Clive Carson, 01-02: Clive was asleep, dreaming a recurring dream that inflicted a sensation that he strangely associated with a penetrative… more mercury that would coat or seep into his surroundings, over and inside himself. This was also the only way he could describe it—being enveloped by, or perhaps becoming, mercury.
Within his dream, in a world colored entirely by that churning, liquid metal, Clive stood near the edge of an unfathomable chasm that divided the land’s two halves. There were figures—with faces all-too-familiar, yet undefined and unrecognizable—lined on either side of the divide. Later, Clive would try to recall their total present in this iteration of the dream, but it would always fluctuate somewhere between eight and twelve in each attempt at remembrance.
For now, however, he dreamt. The logic of the dream had imposed itself once again—he had to jump the chasm. The odds of succeeding or plummeting were an even fifty-fif… [view original content]
First of all, Happy Birthday! I hope you're having the greatest day of them all
Now the part itself, this was a great beginning! So well written, I can't even begin to properly do it justice with my praises. I see that Clive had a dream that somehow reminded me a bit of the strange prologue. First of all, I think this was more than a dream, second, I think this is somehow related to the prologue. I also loved the talk between Clive and Melissa. I am very amazed by having her in the story, something I never thought back when I submitted the Carsons originally. I don't know when this part is set, but it seems to be before Rachel's birth. I notice that Mitch has been mentioned, so it seems he has been sherriff for a long time in the original story. I also noticed the name Amber Page and I wonder if she's in any way related to a certain other Page that comes to mind.
Against the somewhat valid arguments of his conscience, he closed his eyes and pictured her flowing yet solidified face. The odd sensation returned slightly, and he finally made the connection: she looked a great deal like Melissa, but a lot younger. Maybe there would be more of a resemblance in their wedding picture.
So.... could it be Rachel? I mean, she oughta look like her mother in some way, so I see this as one likely possibility. As far as I know, in her submission she is also younger than her mother has to be in this part, which I assume is set somewhere before her birth, so this detail that the woman in Clive's dream looks younger than Melissa also fits. However, I am not sure why Clive would dream of Rachel before she even got born. Maybe it is something else, but whatever it is, I am intrigued by this detail.
[Offer assistance.]
We don't know this guy. He could be dangerous, a psychopath or something like that, but at the same time, if he would be dangerous, he would probably just break into Clive's home instead of searching through the shed. On top of that, it has been noted that he is in some state of panic, so he might be in need of Clive's help.
Clive Carson, 01-02: Clive was asleep, dreaming a recurring dream that inflicted a sensation that he strangely associated with a penetrative… more mercury that would coat or seep into his surroundings, over and inside himself. This was also the only way he could describe it—being enveloped by, or perhaps becoming, mercury.
Within his dream, in a world colored entirely by that churning, liquid metal, Clive stood near the edge of an unfathomable chasm that divided the land’s two halves. There were figures—with faces all-too-familiar, yet undefined and unrecognizable—lined on either side of the divide. Later, Clive would try to recall their total present in this iteration of the dream, but it would always fluctuate somewhere between eight and twelve in each attempt at remembrance.
For now, however, he dreamt. The logic of the dream had imposed itself once again—he had to jump the chasm. The odds of succeeding or plummeting were an even fifty-fif… [view original content]
Hey, welcome in adulthood now and good luck! I've enjoyed the first part quite a lot, there is already quite a mystery what is going on and what this dream means.
Clive Carson, 01-02: Clive was asleep, dreaming a recurring dream that inflicted a sensation that he strangely associated with a penetrative… more mercury that would coat or seep into his surroundings, over and inside himself. This was also the only way he could describe it—being enveloped by, or perhaps becoming, mercury.
Within his dream, in a world colored entirely by that churning, liquid metal, Clive stood near the edge of an unfathomable chasm that divided the land’s two halves. There were figures—with faces all-too-familiar, yet undefined and unrecognizable—lined on either side of the divide. Later, Clive would try to recall their total present in this iteration of the dream, but it would always fluctuate somewhere between eight and twelve in each attempt at remembrance.
