Or do you?
As his mind tested reality over and over again, he walked, blindly passing people and trying hard not to make eye contact for fear of being recognized by someone--for fear of having to speak to someone unrecognizable that claimed to know him. His eyes stayed pinned to his shoes that tackled the cracks of the sidewalks on Fairview’s friendly streets, his steps tapping out a rhythm that carried him all the way to Culver Street, number 338. Presidential Studios. Washington Building.
Pamela Bergin’s home.
What was the phrase? Déjà vu, all over again? That’s what it felt like as Leonard tackled the cement walkway to the entrance, into the foyer without a security lock, then past the doors through the hallway with the dated motifs and dust-coated sconces.
He stood in front of the door labeled 5A, realizing now that although the scene played itself out almost identically as it did yesterday (minus Kevin’s presence), one clear distinction became suddenly obvious. The aroma of chicken soup was absent. In its place: cool damp must.
He knocked on the door.
He heard a shuffling noise inside--not the quickened pace of someone answering the door, but a multitude of tiny muffled patters and scratches. He placed an ear to the door.
Then he heard it. A faint mewl. A cat.
Well, I’ll be a son of a bitch, Kevin. That nose of yours is sensitive.
He knocked. No answer.
Tried the knob.
The door opened. He pushed it gently, slowly revealing the interior of Pamela Bergin’s apartment. Slightly more furnished than the apartment he’d been in yesterday--he’d come to the indecisive conclusion that everything and everyplace he’d been to yesterday was indeed an entirely different world-he worked hard to control the smile creeping up on his face at the occupants residing here. Cats. At least two dozen of them, doing what cats do best. Cleaning themselves, napping on the sofa and chairs, taking snacks from the metal bowls assembled near the sliding closet doors to the left. As he stepped inside, one pranced over and nuzzled his leg, leaving a trace of gray hair behind.
There’s no plausible explanation for this
, he thought, stepping further in and taking in the whole apartment. Some of the cats eyed him curiously, ready to spring into action just in case he had a treat of cold-cuts in his pocket. Leonard sneezed a couple of times, wiping the tears springing from his eyes. He walked to the refrigerator, opened it, saw not only cat food but food fit for human consumption as well.
He looked at the bathroom door. It was shut. “Pam?”
He paced toward it, shooing away an affectionate tabby trying hard to be Leonard’s friend. He reached out for the bathroom doorknob.
The door slammed open and from within burst a crazed Pamela Bergin. The first thing he thought--all he really had time to think about before she
laced
into him with a powerful right hook--was that she looked entirely different (what else was new?). Her hair was mussed, both eyes blackened above a makeshift bandaged nose that must’ve been broken just recently. Dried blood caked her cheeks and mouth. Her attempt at first-aid had been shoddily performed.
The pain was alarming, Leonard never having remembered taking such a blow all his life. A bump on the head, yes, perhaps an accidental head-butt. But never such a purposeful shot intended to cause pain. He staggered back, tripping over a screeching feline. He fell to the floor, butt-first, his journey down seeming an eternity as time appeared to slow, Pamela’s looming form above, approaching fast with outstretched arms ready to inflict damage.
The fall knocked the wind out of him, but didn’t hinder him from doing what came naturally. He pulled his gun, pointed it at Pamela who seemed to take it as no threat, hurling herself on top of him, clawing his eyes, screaming like a demon and trying damn hard to take a bite out of his ear. Leonard, arms pinned between them, tried to buck his way out of the situation with no avail. Pamela grasped his head by the hair and slammed it against the floor. The pain was difficult to endure, and in the fear of the moment Leonard knew that if he didn’t make his only possible move, within seconds he’d fall victim to Pam’s aggression.
Between their bodies his hand still gripped the gun, the barrel facing slightly outward, away from him, angled just enough to cause her damage--to get her away from him.
It’s self-defense
, he mentally convinced himself.
I only pray my gun works in this world.
