Before My Time Shorts: The Outsiders

The Call: 2016

Timeline B
July 2016
Narrator's POV

Bri was laying in her bed, basically watching grass grow as she recovered from her injuries sustained by the first Time Machine attempt. Lillian has been over multiple times, giving her candy and little gifts to apologize. Bri forgave her, of course, but did not enjoy having to spend the rest of her summer recovering.

Her memory of that day was vague. She only remembers what she was told. As she recovered, her body was sore and had to dress her bandages frequently as the burns recuperated. She began suffering from migraines, and pain. Luckily, these issues didn't last too long.

However, her burns did turn into scars. The scars on her head were hidden by her thick brown hair, but the scars on the inside of her legs were a little more noticeable. Through time they got smaller, and turned the thin lines of skin slightly purple and tight in certain areas so it almost looked like branches under her skin. Once, Soda asked about them, and she claimed that they were birthmarks. When he got to know the truth about her, she finally revealed that they were from a failed experiment.

During one of these days where she wasn't allowed to leave her bed, she received a phone call from an unknown number. She was going to let it ring, because she was watching Netflix, but something forced her to answer it.

Before she could say anything, an automated voice message said in a monotone voice, "hello, this a collect call from the Federal Correctional Institution in El Reno for inmate, Dallas Winston. Say yes if you'd like to accept the call."

Thinking it was a joke played by one of her friends to cheer her up while she was quarantined in her room, she laughed and said, "sure. I mean, yes."

There was a moment of silence, and Bri was curious who was on the other line. She paused the show she was watching on her computer, and was giddy about the phone call.

"Bri?" The man asked on the other line. His voice was rough, and Bri could immediately tell it was not anyone that she knew. Her smile quickly faded to confusion. This man was indeed elderly, and had been smoking for most of his life.

"Who's this?" She asked, sitting up straighter. Her palms got slightly sweaty at the fact that the man knew her name.

"It's Dally," he said, "I fucked up. Typical, right?"

Dally stood in the federal prison, calling Bri from a pay phone. He got hauled in for robbing a few grocery stores in 1998. Being almost a 70 year old man, he has seen the inside of a cell for most of his life. Back in the 60's, Bri had bailed Dally out of jail a few times for his petty crimes. Whether it be from public underage drinking, breaking car windows in parking lots, or when he's caught shoplifting. He could usually count on her.

"I'm sorry," Bri gulped, "I don't know who you are."

Dally laughed heartily. He had been waiting eighteen years to get into contact with her again. "Come on, Bri. You know me."

"Sorry, sir, but you must have the wrong number," Bri said, starting to take the phone from her ear to hang up.

"Brianna Jones do not hang up!" Dally exclaimed loud enough for her to hear.

Having this strange man know her last name as well scared her enough to put the shaky phone back up to her ear.

"What do you want?" Bri asked, darting her eyes around the room as if there was a chance he was in there. Her sixteen year old self did not recognize that name, and it made her uneasy. 

"Is Curtis there? Or one of them? Let me just talk to them."

"There is no one named Curtis here."

"Then go get them."

"I don't know who you're talking about," Bri said.

"God, Bri," Dally scoffed, "what's with the game, huh?"

"Like I said, you have the wrong number," Bri said bravely.

Dally was about to go off on her, when he stopped himself. Bri heard him sigh into the phone when he asked, "what year is it?"

Bri put a puzzled look on her face when she answered, "2016."

"Fuck," Dally grunted. He kept his cool and said, "sorry to bother you," and he threw the receiver against the wall.

He was one year too early for asking Bri for help. She hasn't met him yet.

Bri heard the dial tone, and checked her screen to see that the call had ended. She figured it was just a crackhead in jail, and waved it off as nothing. She snuggled back into her sheets, played her Netflix, and rode out the rest of the summer without giving that call a second thought.