Forever

Where Are They?

Pain exploded in his head and memories swam in front of his eyes, slurring together until they made no coherent sense. He heard Jo's scream and felt......

Nothing.

Suddenly he was three feet below the surface, staring up into the night sky. The salty water stung his eyes and the cold kicked his limbs into action. Breaking through the surface, Henry gasped as the icy air met his naked skin. The busy city loomed behind him, bustling with loud businessmen and laughing passerby. The Brooklyn Bridge sparkled with light, and the noise of annoyed drivers echoed over the dark water. Sighing shakily, he ground his jaw to keep his teeth from clattering and swam to shore as fast as he could, memories of Adam's confession and his own shooting pounding through his head. As soon as he met the shoreline, he resolved to keep a stash of clothes where he could easily find them. At least his arm didn't have a hole in it.

For some reason, that did not cheer him up.

"Sir, why were you..... For lack of a better word, 'streaking', through New York?" The officer asked him, barely suppressing a laugh. Abraham stood by the door of the police department, gesturing for the man to hurry things along.

"I was not! It was an.... Accident. You see, I've struggled with mental illness most of my life...." Henry rattled off the story he'd concocted since his first death in the city. At the end, when he was about to unwind the tragic story of his supposed best friend dying (To a degree, he wasn't lying, although he had no idea whether Jo had died or not and preferred to belief she still lived.) Abraham leapt in, ranting about how it was a bad idea to sign him out of the mental asylum.

"Right." The officer said, letting Henry stand. The clothes he wore had been dug from the back of the department, and they were modern, God be damned. They were every bit as comfortable as Abraham said and he hated them for it. The sneakers grated against his feet and rubbed at his heels as he walked. The shirt was gray and the pants were rough and had several holes in the knee. He wondered whether they were made that way or if they were simply worn.

"Brought you your own clothes." Abraham said, as he pulled open the car door. Henry sighed, thankful. He wanted to get out of the clothes he wore and go back to get Jo. And to confront Adam about his so-called confrontation.

"Thank you. Let me drive." He replied, tugging the door handle. Abraham looked up from his driver's seat, and a click sounded, itching at the back of his head in an irritating way.

"What?" He asked. Henry tugged again. And again.

"The door's broken!" He shouted, pulling it harder. A couple passing by stopped and stared. Inside, Abraham started laughing thunderoisly, slapping his knee. Henry stopped, confused.

"No it's not. I locked it." He said, pressing a button on the door. The click sounded again, and Henry watched as his son opened the door. "Thought you knew about that. Anyway, go ahead and drive. We going home?"

"No." Henry grumbled, pushing the keys into the ignition as Abraham climbed into the passenger's seat.

"Very good! You got the car started!" He said, chuckling to himself. Henry shot a look at him and pulled out of the parking space, then realized the situation he just put himself in. Now he was stuck wearing 21st Century clothing. Oh well, if it got Jo out of Adam's grasp he was willing to do anything.

"So what was it this time?"

"Headshot."

"I'm sorry. What? A headshot?! What were you and that woman doing now?" A frown creased his son's face. Henry stopped at a red light and tapped his foot impatiently. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Abraham threw an arm out as the car jerked forward. He'd been so focused on getting to Jo he'd forgotten to move his foot off the acceleration.

"Long story."

"I got time. Store's closed up, so we should be fine."

"Well........" Henry explained to his son the situation as he made his way across the city, and nearly balked when he saw the street they'd been on when he was killed. A bloodstain marked the sidewalk and was partially soaked into the dirt next to it, along with an indentation where he had dug his arm into the ground. Rubber streaked the asphalt and concrete.

There was no one there.

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Teaser Time! I'll put up more tonight. Oh, the joys of inspiration.....