He pulled the trigger.
Yep. It worked. Her body stiffened, arms slightly outward and trembling as if seeking balance on ice. Her face showed utter surprise, mouth open and unable to replace the air escaping the hole in her chest. Like dim spots on a deserted island, her eyes searched the room as if it were a vast ocean, desperate in their hope for a boat in the night.
Leonard managed to wriggle away, Pam’s body slumping sideways, the thud of which sent a few cats scurrying. Some felines, freaked by the sound of the gunshot, scratched furiously at the door, gouging the paint. He watched as Pam, leaving a crooked trail of blood behind, crawled to the corner of the apartment and collapsed, tears and sobs escaping her face moments before her life escaped her body.
“Your husband?”
She nodded. “Once the man in black started tripping across timelines, Richard the scientist, my husband, knew the experiment had to be terminated. The machines he built had to be destroyed, the white hole expunged. The world, time, the universe as we knew it would be in jeopardy if Richard the serial killer was given free reign of the experiment. Such a power in the wrong hands would without question prove fatal to all of mankind--it's already taken its lumps, and will continue to corrupt as long as the man in black’s game is being played.”
Putting one and one together, Richard came to a daunting yet illogical assumption. “Are you trying to say that the experiment is still running?”
“Yes...”
“But...isn’t Richard the scientist
dead? And I killed the man in black myself. What can possibly stop us from ending it at this point, here and now?”
“There’s much more to this than meets your simple, and wrong, assumption.”
Richard ran a hand through his hair. It was getting hard keeping track of everything. “Dare I ask?”
Pam grinned. “Richard the serial killer’s first step was to start eliminating the four other Richards. He first went across into the family man’s world--”
“Oh no...”
“And killed him as he slept.”
“In bed...Jesus! Now I realize. He tried to do the same thing with me!”
“Of course he did. There was no other way he could possibly get to you.”
Confusion beset Richard. Even here and now he couldn’t drum up a response to her remark. “You’ve lost me. Why?”
“For reasons still unknown, a person attempting to cross timelines can’t do so unless his alternate self is asleep in a deep non-REM state on the other side. I’m sure there’s an explainable science to it, but given the severity of the situation we hadn’t the time nor energy to research it. The fact that one’s other self must be asleep is actually a good thing though, because when tripping across timelines, a person ends up in very close proximity to them, hence keeping the tripper incognito, so to speak. So, with this directive evidently in place, the man in black had to wait until the family man was fast asleep before slipping into his bedroom. On heavy doses of medication due to his ailment, the family man had become an easy target. Richard the serial killer went into family man’s world in the middle of the night to fulfill his murderous intent, which he accomplished without a hitch. He then kidnapped his mother Julia and his daughter Debra, and took them into Richard the scientist’s world. He also took family man’s body with him. At first we didn’t understand his motivations for doing so, but realized later on he’d known all along that the family members, including the dead body, would become useful.”
Richard’s heart started pounding, pure adrenaline sending his limbs into spasms and jerks. “Are you saying that my mother and daughter are here?”
“Hold on...please understand that they’re not your mother and daughter.”
“No...” he demanded. “They are...and what do you mean become useful?
“Richard, please let me finish.”
Richard rubbed his eyes, then nodded, staring at Pam through tears of frustration. He acquiesced to Pam’s lead.
“He brought them to Richard the scientist’s lab and locked them in one of the sleeping rooms there. Knowing very well that I couldn’t fight him, I begrudgingly became a slave to his demands. So did Brutus, but he was confused because he couldn’t decide who to be loyal to anymore. As for my husband, the man in black believed him to be no threat. He kept him locked in a bare room, attending only to his basic needs.”
“Why not just kill him? Isn’t that what he intended?”
