John knew his younger self was sitting with Dad on the sofa just a few feet away from where he now stood. He dropped the envelope into the mailbox, snickered, and looked around for the star that would take him back to his own time. In a blink he was gone.
#
The front door slammed shut, and John and his Dad jerked as if becoming aware of things outside the television again.
'Those blooming shops,' Mam said. 'They were packed, Dan.'
John looked on as his father, his live, moving, and very real father got up from the sofa. It was fucking surreal!
'You Di,' said Dad, 'look beautiful.' He moved some stray strands of hair from her face and kissed her on the forehead.
Mam blushed and Dad wrapped his arms around her waist. 'Bloody charmer.' She hugged him back.
'Daddyyy!' From behind Mam, John heard his Tasmanian devil of a sister come running and watched her jump and latch onto Dad's leg.
'Well,' Dad said, 'I guess this is a group hug.' All three looked at John, who still stared in wonder at the sight before him. In a dream-like state, he got up and wrapped his arms around his parents, crushing them against him, wanting for the moment to be real, forever, perfect.
Mam laughed. 'Blimey, Dan what have you done with our teenage boy?'
Both of John's parents looked at each other and shrugged. John didn't let go. Maybe they thought he'd changed, but the truth was that they had changed. Everything had changed thanks to the Blink. God, he was so thankful for the Blink.
'Right,' Dad said after a couple minutes and pried each family member from him one by one. 'My throat is as dry as an Arab's flip flop. Who's for a cup of tea?'
'Oh yeah' --Mam kicked off her shoes and collapsed onto the sofa-- 'I'd kill for one.'
Dad looked at John with a question in his eyes, and John shook his head. 'No thanks, Dad. I've got some stuff to sort out.' He went to walk out of the room, but the door wasn't where it was supposed to be. What the fuck? John stopped and looked around. The door was to the right instead of where it was supposed to be, and a stern faced little girl stood in it with her arms folded. 'Tigger!'
John smiled, bent down, and kissed her on the forehead. 'Of course, Charlie.' 'Come on Roo, jumping is fun.' He bounced off, but Charlie didn't follow.
Instead she scowled at him briefly and turned on Dad. 'Tigerrr!'
Dad laughed. 'Okay, into the kitchen then,' he said, 'and you can have some milk and biscuits.' So Dad had replaced him? Or had he replaced Dad before Dad had come back from the dead? Mam giggled and picked up the paper, and the trio bounced into the kitchen singing the Tigger song.
In the kitchen, John lifted Charlie up onto the counter and watched with her as Dad made the tea. Life would never again be as miserable as it had been, even if Acko the Bastard got him on report again, even if Samantha Grimes never dated him. 'Don't make such a fuss Dad,' John said smiling. 'It's only a cup of tea.'
'Ah, yes,' said Dad, 'but if you're going to make something, why not do it right?'
John's eyes welled up with tears as he watched Dad and remembered the conversation he and Mam'd had just the other day in the kitchen. A morbid, sad conversation. Tea hadn't been as wonderful then. And come to think of it, the kitchen looked different. Had they remodelled it?
Mam walked into the kitchen holding the paper, a frown on her forehead. 'Dan, have you read this?'
Dad looked to what she was holding while his hands were busy with the tea making. 'Yeah Di, read it earlier. It was on the news too. Words can't express.'
'What is it Ma?' John frowned a bit too and hoped the Blink hadn't screwed something major up.
Mam flicked the paper open. A row of twenty-three young faces looked at him, young girls--almost as young as Charlie. The words above the images read 'Collector Strikes Again'. Just below the photos, in smaller writing, stood 'Possible victims of The Collector'. Something about this sounded awful familiar.
All at once deafening screams erupted from the pictures and pummelled John's mind. He nearly knocked Charlie off her feet, his hands thrust into the air, his feet fumbling backwards as if the sound itself pushed him away until he hit the ground.
The blood curdling screams cut into him, and John curled into the foetal position with his hands over his ears. God, it had to stop. The young voices screamed blood curdling cries for help, gurgling yells that bubbled to a halt and started again. John didn't want to, but in his mind he saw the girls bleeding, dying, their faces filled with terror and their eyes fading with their breath. Mam threw the paper down and the screaming stopped.
'John!' Mam was next to him, shaking him, and Dad had dropped a teacup on the floor, shattered.
'Urgh.' John wiped a hand over his face as he sat up.
'Are you okay?' Mam looked concerned.
That same ringing was in his ears, just like the first time he'd Blinked into a photo. John looked around the unfamiliar kitchen with its shiny door knobs and daffodil curtains. Fuck, that was intense.
'Yeah,' he said and looked at Mam from the corner of his eye. Did she think he was crazy too? They would never believe him if he told them what had really happened. 'I'm fine, just banged my head.' He rubbed his head so it looked more convincing. 'Don't fuss Mam. I'm fine, honest.'
Mam and Dad shared a worried look, and John got to his feet. 'I'm fine guys. No worries.' They didn't look convinced, but there was nothing more he could do, so he rubbed at his head again and sat on the chair next to Charlie.
(17y) APRIL 2005, 19.35
John lay on his bed in his room staring at the ceiling, his mind whirring with possibilities. He could do anything. He had saved his dad from death! The world was his oyster, so to speak. Could he travel the world using the Blink? All it would take were photos. Italy, Venice, Brazil, America...Or he could use the Blink to get a date with Samantha Grimes. Hmm, that might not work; she thought he was crazy. He'd acted like a real nutter the other day.
My god. He sat straight up. Fucking shit. Why hadn't he thought of it sooner? The lottery! Could he win it with the Blink? He'd need a camera; photos of each day. Yes, all he had to do was check the paper the next day, Blink back, and buy a lotto ticket with all the right numbers. He grinned and went to get his camera.