For now, however, he dreamt. The logic of the dream had imposed itself once again—he had to jump the chasm. The odds of succeeding or plummeting were an even fifty-fif… [view original content]
Clive Carson, 01-02: Clive was asleep, dreaming a recurring dream that inflicted a sensation that he strangely associated with a penetrative… more mercury that would coat or seep into his surroundings, over and inside himself. This was also the only way he could describe it—being enveloped by, or perhaps becoming, mercury.
Within his dream, in a world colored entirely by that churning, liquid metal, Clive stood near the edge of an unfathomable chasm that divided the land’s two halves. There were figures—with faces all-too-familiar, yet undefined and unrecognizable—lined on either side of the divide. Later, Clive would try to recall their total present in this iteration of the dream, but it would always fluctuate somewhere between eight and twelve in each attempt at remembrance.
For now, however, he dreamt. The logic of the dream had imposed itself once again—he had to jump the chasm. The odds of succeeding or plummeting were an even fifty-fif… [view original content]
Clive Carson, 01-02: Clive was asleep, dreaming a recurring dream that inflicted a sensation that he strangely associated with a penetrative… more mercury that would coat or seep into his surroundings, over and inside himself. This was also the only way he could describe it—being enveloped by, or perhaps becoming, mercury.
Within his dream, in a world colored entirely by that churning, liquid metal, Clive stood near the edge of an unfathomable chasm that divided the land’s two halves. There were figures—with faces all-too-familiar, yet undefined and unrecognizable—lined on either side of the divide. Later, Clive would try to recall their total present in this iteration of the dream, but it would always fluctuate somewhere between eight and twelve in each attempt at remembrance.
For now, however, he dreamt. The logic of the dream had imposed itself once again—he had to jump the chasm. The odds of succeeding or plummeting were an even fifty-fif… [view original content]
That was a great part! It was very interesting. But I have a question, does Melissa work at the school, or is she a student? I know she probably works there, but I just wanted to make sure.
Clive Carson, 01-02: Clive was asleep, dreaming a recurring dream that inflicted a sensation that he strangely associated with a penetrative… more mercury that would coat or seep into his surroundings, over and inside himself. This was also the only way he could describe it—being enveloped by, or perhaps becoming, mercury.
Within his dream, in a world colored entirely by that churning, liquid metal, Clive stood near the edge of an unfathomable chasm that divided the land’s two halves. There were figures—with faces all-too-familiar, yet undefined and unrecognizable—lined on either side of the divide. Later, Clive would try to recall their total present in this iteration of the dream, but it would always fluctuate somewhere between eight and twelve in each attempt at remembrance.
For now, however, he dreamt. The logic of the dream had imposed itself once again—he had to jump the chasm. The odds of succeeding or plummeting were an even fifty-fif… [view original content]
Happy (late) birthday!
That was a great part! It was very interesting. But I have a question, does Melissa work at the school, or is she … morea student? I know she probably works there, but I just wanted to make sure.
[Offer assistance]
I hope he's not some crazy dude...
It's always great to start a story with a naked person. XD
[Offer assistance] It seems like the decent thing to do. The other choice is like "whatever, I'm just gonna go drink my coffee."
Great part!
[Offer assistance.]
Hey, welcome in adulthood now and good luck! I've enjoyed the first part quite a lot, there is already quite a mystery what is going on and what this dream means.
Thanks, Liquid! But when is a weird ass dream ever just a weird ass dream? :^P Anyway, I'm happy with my decision to include Melissa in the story. It'll create an interesting dynamic as things progress. Also, the timeframe will be explained in slightly greater detail once Clive's storyline continues.
Obviously, it's Melissa's cryogenically frozen twin. Maybe that's a little less likely. Actually, come to think of it, sci-fi is probably the only genre I won't be exploring or experimenting with in Silicon County.
This choice is actually fairly consequential later on. However, it's really one-sided, but I did see this coming. After all, it's a pretty clearcut which is the appropriate option. But don't worry about Clive. The naked man really is the least of his concerns.
