the living shit out of us!"

I sat up; glad to feel no pain in my abdomen, my head not hurting from the repeated knocks it had received, but there was still a pain that lingered. However, this pain was from a wound that could not be seen by the eye. Andre immediately tried to assist me as I stood up off the stretcher, but I brushed him off. I was feeling fine, healthy, and even strong. The only uncomfortable sensation was a slight burning pain in my right hand. I looked down at it and the skin of it was red and starting to swell.

"What happened?" I asked, confused.

Andre pointed over at a stainless steel trolley, which had been wheeled into position next to the stretcher. The Eye was resting on it, and it was shimmering. For a moment, I couldn't quite understand what I was seeing, but then I realized it was waves of heat that were radiating from it!

"Why is it doing that?"

"I think the frequency range we dialed in is too high for the crystal components to handle." Andre replied. " It's overheating! I'm going to have to dial it back down again."

"No!" I said determinedly. "No ways!"

"We don't have a choice!" Andre said. "It could burn itself out completely!"

I grabbed Andre by the shoulder, and Donovan took a step forward thinking I was going to attack my friend. "It worked!" I hissed. "It fucking worked!"

For a moment, Andre was speechless, and I could see him trying to process what I was saying in his mind. When he eventually opened his mouth to speak, it was almost a whisper. "You mean..."

I nodded. "2013, February."

"Wow!" he was stunned. "Did you..."

I shook my head. "It didn't help, man. She still died."

We had both forgotten about our uninformed new friend, Donovan, and he had been listening to our conversation, a confused expression slowly forming on his face. "What do you mean died? Who died?"

I patted him on the shoulder. "It's hard to explain right now."

"What about Viktor?" Andre asked, and I nodded.

"He was there, with about seven other guys. I was completely outnumbered and unprepared." A realization suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks! "I have to go back!"

"No ways!" Andre exclaimed. "It's impossible!"

"Go back where?" Donovan asked, and we both turned and yelled at him at the same time.

"Not now!"

He seemed offended by the onslaught, and scowled back at us. "Either you two tell me what the fuck is going on here, or I pull the plug on this thing!"

Andre and I looked at each other for a moment, I shrugged, and then Andre sighed. "Okay. I guess you were going to find out sooner or later. We are not using the KPPS to access repressed memories; we're using them to access future memories."

Donovan frowned. "That's impossible."

"No." I interrupted. "It's not. I've been visiting dates in my future ever since Andre developed this thing."

"What are you saying?" Donovan asked. "You've been giving yourself visions? Dreams?"

"No. I've been visiting the future; time travelling, if you will."

This time Donovan laughed out loud. "Time travelling! That's what fiction writers dream up! It's not possible."

I grabbed Donovan by the sleeve and pulled him reluctantly to one side. "Look man, I know how this sounds, and believe me even I couldn't believe it at first, and I was the one who actually experienced it firsthand! You need to believe me that we will tell you everything eventually, I promise. You are as much a part of this now as we are, but right now, we just don't have the time to go into all the details! Can you accept that?"

Donovan studied my face, and I could tell that he was trying to figure out if I was jerking his chain or not, but eventually he nodded. "Okay, man."

I turned back to Andre. "I have to go back!"

Andre shook his head. "You don't understand, man. The Eye is unstable at its current frequency setting. If I don't set it back to normal it may never work again!"

"And if you do I may never get the opportunity to return to February 2013 again! You know how random the jumps have been! This is the first time we've been able to pinpoint a landing point! I have to go back now, while I still can!"

"Did you see your hand?" Andre asked, and I looked down at the swollen redness of my palm. "The Eye did that. It was getting so hot we could almost smell your skin burning! It's still hot! How do you expect to hold it at that temperature? It's not going to start cooling down until I dial back the frequencies either!"

"That's a sacrifice I have to make!" I said. "If I go back now, while everything is still fresh in my mind, I might be able to save her..."

Andre frowned, and placed his hand on my shoulder. "And what if you can't? What if you go back and it's the same result? If she still dies, are you going to come back and try again and again? How many times? When does it end?"

I glared at Andre. "A thousand times if I have to! We did this to her!" I spat. "You and I. If you hadn't created this thing in the first place she would still be alive, we would still be married! Besides, what about the others? What about Kim? Nicole? What if Viktor gets his hands on it and takes over the country?"

"I understand all that, and I wish it had turned out differently." He said, "But if you use it now it may never work again! You could destroy it completely! What about finding the cure for those diseases? What about the millions of lives we are going to save?"

"If I don't stop Viktor it won't matter anyway." I said. " He gets the Eye eventually, you become his unwilling employee, Jackie dies, Nicole dies, Kim dies... No diseases get cured, no miracles are discovered to save lives... there is only pain, and tyranny. Believe me... I've seen it."

Andre sat down on a chair near the laptop. He rested his forehead on his hands, rubbing his eyes.

"Is it true?" Donovan asked me. "Do all of those things really happen?"

I nodded.

"Then I think you should try." He said, and Andre looked up at him from where he sat.

"If he destroys the Eye using it again, there is nothing for you to say you were a part of. No awards, no prestige, no fame, and fortune." He said. "You go back to being a lab tech, and when the next person figures time travel out you're only going to have a fancy story to tell that nobody would believe anyway."

"If what Lionel is saying about the future is the truth, then none of those things will matter anyway." Donovan replied, and Andre waved him off angrily.

"You two are such pussies!" he said angrily, but I could tell that it was only anger that he was directing at himself, anger for the choices he had to make, choices that he knew needed making; hopefully the right ones, this time. After a long time of muttering and cursing under his breath, he finally swung around on the stool and stared at Donovan and me. "Fine."

I knew the risks he was taking by agreeing. If the Eye stopped working, he would have nothing. This was his dream, the peak of his scientific career, an opportunity to have his names in the journals of history for all time to come. It had to be killing him inside, and I respected him for making the difficult, but morally correct choice. I walked over to where he sat and knelt down in front of him.

"Thank you." I said.

"Just don't go getting yourself killed again!" he replied, and then smiled. He nodded his head towards the Eye, where it shimmered on its makeshift stainless steel pedestal. "You don't have much time."

"Actually, I do." I replied, and walked over to Donovan's desk, grabbing a sheet of paper and a pen. "I have seventeen months."