“Yes, but he claimed to be receiving, still, some useful information from the scientist through bleeding. His hunch was why not keep him alive until he couldn’t be of use anymore? But, I discovered soon enough that there was an ace hidden up my husband’s sleeve--not only was he smart, but he was cunning too. You see, he was creating false images in his head that the man in black would interpret as fact, and act upon. This would, at the very least, slow the man in black’s progress down, if not fully corrupt his ruthless intentions.”
“What kind of lies did he drum up?”
“Exactly what, I couldn’t say for sure. Scientific things. Whatever they were, however, they hindered his efforts to kill you. At least we thought they did, until we found out that we really didn’t need Richard the scientist’s deceptions after all. Thanks to you, and your sleepwalking.”
“My sleepwalking? What are you talking about? Now you’re really confusing me. I thought you said that there was nothing wrong with me!”
“There isn’t, but remember when I said that the tripper’s identity must be fully asleep in order for a successful crossing of timelines? Well, he nearly made it across two years ago, but you started sleepwalking just as he was coming through. It disrupted the vortex and he could only inflict his fury on Samantha before getting sucked back through. He tried hundreds of times since then but couldn’t make it completely across, because you never fell into a heavy non-REM sleep cycle. He would always manage to get a hand through, even his head sometimes, but again could never wholly pass through. Strangely, he found that he was able to toy with partial passing even if just your eyes were closed. This is how he was able to get the knife out of your kitchen.”
“This explains my dreams of the blue light, and the man in black. Even the periodic flashes of light while I was awake. But what about my mother, and Debra?”
“That’s why he kidnapped them. He’d known, probably through bleeding, that you’d be a problem for him. He knew that your mother and daughter were both dead in your world. This made it easy for him to use them, as they could be placed through without having to worry about their other selves being asleep, since they no longer existed in your world. He figured he might be able to lure you through by sending your mother and daughter--actually the mother and daughter of Richard the family man--through, that you’d somehow follow them back through the gate.”
“I wanted to, but I was too afraid of the blue light.”
“Your fear saved you, Richard. He would have tortured you to no end had you come through. When he realized that you weren’t coming through, he sent me in, to meet you. To seduce you. Then, kill you. He demanded I do so or...or he’d kill the child. But I also realized that there was no way he could get across, as long as you continued to sleepwalk. And, well...let’s just say that spending time with you was like having my husband back. Richard...immediately, I fell in love with you. I wanted to be with you. I knew there was no way I could allow harm to come to you. It was like having a second chance. With my husband about to die, I was rewarded with you. Richard
Sparke
. There was no way I could let you go. All I had to do was help you realize that you were safe with me.”
Richard thought back for a moment to their lovemaking in the hotel room. Even through the lingering pain, his body tingled with delight at the recent memory. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth, from the beginning?”
“I didn’t want you to know that I’d been privy to your problem all along. And I was certain you wouldn’t believe me if I did spill this story on you at the time.”
Richard let out a gush of air. “You’re probably right.” He stared at her, their eyes locking. She, Pamela Bergin, bringer of all knowledge, looked so different now. His perspective of her, his respect for her,
had reached levels he’d never be able to fully understand. She was all-knowing, all seeing. All he could do is succumb to her demands, allow her to decide his fate.
Then, a thought crossed his mind. “Pam, if you say that you loved me, then why did you attack me yesterday morning in my bedroom?”
She nodded. “Remember when I told you that it wasn’t really me that attacked you?”
Suddenly, he understood. “There’s another Pam. Right?”
“The man in black had a bit of a problem. He himself couldn’t get through. Trying to draw you in by using your mother and daughter also failed, and, as he soon discovered, I wasn’t obeying his demands of me. So, he kidnapped my double from his own timeline, who, as it turned out, had dated Richard the serial killer at one time. She also shared some of his aggressive tendencies. He told her that he’d kill her unless she killed you. Easy enough, right? There is no Heather Barron, uh, I mean Pamela Bergin in your timeline. She was able to come through, right into your home. Obviously, she was unsuccessful in her attempt to kill you.”