First of all, Happy Birthday! I hope you're having the greatest day of them all
Now the part itself, this was a great beginning! So well… more written, I can't even begin to properly do it justice with my praises. I see that Clive had a dream that somehow reminded me a bit of the strange prologue. First of all, I think this was more than a dream, second, I think this is somehow related to the prologue. I also loved the talk between Clive and Melissa. I am very amazed by having her in the story, something I never thought back when I submitted the Carsons originally. I don't know when this part is set, but it seems to be before Rachel's birth. I notice that Mitch has been mentioned, so it seems he has been sherriff for a long time in the original story. I also noticed the name Amber Page and I wonder if she's in any way related to a certain other Page that comes to mind.
Against the somewhat valid arguments of his conscience, he closed his … [view original content]
This was the outcome I expected. In the future, choices won't be as black and white. That's not to say this wasn't consquesnial—it very much was. However, being acquainted with the naked man means less for Clive than it does for the naked man, who we will learn about soon enough. Unfortunately, this one won't be the only b&w choice, but I obviously see it wasn't a difficult choice to make and will attempt to provide more challenging decisions in the future. I've made more progress in writing and a part without a choice will come out today, followed by another with a choice later this week. I'm going to perform a final read and make any alternations I see fit, then it'll be ready for posting. See you again soon!
Thomas Callahan, 01-03: A celebratory runoff had trickled into Russell Armstrong’s bar following the Silicon Sparrows’ victory in that evening’s soccer game. Thomas climbed out of his car and walked across the street, nearing the occupied strip of parking spaces in front of the crowded establishment. He navigated between a tightly packed, black Chevy pickup and an equally dated Civic Sedan—pausing to inspect the ornate gold letters on the bar’s large window that spelled out ‘Strong’s Bar—before entering the building to a bell’s chime.
Nothing really ever changes in a family business unless there’s a death in the family, Thomas decided, and Russell looked as lively as ever. Thomas was briefly reminded of all the abandoned shopfronts there in Dayton but quickly pushed that thought away. His old friend was behind the counter. Further back, the wall was covered by a large, glass display case stocked with a variety of liquor. Several lit neon signs were hung around. Russell looked up from filling a pint glass and gave a small smile amidst the bustling activity of the bar’s noisy inhabitants, almost twenty-five in total. Russell didn’t draw attention to their reunion—thank goodness—and instead initiated toward a tray set up on the counter with a diminishing number of shot glasses full of a golden liquid.
Thomas nodded, temporarily putting on a half-smile, and crossed the floor to grab himself a shot, narrowly stepping out of the way of an oblivious patron. Glass in hand, he glanced around, looking for a seat, then paused. His eyes met those of a young woman whose hair was dyed white, fading into a natural black at the roots. There was something encapsulating about her light brown eyes that made him proceed in her direction thoughtlessly.
For a mere second, he caught the gaze of another of the bar’s patrons that sat at a different booth—a man with oily black hair and a thick beard, he was dressed in a white polo shirt with a tall mug of dark fluid sitting in front of him—before Thomas had moved past him.
The woman’s booth was directly in front of bar’s window, the decorative font still pleasant if indiscernible. She looked him up and down as he stopped before her, a small smirk on her face.
“Hi,” he said. “Is anyone sitting here?”
“Help yourself.”
“Thank you.” He slid onto the bench opposite her and deposited his glass on the table, then interlaced his fingers around it. He wasn’t entirely aware of what he was doing. He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea or an appropriate time. He’d put off conversation for a prolonged moment, then quickly asked, “What’s your name?”
“You first.”
“I’m Thomas,” he introduced, extending a hand.
“Lana.” They shook, and he noted that she had soft hands and a firm handshake. They returned to their separate sides of the table.
“That’s a nice name.”
“Thanks, Tom.”
“Just Thomas,” he corrected.
“Don’t like Tom?”
“Not particularly.”
“What about Tommy?”
