Sanguine • Ben Hargreeves²

one

Toppling onto the cobblestone ground, Eden hit her head against the solid pavement. She groaned at the pain. Taking a moment to breathe, she gingerly pulled herself from the dirtied floor. The woman looked above her as an electric surge of energy disappeared. The distant sound of a camera flickering snapped her from her momentary daze.

She whipped her head, "Ben?"

She received no response. Eden kept looking around, unable to locate any of her siblings. Growing worried, she began to stagger out of the alley. The stinging in her head persisted, and she shot her hand up to soothe the sensation only for her fingers to graze a coldness — one she wished she wasn't all-too familiar with.

Pulling back her hand, Eden was met with blood staining the tips of her fingers. She scrunched her nose as a splitting pain erupted from the side of her head.

"Fuck," she whispered.

Her feet stumbled over each other as she emerged from the dank alleyway, and she scrunched her eyes from the blinding light of neon signs only to realize she was falling over. Too late to catch herself, and far too out of it to come up with a solution, Eden braced for impact.

"Whoa there, Miss," a man said as he caught her, his old-timey accent catching her attention, "Are you all right?"

She opened her eyes and recognized the face staring at her almost immediately, "Jeremy?"

Eden stepped out of his grip, stabilizing herself on a nearby building. She watched as the man smiled.

"Pardon?" he chuckled politely, removing his hat while talking to her, "No, ma'am, I'm Randall Merdoke."

She sucked in a breath. The man was most definitely not Jeremy. In fact, she had an idea of who he was, but she was not jumping with joy at the fact.

'Oh no... don't tell me,' she internally groaned, 'Please don't tell me this is his father.'

Looking around, the woman took notice of the extreme difference of the terrain. The world around her had practically gone back in time; vintage vehicles, old barbershops, and 60's music seeping from storefronts. She returned her gaze to the man, who she assumed to be Jeremy but was proven incorrect.

She nervously bit her lip, "This may be a weird question, but... um, what year is it?"

"It's 1962," he furrowed his eyebrows, "Ma'am, are you doing okay? Is that blood?" Randall pointed to a spot on the side of her head.

Without having to reach up and inspect the wound again, she knew what the answer to his question was. However, she completely disregarded the fact. Her eyes shut once more.

Eden released a frustrated sigh, "Oh, you have got to be kidding me."

"'Fraid not," he shook his head.

"This is great. No, absolutely perfect," she grumbled through her teeth, walking away, "Thanks for saving us from the end of the world, Five, but you may have forgotten to mention the part where you would be transporting us to another freakin' time period!"