I proceeded to write out a list, and avoided the confused looks of both Donovan and Andre. When I had finished I gave it to Andre. He read through it, frowning at first, but then widening his eyes as he realized what it was.

"Do you think this will work?" he asked.

"It has to." I replied, then headed back to the stretcher and lay down again. The Eye on the trolley next to me was giving off a mild heat; I could feel it from where I lay. Andre came over and picked it up with a set of crucible tongs, the kind used to hold hot vials of medical specimens.

"This is going to hurt." He said, as he held it above my outstretched palm.

"I think I can handle it." I replied, and then gave him a wink.

He stared at me for a moment, and in his eyes and his weak smile, I could see resignation and respect. "Tell him I said hi... for what he did to Kim."

He dropped the Eye into my palm, and the heat of it surprised me, even though I was expecting it. The components inside were melting, casting their heat around the inside of the metal shell, and with nowhere to escape to the heat was radiating to the outside. I gripped it firmly though, not concerned with the searing pain, only concentrating on not letting it fall from my grasp. I quickly felt around the heated surface for the indentations, and when my fingers found them, I pressed them in quickly.

The additional surge of electrical current only heated the Eye up further, and I started smelling my skin burn. It was an awful smell, nauseating even. I held on with all my might as the pain of it enveloped my hand, and then spread up my arm. Even as the shards of current reached the frontal lobe of my brain and began their epileptic caress, I could still feel the burning in my hand. The darkness couldn't come quick enough, and I welcomed the frightening experience of kaleidoscopic proportions, intense flashes, complete darkness... until eventually the familiar sight of the blue eye that came to greet me was no longer something to be feared, but rather a sight to be welcomed with open arms.

### Chapter 45

The world that came to greet me on the other side once again did not come quietly in the night. It was as if I had been watching the blank screen of a television that was off, and then someone suddenly clicked the remote and turned it on – bright colors, volume blaring... enough sensation to make me physically jump. This time though I was expecting the sight that would greet me on the other side. The highway at nighttime, headlights bearing down on me as the car I was driving drifted into the oncoming lane, the honking of the horn as the frightened driver of the truck tried to warn me to get out of the way. Being prepared for it this time allowed me to react a bit faster. The Eye in my hand was ice cold, and the searing pain from my burning skin was gone. I tossed the Eye onto the passenger seat as I jerked the steering wheel to the left, narrowly avoiding the oncoming truck as I reached my own lane again. It rushed past me in a cacophony of sound and light.

As the darkness of the night, lit only by the headlights of the Chevrolet on the tarmac ahead of me, returned to greet me, I watched the fading headlights of the truck in my rearview mirror as they disappeared over a rise. The driver must have been cursing, but simultaneously thanking the Lord that he had avoided a collision. I pulled over to the side of the road, to catch my bearings and slow the furious beating of my heart. In the darkness of the cab I felt around on the inside roof for a light switch, and when I found it I flicked it on. The first thing I noticed as I looked around was the Eye on the passenger seat, where I had tossed it and it now lay on top of a folded newspaper. It looked different, and I couldn't quite comprehend why until I gingerly picked it up, the memory of the heated ball still on my mind, but it was ice cold now.

It was no longer buzzing. I held it up to my ear to listen, but there was only dead silence. The once brightly polished reflective surface of it was now also dull and faded. There were dark streaks across various areas of it as well, creeping out from the minute cracks, and I sniffed them, quickly catching the whiff of burnt plastic and melted wire. It seemed that Andre had been right – using it that last time had completely destroyed it. There was no going back now. I was stuck here in 2013, and this was my last chance! I looked down at my palm in the weak interior light and I was shocked to see an ugly scar running outward from the center of my palm, across the inside of all my fingers, making them appear rippled and aged. The burn scar was strange to look at, as if it was somebody else's hand attached to my arm.

I placed the Eye back on the passenger seat, and then checked the time on the digital clock on the dashboard. It was 23h05. By avoiding the collision, I had saved myself a good 30 minutes at least! I picked up the folded newspaper on the passenger seat and opened it up. It was a copy of the Sunday Times. On the front page was a picture of Tokyo Sexwale, a previous premier for Gauteng, and now the founder of Mvelaphanda, a JSE listed group of companies with interests in mining and real estate, among others, and a smaller picture of his wife, Judy Sexwale, with the headline reading: Tokyo Divorce Fury! I was less interested in the marital problems of South Africa's elite, and more enthralled by the date at the top of the newspaper: 10th February 2013. It had worked for a second time! The Eye had managed to bring me back to where I had been previously, the same date, and the same time. It looked as if doing so had destroyed it completely though, based on the condition that it was in – no longer filled with a subtle energy, but rather lifeless and inanimate.

I noticed a handwritten note across the top edge of the newspaper, and brought it closer to my eyes to read the small writing. It appeared to be in my own handwriting!

Check the trunk.

I switched the car off and popped the trunk leaving the headlights on to give some light as I stepped out onto the tarmac in the quiet night. I made my way around to the rear of the vehicle, and lifted the lid of the trunk. Lying in the boot was a wrapped plastic parcel, approximately a meter long. I picked it up and undid the plastic, tossing the pieces as I tore them loose back into the trunk. When I had completely unwrapped it, I held the item up in my hands in the red glow of the taillights.

It was a shovel. Brand new, never used.

I smiled broadly at the sight of it. The list I had made for Andre and Donovan had apparently worked. If the shovel was there, that mean... I looked back down the road where I was parked, and about fifty meters away I could just barely make out the reflection of guard-rails on the side of the road. With shovel in hand, I headed towards them. As I reached them, I looked over the low barrier at the incline on the other side. It tapered off into an open piece of veld, a few scattered trees, but mostly grass and sand. This was the spot where I had crashed the Chevrolet the first time. I climbed over the railing and trundled down the slope until I reached the bottom. I had come through the railing on the third section, and I lined myself up with it at the bottom of the slope. I took twenty large striding steps and then stopped. The ground below me looked normal and untouched in years. Themeda Triandra red grass had grown to about knee height, and I placed the shovel at a spot near my feet and pressed down on it with my right foot. It went into the ground easily, as it was mostly soft soil. I proceeded to dig into the earth, going down about two feet before the shovel met with some resistance. I cleared out the area around the object I had hit, and was soon dragging it out of the hole I had made.