He shrugged, finding a genuine smile in him. “I prefer Thomas.”
She nodded, eyes falling to the reddish-brown drink that filled the pint glass in front of her. Looking up, she asked, “Are you from out of town?”
“Why, do I stand out?” He suspected as much. He hadn’t been gone too long, but a lot had changed since his departure. It certainly alienated him. Maybe that made him an outsider, too.
“Maybe a little,” she admitted. She smiled.
“Not in a bad way, I hope.”
“No,” she said simply. “You look like you’ve been traveling, though.”
“Well, I have been traveling, but I’m actually local.”
“What brings you back, then?”
He hesitated, frowning. “Family matters.”
She was clearly aware of the delay in his speech but thankfully didn’t press on the topic. She swirled her barely touched drink around absentmindedly. “Where did you return from?”
“Iraq,” Thomas answered after another moment’s pause. “I was a non-combatant with the army,” he added quickly, then realized he skirted the fact that he was a military chaplain. He drunk his shot then gently returned the glass to the table. “My time was up, and it coincided with a need to come home for a bit. I’m considering enlisting as a regular soldier, though.”
“Well, you certainly already look the part,” she said, sipping the red-brown drink.
Thomas smiled, then resisted the urge to jump when a hand slapped his shoulder. His shock was evident in the way his expression clammed-up, which, in turn, caused Lana to momentarily choke on her drink. She lowered the glass to the table, trying not to laugh, while Russell patted Thomas’s shoulder once again.
“Russell!” Thomas exclaimed with subdued laughter. Facing Lana, he added, “You startled me.”
“Sorry about that. And I’m sorry I couldn’t see you right away—busy night, what with the game—but it seems you found company.” He tilted his head in Lana’s direction and she nodded back. “Can I get you two anything? It’s on the house.”
“I’m alright,” Lana declined. She’d settled down and was now just smiling cheerfully.
“Sure,” Thomas accepted. He glanced up at the menu and found it hadn’t changed either. “Just the usual, I think. Thanks, bud.”
“Don’t mention it,” Russell said, then left. He took the empty shot glass.
Thomas watched him walk back behind the counter, then turned back at Lana, still smiling. “You saw him coming, didn’t you?”
She shrugged innocently, swishing her drink around again.
After Russell returned with Thomas’s drink, they carried the conversation for another hour about a variety of topics. Thomas finally opened up about his job as a military chaplain, about providing spiritual aid and holding a biweekly, nonmandatory service. She asked if he only administered to religious needs and he answered that he did a lot of counseling unrelated to religious, though it wasn’t necessarily his job to do so. He joked that a lot of people took him for a confessional, and she laughed even though he didn’t think it was especially funny. Lana mentioned an office job she had gotten out of recently, describing it as dull and monotonous, and was starting work at a grocery store in a customer service position soon. Still rather boring, but with fewer hours.
Eventually, she asked for the time. Thomas checked his wristwatch, which indicated that it was 11:28. The patrons had trickled out in much the same way as they had trickled in. The new total became four as a young woman whose hair was cut down to a pixie-cut pushed open the door—josling the bell into a fit of motion and ringing—and passed by the front window and its backward logo before driving off in the old, black pickup.
“11:28,” Thomas told her.
“Wanna walk me to my car?” she asked, smiling but clearly tired. He had noticed she’d gotten a little drowsy in the last fifteen minutes of conversation. The hour of night was getting to him, too. Though, he hoped deeply she hadn’t grown tired of their talk.
He nodded and they left the building together. The temperature had gotten lower than expected. He shoved his hands into his pockets for warmth, wishing he’d worn something a little thicker than his blue dress shirt. She led him past the window and around the building to where a bicycle was chained to a pipe.
“Nice car,” he commented sarcastically. “I don’t think it’ll fit in my Civic, but I’ve got some bungee cords in the trunk. We can strap it down to the roof and I’ll give you a lift home.”
“That’s alright,” she said, undoing a combination lock. “I enjoy the exercise. Anyway, are you headed home?”