#
Later on John snuck out while no one was looking and picked up the envelope addressed to him, which he'd left himself in the mailbox--the one with tomorrow's lottery numbers on it. As soon as he stepped out of the house, the realisation hit him like a brick wall. He had been so fixated on Dad being back that he hadn't even realised this wasn't his house.
The garden was bigger, with roses off to the left and a winding footpath leading to an Oak tree on the right hand side. The house's roof looked newer, shinier, and was tiled with black tiling instead of the drab grey his house had had before. 'Fuck me, this is Ardmoore village!' He wanted to shout or dance, or faint.
The night felt hotter, his hands clammier. Fuck, was this even real? It was better than he could've dreamed or hoped. He wiped his sweaty palms on his slack jeans. In the past John and Marty'd been through this area when they'd been off adventuring for the afternoon, and now he lived here. He smiled, a toothy smile that felt too stretched. 'God I love the Blink!' He leapt into the air and fist bumped the starry sky.
Down to the bus stop he walked, opening the envelope on the way. A card and six numbers were its only contents. This was the cherry on the cake, too good to be true. Not only was Dad alive, Mam and Charlie happy and safe, but they lived in an expensive house, in a great area, and John was about to win the fucking lotto. 'Fuck, it's weird to think there may be another me kicking around.' John spun on his heels with the ridiculous smile still plastered to his face.
The bus screeched to a halt and John hopped on, heading to his old estate. Did Marty still live there? A sudden thought occurred to him: 'What if they weren't friends in this time?
'Nah,' he mumbled and shook the idea away. 'We're best mates.' Before long the bus hissed and its doors popped open. Ambling with his hands in his pockets, John made his way through the maze of houses in the old area where he'd lived before. They were so familiar, like the milk moustache on Charlie's lips just before bed. A girl sat on the wall outside Marty's house--the blonde one from smoker's corner. Shit, what was her name again? Jess? Yeah, that was it.
She looked up at him and smiled. 'He'll be out in a minute.' She leapt off the wall and landed deftly on two feet. The wall wasn't very high, but she looked more dangerous somehow, more like a rebel risk taker kind of girl, the kind you'd find dating tough Russians. 'How's it going?'
John stopped and his muscles tensed. Why was she talking to him? 'Err, yeah it's going good. How're you?'
She smiled and walked closer. 'Apart from waiting for your dip shit mate, great. How's Sam?'
'Sam?' Fuck, had he said that out loud? What Samantha was she referring to?
'Oh God,' she said. 'Have you dumped her again? She'll be gutted.'
Wait, was he dating someone? 'Sam who?'
Jess got her phone out. 'Too late.' She nodded over to her right. 'That Sam,' she said as if he were playing her for a fool. More things had changed than John'd anticipated. Who was this Samantha he was dating? Was she hot? Oh, god he hoped so.
John turned around slow, scared to look and scared not to. What if she was ugly as a cow? Samantha Grimes walked straight up to him and kissed him hard before he had a chance to process what was happening. 'Hiya gorgeous.'
The kiss brought other, dirtier things to his mind, and he had to look away to gather his thoughts. This couldn't be real. Samantha hooked her arm into Jess' and smiled at John as if she knew what he was thinking and looked forward to it.
'Right,' John said swallowing. They thought this was funny, did they? 'What the fuck is going on here?'
Before the girls could respond, John heard a familiar voice behind him. 'You made it then gay boy.'
He turned and let out a genuine sigh of relief. Marty was still just Marty. 'Yeah,' John said. 'Was waiting for you, fucking shit sniffer.'
Marty laughed. 'Touché!'
The two girls chatted and looked at their phones as if Samantha hadn't just kissed him.
'Marty, can I have a quick word mate.' He walked further down the path away from the two girls, and Marty followed. 'What is Samantha doing here?'
'We,' said Marty pointing to John, himself, and the girls, 'are going to the pictures. Ah, shit mate. You haven't dumped her again, have you?'
John looked at Samantha. So it was real. 'Fuck no!'
Marty slapped him on the back. 'Great. Come on then. The taxi you booked is waiting for us out front.' He gestured to Samantha and Jess. 'Come on you two.' The girls snapped their phones shut and stuffed them into their handbags, following Marty and John to the taxi and chatting all the way.
John was happy, probably the happiest he had been in his life. Sitting in the taxi next to the one and only Samantha Grimes, his brain started doubting. It couldn't be real. How had he booked a taxi? Future him must have known he was going to the pictures, but the real John hadn't known. He'd just wanted to find his mate. Coming here at the right time was just a coincidence, right? A well-timed accident.
And how on earth had he got Samantha Grimes to be his girlfriend? He pondered for a few minutes but came up with nothing. The last time he'd seen her she'd thought he was crazy. 'Fuck it John, just sit back and relax,' he whispered under his breath and tried to relax as the scenery sped by. With a furtive hand, he reached to Samantha Grimes' perfect, silky soft leg and slowly put his hand on her knee. Had to make the most of it while he could, right? She smiled at him, and it made him so happy he thought he might just fly out the window.
John asked the taxi to pull over before they got to the cinema, and he jumped out. 'Come on guys I want to put the lottery on!' They all got out and Jess put the numbers on for him as she was the only one who could get away with looking old enough. He stuffed the ticket in his jacket pocket and forgot about it for the night.
P.S.
Can you feel the tension? Are you holding your breath yet? What do you think's gonna happen next? Thank you to all the readers, comment-ers and voters!
© Steve Ford & Joy Cronjé 2018