The canvas bag was heavy, and I dropped the shovel and proceeded to trundle back to the incline and up to the road with it. I tossed it into the trunk of the car as I reached it, and it made a clunking sound. There was a zip on the bag, and I pulled it open with some force, as it had started rusting. Eventually it gave way and revealed the plastic covered contents inside. I smiled with delight as I lifted one of the items out, pleased that Andre and Donovan had come through for me!

The rifle was weighty, but it was a weight I was familiar with. In my military training back in 1992, it had been the weapon of choice for the South African Defense Force. The R4 was a 5.56mm assault rifle, which had replaced the earlier R1, with a stock and magazine made of high strength polymer. Holding the short-barreled rifle in my hands again brought back many memories of those days in training, most of them unpleasant. I scratched in the canvas bag and pulled out a magazine, fully loaded, and clipped it in, cocking the rifle. The cocking mechanism and barrel were well oiled and operated smoothly. I placed the rifle back in the boot next to the bag, and checked the other items that had been left for me. As I pulled them out, I mentally ticked them off the list I had written out for Andre before I had used the Eye the last time.

Rifle – check.

Hand grenades – check.

Black hunting outfit – check.

Hunting knife – check.

Night vision goggles – check.

Viro key on a key ring – check.

The last item I pulled out of the bag was a bulletproof vest, and I held it up in front of me. I couldn't believe that I was going to such extremes this time, but from my previous experience with Viktor and his men I knew that I was up against a small army of trained killers, and I was not about to face them at a disadvantage again! There was no going back this time. The Eye was dead. I was stuck in 2013 whether I liked it or not, and the rest of my life depended on how this night went. I had seen versions of my future, which were not attractive. Versions where the people I loved were dead – murdered; where I was facing a lifetime in jail for crimes that I did not commit. Perhaps the future already seen could be changed, with the right preparation. It was a slim slice of hope that hung in the back of my mind - like the proverbial carrot in front of a donkey. My motivation and purpose defined.

I started changing on the side of the road, tossing the clothes I was wearing into the trunk. By the time I had finished, I was a different looking man, no longer just the frightened mathematics lecturer that Viktor was expecting tonight. The new Lionel Hesse was in good shape, a skilled marksman, a trained MMA fighter and most importantly, had nothing to lose.

The African Lion is a deceptive beast; beautiful, majestic and proud, but back it into a corner and suddenly the animal instincts came out, instincts that earned it the title of King of the Jungle.

I was that animal now, and the hunt was only just beginning. This was not the frozen wastelands of Russia.

This was Africa.

This was _my_ territory.

### Chapter 46

I parked the Chevrolet a few blocks further down past Jackie's house. It was almost midnight, and my guests would be arriving shortly. I had no intention of trying to convince Jackie to let me into the house this time, as I knew it wouldn't work. In any case, I wasn't planning on trapping myself in there and being surrounded by eight men! The old Latin saying of 'Divide and Conquer' was my inspiration tonight, and I knew that I would only succeed in bringing Viktor and his men down if I could even out the playing field. One versus eight was not a fair fight anyway, and it would never be! As I exited the car, I picked up the now defunct Eye and placed it in one of the pockets on my hunting suit. The suit had a Lycra hood, which I pulled tightly over the top of my head before heading up the street towards the house – a shadow within the shadows. I had packed two hand grenades into the pockets on my hunting vest, and I was carrying the rifle in my hands, with the night vision goggles resting on the top of my head. There was an electrical control box about two houses from Jackie's place, and I knelt down in front of it and studied the orange padlock. I reached into one of the pockets in my vest and pulled out the small key ring with the Viro key attached to it. I slipped it into the padlock and it turned on the first motion, unlocking it. I tossed the padlock aside and opened the door of the control box. There were several connections in the box, all controlling electrical feeds to the surrounding houses, but it was the switch that controlled the streetlights that I was most concerned with. Luckily, the electrician who had installed the box had been a meticulous worker, and had labeled each switch individually. I found the one marked 'Streetlights' and flicked it downwards.

The street immediately plunged into darkness. This late at night the high walls of most of the surrounding houses blocked any internal lights from reaching the road, and the result was a tunnel of complete darkness, stretching for most of the way up Edge Rd. I closed the box again and then scurried up towards number 49, crossing the road to the opposite side as I reached it. The neighbor across from Jackie had planted several small trees in the front of his house, and I took up position behind one of them, the saplings providing just enough cover to shield me from prying eyes, but allowing me a good view through the small leaves and branches of the front of her house. I slipped the night vision goggles down over my eyes and felt for the switch that turned them on. Immediately the street in front of me became a green daylight. I could see everything in the darkness, from the doorbell on the front of number 49, to the registration of the Chevrolet I had parked further down the road.

Now it was time to wait. I sat down on my haunches, the R4 rifle strapped around my body and pointed between my knees at the ground. It was eerily quiet in the street, not even the sound of dogs barking. After a few minutes I was starting to worry that perhaps I had changed the direction of my future somehow, and that maybe Viktor and his gang would not be coming, but bright lights to my right a few moments later had me turning the night vision off as two cars approached. They pulled up in front of the house, one on the sidewalk, the other in the driveway, and then killed the engines. The doors opened and four men from each vehicle climbed out. I recognized the Viktor by his stature immediately, he was still a large man, but older in the way he moved and held himself. He spoke in soft grunts to the men around him, and two dispatched themselves to the right hand side of the house, vaulting the low wall. Another two headed to the left. One man stayed behind as Viktor led the other two towards the front door of the house.

I had turned the night vision goggles back on again, and watched as they kicked in the front door of the house and disappeared inside. The man who had been left behind to keep an eye on the vehicles and the road was standing with his back to me as I crept out from my hiding place, twisting the rifle around to lie across my back, and pulling out the hunting knife from its pouch strapped to my leg. I was wearing rubber soled canvas hunting boots, and they were silent on the tar as I crossed the road towards him. By the time I was only a foot behind him, he was still unaware that I was there, and I wasted no time in slipping my arm around his neck, slicing quickly with the knife. It was razor sharp and cut through his throat in an instant, leaving him gargling and sputtering as he fell to his knees. I kicked him forward onto his face, pocketed the knife, and then moved around to the closest SUV. I opened the door and peered inside.