He was silent again, thinking of his parents’ lakehouse. “Yeah, I guess I am. I’m gonna stay a bit longer, though.” He momentarily balanced on the balls of his feet. “Say . . . do you wanna trade numbers?”
“Yeah,” she replied. They exchanged their phone numbers and she patted his upper arm unlike the way Russell had done. While it was gentler and more affectionate, it was equally unexpected. “See ya, Thomas. Help yourself to my drink,” she said. Then she was off.
“Talk to you later!” he called after her. She managed to wave back at him while steering around the corner of the street. After she was gone, he began to feel the loneliness sink in again.
He returned to the bar, perhaps for that explicit reason, and started on her drink under the warm glow of the light suspended above the booth. Russell sat with him, they caught up on each others’ lives, and before he knew it, he had drunk the remaining seven-eighths of the pint—and it was that that made him realize he was stalling the inevitable.
He told Russell about his plans to visit his parents’ lakehouse that night before he would return to his room at the Wooded Inn, said his goodbyes, then left the booth, glancing for a moment at the man with the oily black hair. The man, seemingly a bit tipsy, didn’t look up at him. Thomas left, the bell cried, and he crossed the street.
In a minute, he was driving, and in a few more, he was out of Dayton and on the highway northeast toward Lake Salinas. It was here—cruising past the naked autumn trees on an unoccupied road, leaves blowing across the asphalt—that something began to take effect.
It hit him suddenly. He began to feel nauseated as he realized something was wrong and instantly took his foot off the gas, muttering panicked curses. The speedometer began to drop, but his eyelids were already heavy. His vision was blurring, the car’s cabin was spinning, and his body was becoming difficult to control—every correction to his course was either too much or too little—as he tried to ease onto the lip of the road, easing on the brake.
He blinked, opening his eyes again to see he’d drifted off the road entirely, feeling the car bounce on the bare earth. The trees were zipping past outside the passenger’s side window, branches breaking and scratching against the car. As a muffled crack echoed and a fracture appeared on that side of the windshield, his eyes fell shut again and he was embraced by a horrifying, drug-induced sleep.
Thomas Callahan, 01-03: A celebratory runoff had trickled into Russell Armstrong’s bar following the Silicon Sparrows’ victory in that eveni… moreng’s soccer game. Thomas climbed out of his car and walked across the street, nearing the occupied strip of parking spaces in front of the crowded establishment. He navigated between a tightly packed, black Chevy pickup and an equally dated Civic Sedan—pausing to inspect the ornate gold letters on the bar’s large window that spelled out ‘Strong’s Bar—before entering the building to a bell’s chime.
Nothing really ever changes in a family business unless there’s a death in the family, Thomas decided, and Russell looked as lively as ever. Thomas was briefly reminded of all the abandoned shopfronts there in Dayton but quickly pushed that thought away. His old friend was behind the counter. Further back, the wall was covered by a large, glass display case stocked with a variety of liquor. Several lit neon s… [view original content]
Well that was just too cute ^_^
I get the sense that Thomas has some issues. Though it'd probably be accurate to say that everyone in this story has issues.
Thomas Callahan, 01-03: A celebratory runoff had trickled into Russell Armstrong’s bar following the Silicon Sparrows’ victory in that eveni… moreng’s soccer game. Thomas climbed out of his car and walked across the street, nearing the occupied strip of parking spaces in front of the crowded establishment. He navigated between a tightly packed, black Chevy pickup and an equally dated Civic Sedan—pausing to inspect the ornate gold letters on the bar’s large window that spelled out ‘Strong’s Bar—before entering the building to a bell’s chime.
Nothing really ever changes in a family business unless there’s a death in the family, Thomas decided, and Russell looked as lively as ever. Thomas was briefly reminded of all the abandoned shopfronts there in Dayton but quickly pushed that thought away. His old friend was behind the counter. Further back, the wall was covered by a large, glass display case stocked with a variety of liquor. Several lit neon s… [view original content]
Question now is, if he took some drugs himself or someone dropped it into his drink. I guess 2nd option is more realistic. Still, it sucks what happened to him.
