When All is Null and Void

Chapter Twenty

 Under a pale blue sky, unmarred by gray clouds, Caleb managed a Time Hop. The fall evenings had grown shorter as winter approached, but this day was somewhat warm, summer attempting one final protest. Only forty-five minutes passed while Caleb held a staring contest with the grass. Hours had passed the last two days to no avail. He'd worked, and worked. He was supposed to Hop across the yard, turn around and slide into the past.

Trying—

Until it happened. The world frosted over like glass on a cold night. The swoop in Caleb's gut was familiar to when Alexander had brought him here. The maelstrom of light enveloped Caleb, until he was crushed on all sides. The entirety of Caleb's being, his face, his lungs, was shoved into a liminal space that didn't quite exist.

Accurate to the tiniest detail Alexander explained, Caleb was locked inside his five-minutes-ago self. Crippling déjà vu assaulted Caleb as he observed the world as it had been. Alexander was at the tree line observing.

And Caleb was stuck. His old thoughts and current thoughts collided into a deafening cacophony. Disorientation, and weightlessness, worsened the situation. The thought of experiencing this torture any longer birthed anxiety, but the current Caleb could do nothing. If he'd actually had a mouth, actually been,Caleb would have screamed.

What would happen when his past-self Hopped? Would his two selves become three, four, until there was an infinite amount of Caleb's locked in this nothingness? No, that was stupid. Alexander had said the ring wouldn't create a loop like that. But the anxiety still raked like a savage beast's claw.

The moment came; his past-self Hopped, and Caleb braced himself for whatever.

But then he was thrown onto the grass, deposited like garbage from a split and rotting sack.

"You did it!" Alexander shouted, pulling Caleb from the ground and shaking him.

"Hang on, hang on," Caleb groaned. At their jumping, the nausea reared its head, and Caleb careened behind a tree. Retching as the hot, acidic liquid spewed from his lips, Caleb heaved. He stood, wiping his lips. Caleb's nostrils burned when he breathed, and hot tears streamed down his burning cheeks.

Alexander laughed. "You have such adverse reactions to Hopping."

"Well if I stopped doing things that sent my guts into my forehead, I might be a little better at keeping it all inside." Caleb grinned, but it soon became a grimace; his teeth were gritty and woody where his molars met.

"Let's party," Alexander said once they'd come inside. He handed Caleb a white pill for his headache. "Wanna go see a movie? Get something to eat?"

"I don't have to do it again?" Caleb asked.

"Once you've done it, you can do it easier and easier each time, so we don't need to push it."

"Really?" Relief like a hot bath settled over him. Throwing back his head, Caleb said, "Thank God."

"So, food? Movie?" Alexander tapped on the counter in anticipation. He was always tapping on objects in short, staccato rhythms.

"Let's get tacos?" Caleb offered.

Alexander nodded, grabbed they keys and off they went.

The food was the kind one would expect from a small, family owned Mexican food restaurant in Silverton, oozing delectable spiciness in each bite. He may have regretted not brushing his teeth after the experience in the back yard, but the food overpowered that lingering flavor, and the gooey, melted cheddar on his nachos was greasy and glorious. After all the exercise Alexander had been forcing Caleb to do, Caleb's appetite had grown all the more difficult to manage. Caleb lost weight, gained muscle, and still wanted to eat more.