Andre was seated on the back seat, head bowed and oblivious to what had just happened. He jerked his head up as I said his name, and then scooted in fear across the seat to the opposite end, eyes wide. I pulled off the night vision goggles so that he could see my face.

"It's me." I whispered.

For a moment, he seemed confused, as if he didn't recognize me, but then slowly he came to his senses. He started opening his mouth to say something, but I held my finger to my lips. I reached down to where the slain lookout was lying, and picked up his rifle, handing it to Andre.

"Stay here!" I said. "If anything moves out that front door that doesn't look like me or Jackie, kill it!"

He nodded, and I could see a flicker of the old Andre that I knew so well beneath the emancipated exterior of his current self.

I moved off towards the house now, and a light had come on in the living room. I headed left towards the rear of the house, through the small side gate, trying not to let it squeak as I inched it open. Once in the backyard I made my way up the stairs to the rear door. The door had been kicked in, and there was a muddy footprint on it again, but this time the footprint was different. It was at least a size 11, while I wore size 8's. Light from the living room was spilling into the kitchen, and I could just make out the shadows of two men as they stood in the archway to the living room. I stopped for a moment near the microwave when I heard the sound of voices talking, and listened. Viktor was speaking in English, probably to Jackie, and I could recognize his slanted accent anywhere.

"Where is he?" he was asking, and I could hear Jackie's trembling voice, so timid and frightened, as she replied.

"I told you, I haven't seen him in more than a year!"

Viktor spoke in Russian to one of his men, and I could hear from the tone that he was irritated and confused. Somehow, they were expecting me to be here, whether it had been a tip off or something else that had convinced them, I wasn't sure, but now that they had come, I was nowhere to be found. This wasn't the way his plan was supposed to go, and he was not happy.

"What do you know about the device?" he was speaking to Jackie again.

"What device?" she asked, "I don't know what you are talking about."

I heard him laugh. "Well, that is a shame." He was saying. "I was really hoping that we could come to a mutual agreement without any hassle..." There was a pause before he added, "Perhaps you need a new perspective."

I knew what was coming next. I waited breathlessly for a few seconds, and then I heard the sound of gunfire from outside the front of the house. A few stray bullets hit the wall between the kitchen and the living room with dull thuds, and there were shouts of surprise from the living room, and then return fire from inside the house, which was amplified by the enclosed space. One of the two men who had been standing in the archway bolted backwards into the kitchen, his back towards me, peering around the wall, and aiming his rifle towards the front door. I grabbed him before he had the chance to fire a single shot, bending him over backwards until he was my height, my arm wrapped around his neck and squeezing with all my might. There was an audible cracking sound as his neck broke, and I dropped him to the floor immediately, stepping over him and heading for the archway, bringing the R4 around to the front of me.

The second gunman was crouched down behind the three-seater sofa, and I fired two short bursts into his back as I entered the living room. One of the rounds must have ricocheted off his bulletproof vest and hit him in the neck, tearing through a main artery and spouting blood in all directions as he fell to the floor. Another gunman was near the front door, and spun around as he heard the shots being fired behind him. I fired another burst and he danced briefly up against the wall, before sliding down to the floor, a trail of blood left behind.

Jackie was crouched down on the floor, holding her head as the world around her was exploding. I headed over to her, and as I bent down to pick her up, I caught a movement to my right from the corner of my eye. I turned my head just as one of Viktor's goons was bearing down on me. He slammed into my chest as I was turning, and we catapulted over the couch and onto the floor behind it. He was a big man, and he landed on top of me, almost knocking my wind out. I let go of my rifle, which hung on its strap, and switched to fighting mode as my muscles, cells and subconscious mind recalled memories of my MMA training from somewhere deep within. On the ground, fighting was one of the key aspects of MMA, and it was getting position over your opponent in such a way that he could not defend himself that was of vital importance in securing a victory.

Although he was much bigger and heavier than I was, he was slow. I managed to twist my lower body out from underneath him, and then used them to grab his head from behind, bending him backwards away from my torso. As soon as his weight shifted in that direction, I pushed up with my arms and quickly toppled him over onto his back, with me on top. I punched him four times in the face, strategically aiming for the nose and jaw. There was a crunching sound as his jaw dislocated beneath his balaclava, and he screamed in pain. As he let go of me to grab his face I swung the R4 up from my side, the short barrel making it an ideal weapon for close combat, and aiming at his head I pulled the trigger. There was some spray-back splatter as his head exploded, and as the warm droplets hit my face, I had sat down on top of the man's dead body and wiped my face. I looked down at my hands afterwards, they were covered in blood and other bits, and the sight of it made me pause.

I couldn't believe the extent of my own violence. How had I changed so drastically from the man I used to be a few years ago? Back then, I wouldn't even have killed a spider, yet here I was wiping human brains off my face. Was it possible for someone to change so psychologically without affecting who they were as a human being anymore; could I still recognize myself if I looked deep down inside? Was that man – the caring husband, an honest friend, a teacher to the young and impressionable, a mentor and a builder of dreams – was that man still inside me somewhere, and if so could he be saved?

I was so busy analyzing myself that I never saw the butt of the rifle coming at my head from the side. It slammed into me with enough force to smash the night vision goggles on the top of my head, and cause me to see thousands of tiny spots in my vision. As I fell onto my side and looked up, I saw Viktor's face peering down at me from a distance before everything went dark.

### Chapter 47

When I came around eventually, I was moving. I could feel the swaying motion as the car I was travelling in was being driven, making turns at high speed. It took a moment for my vision to become accustomed to the dark interior of the car, but when I did, I saw I was seated on the backseat between Andre and Jackie, all of us handcuffed with our arms in front of us. Artur was driving the vehicle, and Viktor was seated in the passenger seat. I tried to figure out where the third man was, and when I turned my head to look out the back window I saw the taillights that followed us and surmised that he was driving the second vehicle.

Andre had noticed that I was awake and patted me on the leg. I looked across at him and smiled, indicating that I was okay. Viktor turned to look back at us, and when he saw that I was conscious, he clapped his hands sarcastically.