Thomas Callahan, 01-03: A celebratory runoff had trickled into Russell Armstrong’s bar following the Silicon Sparrows’ victory in that eveni… moreng’s soccer game. Thomas climbed out of his car and walked across the street, nearing the occupied strip of parking spaces in front of the crowded establishment. He navigated between a tightly packed, black Chevy pickup and an equally dated Civic Sedan—pausing to inspect the ornate gold letters on the bar’s large window that spelled out ‘Strong’s Bar—before entering the building to a bell’s chime.
Nothing really ever changes in a family business unless there’s a death in the family, Thomas decided, and Russell looked as lively as ever. Thomas was briefly reminded of all the abandoned shopfronts there in Dayton but quickly pushed that thought away. His old friend was behind the counter. Further back, the wall was covered by a large, glass display case stocked with a variety of liquor. Several lit neon s… [view original content]
Thomas Callahan, 01-03: A celebratory runoff had trickled into Russell Armstrong’s bar following the Silicon Sparrows’ victory in that eveni… moreng’s soccer game. Thomas climbed out of his car and walked across the street, nearing the occupied strip of parking spaces in front of the crowded establishment. He navigated between a tightly packed, black Chevy pickup and an equally dated Civic Sedan—pausing to inspect the ornate gold letters on the bar’s large window that spelled out ‘Strong’s Bar—before entering the building to a bell’s chime.
Nothing really ever changes in a family business unless there’s a death in the family, Thomas decided, and Russell looked as lively as ever. Thomas was briefly reminded of all the abandoned shopfronts there in Dayton but quickly pushed that thought away. His old friend was behind the counter. Further back, the wall was covered by a large, glass display case stocked with a variety of liquor. Several lit neon s… [view original content]
Question now is, if he took some drugs himself or someone dropped it into his drink. I guess 2nd option is more realistic. Still, it sucks what happened to him.
Forgoing the fact that Thomas got drugged, yes, very cute. It's possible we've witnessed the blossoming of a relationship, though the drugging might complicate things.
It's accurate to say that most of the characters in this story have issues. Some are more deep-seated than others. And some have no submitted issues at all.
The next part is going to be a continuation of Thomas's storyline. The part after that will likely feature Tyler!
Well that was just too cute ^_^
I get the sense that Thomas has some issues. Though it'd probably be accurate to say that everyone in this story has issues.
EDIT: Hoping that Tyler gets the next part ^_^
In retrospect, having Lana act innocent/sweet might have caused her to be really suspicious in the matter of the drugging, which wasn't necessarily my intention. You'll find there are several more suspicious customers in the bar, though.
Oh my god! Why would she do that? Unless it wasn't her... Maybe it was done by someone else while they were outside...
I did not expect what happened at the end.
That was fantastic. Great job!
What a cute and awesome part. Though I have to admit I was preparing myself for something to happen ever since Thomas saw mysterious beard man (Who I think might be my least favorite psychotic coach from the original universe.).
Thomas Callahan, 01-03: A celebratory runoff had trickled into Russell Armstrong’s bar following the Silicon Sparrows’ victory in that eveni… moreng’s soccer game. Thomas climbed out of his car and walked across the street, nearing the occupied strip of parking spaces in front of the crowded establishment. He navigated between a tightly packed, black Chevy pickup and an equally dated Civic Sedan—pausing to inspect the ornate gold letters on the bar’s large window that spelled out ‘Strong’s Bar—before entering the building to a bell’s chime.