"Wow." He said. "You really know how to cause trouble, don't you?"

My head was pounding furiously, the passing streetlights outside the windows reaching in and stabbing me each time they caught my eye. I shrugged and nodded. "That's how I roll."

"I have to congratulate you, though." Viktor continued. "You killed five of my men tonight! Three of them were among my best. Very impressive! However, also very stupid! Did you really think you were going to get away with it?"

I eyed the internal door handle next to where Jackie sat, and Viktor must have noticed where my gaze was directed.

"Don't even bother." He said. "It's locked, as are the windows. And it's bullet proof glass."

"Where are you taking us?" I asked.

"Well, seeing as you caused such a commotion at your ex-wife's house, we had to move to a more suitable premises" He replied. "I don't generally concern myself with the police in this country, however some of them can be quite a pain in my butt, you know? I believe you've met my cousin, Artur?"

The monster driving the car turned and glared at me with his one good eye and grunted.

I smiled at him. "How's the modeling career going?"

Viktor chuckled. "You are such a witty man! We'll see how long that lasts though. He said something to Artur in Russian, and the big man laughed. He turned off the tarmac and onto a gravel road, and I tried to figure out which area we were in before the trees enveloped my view, but it was no place that I recognized. The headlights of the following SUV turned in behind us, briefly lighting the interior of the cab.

I turned to Jackie, whose eyes were red and swollen. She was still wearing her pink nightgown, and was clutching it against herself tightly. "It's going to be okay." I said gently, and she looked at me with emotionless eyes, I could tell she was in shock.

The gravel road we were on was bumpy, and we were flung about on the backseat as the 4x4 made its way towards an unknown destination. After a few minutes, the road leveled out and Artur pulled the vehicle to a stop. He and Viktor got out and opened the back doors for us to exit as well. When we slid out of the vehicle, I saw that we had stopped at what looked like a deserted quarry in the middle of a forest of some kind. The ground had been leveled at the point where we were standing, and a few about a hundred meters away from us dropped off sharply into an excavated valley of hard rock and sand. I still had no idea where exactly we were, but I knew it was kilometers away from where anybody could hear or see us.

The second SUV pulled up next to us, and then the three of them herded the three of us ahead towards the drop off, stopping only a few meters from the edge. Looking down I could tell that it was at least a 50-meter drop to the bottom, sharp pointy rocks and large boulders lining the floor. They had taken my rifle from me, and had unstrapped my hunting knife from my leg, but they had failed to take my hunting vest, which still had the Eye in one of the pockets.

"As you can see," Viktor said, "there is nowhere to go, and nobody to hear you shout. I have wasted enough of my time, and lost enough good soldiers today, so you'll forgive me if I get right to the point." He moved over to a small boulder and sat down, placing his rifle on the ground beside him, removing a Zippo lighter, and a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lighting one. "Do you know what the karakurt is?" he asked, letting the question hang in the air.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Oh Jesus! Yes, it's a fucking stupid Russian spider that hangs out in remote areas, waiting to bite people. It's the same type of spider that bit you on your left arm just below the elbow and caused the skin to rot and die, leaving a hole in your arm that you believe reminds you how tough you are, but which I think actually just reminds you of your mother's ugly face!"

Viktor paused midway through dragging on his cigarette, and for the briefest moment, I could see a hint of uncertainty flicker across his eyes as he stared back at me in confusion. Artur took a step towards me, but Viktor held up his hand and stopped him from advancing any further. He then stood up and walked over to stand in front of me. He was about a foot taller than I was, and he had to look down. He blew the inhaled smoke out into my face, and it stung my eyes for a moment. Then he reached across to my right and stubbed the cigarette out into Jackie's exposed neck, causing her to scream out in pain and take a wild step backwards, almost losing her balance, and toppling over the edge of the quarry. My heart raced and I reached out to pull her back. She had grabbed her neck and started sobbing again.

"Your knowledge is impressive." Viktor said, smiling. " But it has no place for your personal interpretations."

I stretched myself up to my tallest height, still diminutive against the bulkiness of the Russian. "Then do us both a favor and get to the point!" I said.

He chuckled and walked back to the boulder, sitting down again. "Yes, you are correct. I want the device that you have been hiding from me all these years. You can tell me where it is, I will send one of my men to fetch it, and then I will let you all go back to your miserable lives."

I laughed, and it was as fake and sarcastic as the speech he had just given. "Will you?" I asked. "Will the great Viktor Emsky, CEO of Emsky Security Holdings and previous Russian rich boy, who ended up in prison, whose own country no longer wanted him so he had to escape to this one, and, of course change his name from Alexei Titov, would this great man let us three peasants go? For some reason I think you're just full of shit."

Viktor seemed physically affected by the mention of his old name, and he stood up angrily. I'm sure the thought was running around in his mind that if I, a simple University lecturer, could figure out who he had once been, then surely somebody more dangerous to him could as well? However, as was the nature of the man, he composed himself quickly.

"You are well-informed." He said "Very good."

I shrugged. "I make it a point of getting to know the men who try to ruin my life."

He grunted. "A good policy"

"So," I said, cutting to the chase. "What this all boils down to is that you want the KPPS from me, and then you will let us go?"

He nodded. "Exactly! I have no interest in the three of you past today. It's a simple deal, and one you probably should have made a long time ago."

"You're right." I said. "I've wasted two years of my life trying to keep it away from you, and what has it brought me except pain and misery?"

"So you will tell me where it is, then?" he asked, and I could sense an excitement in his voice now.

"Even better" I said. "I will give it to you right now."

He seemed confused by my statement. "You have it with you?"

I nodded and gestured at the pockets on my vest. "May I?"

He nodded, but Artur took a step closer, raising his AK-47 at me, a warning not to try anything funny. I reached slowly into one of the pockets in my vest and pulled the Eye out, holding it in the palm of my hand. In the light of the full moon, it still gave off a bright reflection, still looked brand new. Viktor's eyes widened at the sight of it. He had probably seen a few of these in attempts Andre had made over the years to duplicate it, and he knew what he was looking at right now. I knew as well that from the distance between us he couldn't tell that it was burnt out and no longer working. He took a step towards me, but I clenched my hand shut around it and he stopped in his tracks.

"First let them go." I said, gesturing at Andre and Jackie beside me.

Viktor looked at the both of them, and then back at the Eye in my fist. He smiled, and in that smile I could see the wicked heart of the snake that he was. "Or...." He chuckled. "I just let Artur shoot you all right now, and take it for myself?"

"That could be an option." I replied. "But I have a better plan."

I arched my arms upwards suddenly and let the now useless Eye leave my hand at the highest peak of my reach. It vaulted up into the air, above and behind where we were standing, catching the glint of the moonlight as it did so. A falling star in reverse. The third Russian who had been standing beside Viktor lunged forward to try to catch it while Viktor and Artur were looking skyward, and as he passed Andre, he stuck out his foot and sent him tumbling forward towards the edge of the quarry. He realized where he was headed and tried to slow himself down, but momentum had already taken over and he could not stop in time before slipping over the edge of the vertical drop, screaming as he did so, following the Eye into the chasm beyond. As this was happening, I had reached into one of the other pockets of my vest and pulled out one of the two hand grenades I had stashed there. I pulled the safety pin and hurled it between Viktor and Artur, where it rolled under one of the parked Land Rovers. Three seconds later, it went off, catapulting the vehicle up into the air in an exploding fireball of flame and sound.

### Chapter 48

Artur was between the explosion and us and debris from the grenade and disintegrated vehicle was flying towards us, but his massive frame was in the way and he took the brunt of it in the back. He stumbled forward towards us, and as he neared, I double stepped and kicked him squarely in the face, that sent him sprawling him onto his back, his rifle flying from his hand. Viktor was still trying to process the loss of the Eye and one of his soldiers into the quarry, as well as the unexpected explosion from behind, and by the time he realized what was happening, he was too far away from his own rifle to get to it in time. I lunged at him, taking advantage of his momentary confusion, knocking him hard in the chest with my shoulder, and he spilled backwards, tripping over the boulder he had been sitting on earlier, slamming his head into the hard ground behind it.

I reached down and picked his rifle up from beside the boulder as I passed it, and then cocked and aimed it at his head. He lay with his arms up above his head, palms facing me, and there was a fear in his face, which I was certain, had not shown itself to anyone for many years.

"Watch out!" the warning came from Jackie, and as I spun around, I saw Artur bearing down on me, his grotesque features highlighted in the moonlight like a scene from a bad horror movie. He was holding my survival knife in his hands, and as he reached me, he stabbed with all his might into my stomach. For a moment I felt that sense of déjà vu again, that moment of realization that I would once again die bleeding out from the gut, but the pressure of the knife in my abdomen was different this time. I looked down and saw that it had hit the bulletproof vest I was wearing, and had not been able to penetrate the metal plates that lined my stomach. Artur took a step back, looking at the knife and then me in confusion, and then charged at me again. I fired the rifle and he went down, sprawling face first into the gravel at my feet, shards of blood soaked debris glinting in the moonlight on his back.

I swung around again towards Viktor, who was now trying to stand up. When he did I gestured for him to move around to where Jackie and Andre were still standing, and he did so. They moved behind me as we switched roles, with the three of us facing the man with his back to the quarry. I leaned over, searched Artur's pockets for the keys to the handcuffs, and then tossed them to Andre, who undid all of ours. I tossed my set over to Viktor, and gestured to him to put them on. He did so reluctantly.

Viktor was out of breath, and I could sense a panic in his voice when he spoke – a voice he may not have had to use since his days in prison in Russia, I was certain.

"Okay." He blurted out. "Whatever you want... I can give you. I have money."

"Can you give us our lives back?" I asked him, and he seemed to genuinely consider his answer, but I knew there was no answer to give. The lives we had once had were gone forever. I was no longer the man I used to be, and I doubted that Jackie or Andre were ever going to be the same again either. We had all lived through hard times, Jackie who had dealt with the emotional challenges associated with leaving an estranged husband, Andre with the physical and mental torture he must have suffered under Viktor's hands over the past year, and myself... well, there was nothing more to say. Here I stood with blood on my hands, the blood of killers. I had already died, and this was the re-born version of me, only not in any religious sense, but rather psychologically and physically.

Viktor, perhaps realizing that he was not going to buy our pardon, or perhaps just reminding himself who he was, the ever powerful, rich and untouchable survivor of spiders, prisons and Gestapo vengeance, had now pulled himself together, and was standing tall again.

"Do you think it will end here?" he asked, smirking at us. "Do you think if I go to prison it will be the end of your problems? You see, Mr. Hesse, there will not be a day that goes by for the rest of your life that you will not be regretting your decision today. You will attend more funerals over the next year than one man should ever-"

I held up my hand and he stopped talking. I had heard this speech before. Friends murdered, neighbors kids dying, pets disappearing, blah, blah, blah...

"I know you, Alexei," I said, and I could tell that using his real name had the same effect as fingernails screeching across a blackboard. "I know what you are capable of, and I know that you are, as you once so confidently told me, the mad dog who will walk the seven mile detour. You can stop walking now."

He was going to open his mouth to say something, but I pulled the trigger on the AK-47 and emptied out the last few rounds into his chest. I'm sure the vest he was wearing probably held back most of the bullets, but the impact of them on the metal shielding was forceful enough to make him take a step backwards, a step that led to fresh air. He swung his arms wildly as he teetered on the edge of the drop off, and the brave face he had worn briefly was now replaced with the face of a man who realized that the only emotion worth showing right now was complete acceptance of what was to come. As he tried desperately to swing his leaning body forward, he disappeared over the edge, and a few moments later, I heard the thud as his heavy body hit the rocks and boulders below, to rest with his precious prize.

There was an air of calmness to the night after he fell. The moon seemed to be shining a fraction brighter, the sounds of nature around us, which had gone unnoticed earlier, were now coming back to my ears, the touch of the slight breeze through the trees and on my face. The earth smelt fresher as well, as if the grass and sand and even the air around us had suddenly come to life. I dropped the rifle to the ground and walked slowly over to where Andre and Jackie were standing, holding each other. They came apart as I neared and Jackie put her arms around me. She squeezed tightly, and for a moment, I was back in my old life again. Holding my wife, feeling the shape of her familiar body against mine, breathing in the scent of the conditioner in her hair... but it was only for a moment. That life was long gone now. I pulled her away from me and looked into her eyes. They were still so beautiful, and it was the greatest sight on earth, to see them alive, dancing in the moonlight again.

"Are you okay?" I asked, as I removed the lock of hair from her face and tucked it in behind her ear. Her eyes were welling up, and she wiped the tears away as they formed, nodding.

"Lionel." She said, and I could hear a tone in her voice, which I had not heard in a long time. "I should have believed you... you know... back when you..."

I placed a finger to her lips. "It's okay." I said. "That was a long time ago, and we were different people then."

She nodded. "Can you forgive me, at least, for not believing you?"

I smiled. "I think we've both paid our dues for the mistakes we've made, but it's time to move on now. Move forward, you know what I mean?"

She nodded again, and hugged me one more time before stepping back. Andre extended his hand and I took it in mine.

"Thank you, friend." He said. "I don't think I could have survived another year with that man."

"Well." I said. "You did get yourself into this mess in the first place, now didn't you?"

He seemed taken aback, and I let him mull it over for a moment before I burst out laughing. "Relax, buddy! I'm just joking. But promise me one thing..."

"What's that?" he asked.

"If you ever think of re-inventing the Eye, make sure you find someone else to be your guinea pig!"

He smiled. "No, I think I'm done with messing around with time. In fact, I think it's a good time for me to retire from all things scientific for a while. I have a wife waiting for me in Lichtenburg who hasn't seen or spoken to her husband in over a year. You know... priorities..."

I patted him on the back. "Good for you."

We headed back to the second Land Rover, which had escaped any major damage from the hand grenade, and as I opened the door for Jackie to climb in, I touched her arm briefly. "So, this guy you've been seeing. What's he like?"

"He's nice." She said, smiling. Then added "At least he doesn't talk in his sleep about crazy stuff, you know... like time travelling and stuff."

"Well!" I smiled. "Then he's a keeper!"

I started the Land Rover a few moments later, and headed back along the gravel road towards the glow of city lights in the distance. There were all sorts of questions about our uncertain futures that lay waiting for answers somewhere in that scarred city, but for right now, I was intent on focusing on the present only, and getting us all home.

### Chapter 49

The days beyond that night were a blur. They were spent giving long detailed descriptions of what had happened at Jackie's house, as well as at the quarry, and most of our answers were just elaborate lies. There was no way the police or the reporters were going to believe our story anyway, so we had to give them an alternative to the truth. Luckily for us Viktor's reputation had preceded him, and it turned out there was already an investigation under way by the Hawks, a special policing unit, into charges of fraud and money laundering, focused mostly on the empire he had built around Emsky Security. There were also several unexplained murders that had been linked to him, and with our version of events to collaborate the facts they already had, it wasn't long before they were closing the case and giving us back our lives and anonymity.

There were also long sessions of interrogation I had to endure with a Detective Etienne Coetzee from the SAPS regarding the manner in which all of Viktor's trained men had come to their demise. Seeing the robust, good-hearted man again was strangely comforting, as this time around his focus on me was more of an informative nature than a suspicious one. In the end he accepted my version of events, of how I had managed to overpower one of the assailants, and thanks to my old training in the South African Defense force had managed to save the lives of my ex wife and my best friend, all in self defense, and all by some miraculous streak of luck, of course.

By Thursday of that week, things had started returning to normal. The reporters who had pounced on the story of the prominent local businessman and Chairperson of the Round Table, who had for some unclear reason involved the lives of three innocent people in his futile and violent attempt at evading the long arm of the Russian law. The reporters who had come to expedite him for crimes under the name of Alexei Titov, had all packed up their cameras, their voice recorders and had moved on to other, fresher news. In South Africa, there was never a shortage of those.

Jackie had moved into an apartment, temporarily, while the insurance company paid to repair the damage caused to her house by the gunfight. We had lunch that afternoon at the Barefoot Café, a lovely restaurant on the beachfront in Nahoon, and she brought her new friend, Dalton, along. He was a good man, a lawyer, unfortunately, but a good man all the same. She was happy, that was all that mattered to me right now, and most importantly, he didn't look like the type of man who was going to break her heart. I made sure of this during a little persuasive conversation we had in the men's bathroom at the restaurant.

Andre had put his house up for sale and moved to Lichtenburg to be with Kim and teach Science as a substitute teacher at the local high school. We had spent the night before he left finishing a case of beers and a bottle of Klipdrift Premium brandy, and we did so around a bonfire to which we added all his research on the Eye. We had managed to smuggle it all out of the police evidence lockers thanks to our new friend on the police force, Donovan Cooper. After he had helped us back in 2011 to send me on my last trip with the Eye, he had realized that science was not going to give him the satisfaction he required in life. He completed a year of training at the South African Police College with top honors, and his side-hobby of cage fighting in the MMA went a long way in making him a respected, yet feared arm of the law.

After greeting Jackie and Dalton at the restaurant, I headed to my hotel room at the Regent in my rental car. I had also quit my job at the University, as it would always be a difficult place for me to return to, with everything that had happened. I took a long and relaxing shower and then dressed in jeans and a comfortable sweater. I went to the bar downstairs and ordered myself a double brandy and coke. As I nursed my drink, I watched the comings and goings of people along the beachfront from my seat at the window. It was strange to see the normality of life around me, as young couples with the promise of a lifetime together were walking, holding hands, and looking into each other's eyes, oblivious of the strange possibilities around them, of the consequences of words said, time wasted, or paths chosen.

Time had become much more important to me, these days. I had learnt to slow down and appreciate the minutes of the now. The moments that had passed, even those only seconds old, were gone forever. There was no point in hanging onto them as if you could change the fact of their existence. The moments that were yet to come were of even lesser significance to me. I had seen the turmoil caused by obsessing over what may still happen, what lay beyond, and I had realized that ultimately, as individuals and as a species, we were better off not knowing. Appreciate the now. That was my new motto. Right now, I was appreciating the taste of the smooth drink as it poured over my lips and down into my throat.

It was already dark by the time I had finished, and I paid the barman and then left the hotel. I drove along the beachfront, up through to the heart of the city, and as I did so, I found beauty in between all the scars. The majestic architecture of the buildings, the stately presence of the bridges that crossed the Buffalo River, the way stars reflected off the mirrored glass of the 20 storey Sanlam building downtown. Even in the darkest and dirtiest places around town, there would always be something worth marveling about, and finding those gems was a choice one had to make, as they were not always obvious, regardless of where you lived.

I pulled over on the side of the road several minutes later. I was feeling nervous, but it was the good kind. I placed my hand on the wrapped parcel on the passenger seat, and stared out the window at the calming night. The green analog hands of the clock on the dashboard of the rental car ticked over to eight-thirty. I closed the windows and then stepped out of the car, leaning up against it as I waited.

The Audi came around the corner a moment later, the engine racing as it pulled up at the curb across the road from me. The driver never switched the car off, but left it idling, as if waiting for something or someone. After a moment, the driver's door opened and she stepped out, looking anxiously across the parking lot away from me at the side entrance of the hospital. I crossed the road, parcel in hand, and stopped a few feet behind her. She hadn't seen me in eleven months, so I wasn't sure what reaction I was going to get.

"Hey." I said.

She turned and looked at me in surprise, and it was wonderful to see that she had returned to her old "self" again. Her hair was cut into the familiar bob style, the natural blonde of it reflecting the overhead streetlights back at me. Her eyes danced when they met mine, and for a moment, they glistened with uncontrolled emotion. Then she frowned, and looked around as if searching for something, anticipating a moment that would never come.

"It's okay." I said. "It's over."

Nicole turned to face me, and the tears would not hold back any longer, tracing a line down her cheek. I stepped closer, catching them with my finger. She let out a choked laugh, and then wrapped her arms around me. I held her as tightly as I could without hurting her, as if I would never let her go again. After a moment, she pulled back slightly, staring into my eyes.

"It's really over?" she asked, needing to make sure that I was telling the truth, and I nodded in response.

I handed her the parcel I had wrapped for her, and she looked at it quizzically. "What's this?"

"It's Valentine's day, isn't it?"

She smiled as she tore the poorly wrapped gift open, and then held up the can in front of her. "Coffee?" she said, and then laughed.

I shrugged. "We never did get to have that cup."

She hugged the can against her chest. "It's the perfect gift. Thank you." She leaned in and kissed me on the lips, and it was exactly the way I remembered it. Soft and sensual.

"You were right." She said.

"About what?" I asked.

"The lottery numbers. They came through. Eleven million"

"Aah..." I smiled. "So I guess we can do that thing you always wanted to do then..."

"What thing?" she frowned.

"You know... South America, the Amazon, piranhas"

She laughed heartily. "Oh yes, that thing. Well, we can still decide." She looked down for a moment, and there was a seriousness about her, which seemed out of place in this reunion. "I have a gift for you, as well."

"Okay." I smiled.

She walked past me to the rear door of the Audi and opened it, reaching in for something. After a moment, she appeared again, holding an oddly shaped item. It took a moment for my mind to decipher what I was seeing, and when I finally realized what it was my heart started racing, harder than it had ever raced before.

"Meet your son." She said, and there was an anxious tone to her voice, as if she was expecting the worst kind of reaction from me.

He was beautiful, tiny and wrapped up in a blue and white baby blanket, about two months old. I walked over to where she stood and took him into my arms as gently as I could manage.

"Oh, my God!" I whispered, staring at the little miracle of life that lay bundled in my arms. "Are you serious? Mine? What's his name?"

"Dominic." She said, and I looked up at her in surprise.

She looked over at the hospital building behind us, shrugging. "It seemed fitting."

"It's perfect" I said. "Dominic."

As if in answer to his name, the child in my arms started moving his tiny head and opening his eyes. I turned slightly to get a better view of his face under the streetlight, and as the light caught his now open eyes, I almost stopped breathing. I had to lean in closer to be sure, and even then, I could still not quite believe it.

"His eyes!" I gasped.

"I know." She smiled. "The doctors said it was a genetic defect. A reduced amount of the tyrosinase enzyme, it's not serious or life-threatening or anything, but very rare."

I had to look at them again, and Dominic seemed to be studying me back as I stared at him. His eyes were a bright blue color, far brighter and blue than you would expect any child of his age to have, but the feature that had me the most enthralled was the tiny dash of red in each eye, near the pupil. I had seen those eyes so many times before because they had haunted my epileptic visions after using the Eye each time. An exact match to the one that had led me through the darkness, as if this child had been with me during those moments in between my twisted realities, even though in reality he had not even existed yet! It sounded so crazy, but at the same time made complete sense to me now.

"So, you're okay with him, then?" Nicole asked timidly.

"Are you kidding?" I exclaimed. "He's wonderful!"

She leaned in against me and I put my arm around her, as both of us stared down in awe at this new person who had come into our lives, unexpectedly yet also exactly as intended by whatever greater power had seen fit to gift him to us.

Now, standing there with the two of them in my arms in the cool African night, this amazing woman, and this heavenly child, I began to realize that despite all the hardships we had endured and all the challenges we had faced, including loved ones lost and found again, beyond the still warm ashes of time once stolen from us, a new day had now begun.

### ###

### A Letter to my Readers

I hope you enjoyed The Days Beyond! Please support me in my efforts as an independent author by purchasing any of my future or current books! I have always believed that writing should be fast-paced, to-the-bone and in-your-face style, mixing up the ordinary with the extraordinary, the natural with the supernatural!

I would also greatly appreciate it if you could assist in spreading the word about my novel, and any others that may follow, by sharing the links to this book with your family and friends!

I also welcome comments about my books, and you can contact me directly at 6string@webmail.co.za or feel free to post a comment on my website at http://www.waynerouxauthor.yolasite.com and please don't forget to also review the book at the site where you downloaded it, which will also be greatly appreciated!

You can follow me on Twitter: @WayneRoux

Thanks for reading my imaginings and keep believing in those dreams!

Wayne Roux

### About the Author:

Wayne Roux was born in East London, South Africa in 1973, the second youngest of eight children. He started writing at the age of 14, but has only recently taken it up again full time. He is happily married to his wife, Joelene, and they have one daughter, Michaela. Wayne's motto in life is, "Never give up on your dreams, no matter how impossible they may seem!"

For other books by Wayne Roux please visit his website at http://www.waynerouxauthor.yolasite.com