Nothing really ever changes in a family business unless there’s a death in the family, Thomas decided, and Russell looked as lively as ever. Thomas was briefly reminded of all the abandoned shopfronts there in Dayton but quickly pushed that thought away. His old friend was behind the counter. Further back, the wall was covered by a large, glass display case stocked with a variety of liquor. Several lit neon s… [view original content]
Whoa, so... did Lana just poison Thomas? At the same time, I feel like it wasn't her, since Thomas left his beer at the bar when he brought her to his car. Literally anyone could have done that. Actually, thinking about it, Russell seems to have had the best opportunity, considering he's the barkeeper and all. Though man, that whole scene reminds me of that stuff Owen gave the Antichrist in the original story. As far as I remember, that also caused him to sleep, even if the effect happened a bit more immediate. I wonder if there is a connection between Owen's drugs from the original story and this event here and if there is, I wouldn't be surprised. Then again, I'm not sure if that particular element even survived the transition from the original to the reboot.
One thing I am a bit surprised about is the timeline though. I still try to make sense of that one. Clive and Melissa are younger, far younger (and still alive in one case) and Rachel and Alex aren't born yet. At the same time, Thomas and Lana, whom I both have thought to be roughly in Rachel's age, are here apparently at the same time as Clive's part, since the victory of the Silicon Sparrows has been mentioned in both parts. And if Lord is right with his theory, we have also seen a glimpse of Wade Pittman here, though I can't remember how that guy looked. At first, I have thought that Clive's early parts are simply set in the past, but with Thomas' parts seemingly set in the same time, I have to rethink my theory. Unless of course, the Silicon Sparrows have won in Clive's part and completely unrelated at some point in the future, in Thomas' part, which would explain a lot.
Anyways, great part again. I surely liked this one as well. Loved that interaction between Thomas and Lana
Thomas Callahan, 01-03: A celebratory runoff had trickled into Russell Armstrong’s bar following the Silicon Sparrows’ victory in that eveni… moreng’s soccer game. Thomas climbed out of his car and walked across the street, nearing the occupied strip of parking spaces in front of the crowded establishment. He navigated between a tightly packed, black Chevy pickup and an equally dated Civic Sedan—pausing to inspect the ornate gold letters on the bar’s large window that spelled out ‘Strong’s Bar—before entering the building to a bell’s chime.
Nothing really ever changes in a family business unless there’s a death in the family, Thomas decided, and Russell looked as lively as ever. Thomas was briefly reminded of all the abandoned shopfronts there in Dayton but quickly pushed that thought away. His old friend was behind the counter. Further back, the wall was covered by a large, glass display case stocked with a variety of liquor. Several lit neon s… [view original content]
I want to dispell any theories connecting the reboot to the original, so I will confirm this was a regular drug—not some weird concoction like before. Lana drunk a fraction of the spiked drink, Thomas consumed the rest, later passing out at the wheel of his car. Lana did not drug herself or Thomas. Presumbly, Lana was the intended victim. This information isn't really vital for new readers, but I'd just like to steer speculation away from the original plotline for any returning readers.
This part took place a day before the previous. But trust me, you're going to have a lot more to mull over once the next part is released. Also the format I mentioned that allowed me to write Thomas's stuff ahead of time is going to make itself known soon.
I'm glad you enjoyed it! It's going to be interesting to see how their relationship plays out.
Whoa, so... did Lana just poison Thomas? At the same time, I feel like it wasn't her, since Thomas left his beer at the bar when he brought … moreher to his car. Literally anyone could have done that. Actually, thinking about it, Russell seems to have had the best opportunity, considering he's the barkeeper and all. Though man, that whole scene reminds me of that stuff Owen gave the Antichrist in the original story. As far as I remember, that also caused him to sleep, even if the effect happened a bit more immediate. I wonder if there is a connection between Owen's drugs from the original story and this event here and if there is, I wouldn't be surprised. Then again, I'm not sure if that particular element even survived the transition from the original to the reboot.
One thing I am a bit surprised about is the timeline though. I still try to make sense of that one. Clive and Melissa are younger, far younger (and still alive in one case) and Rach… [view original content]
I want to dispell any theories connecting the reboot to the original, so I will confirm this was a regular drug—not some weird concoction li… moreke before. Lana drunk a fraction of the spiked drink, Thomas consumed the rest, later passing out at the wheel of his car. Lana did not drug herself or Thomas. Presumbly, Lana was the intended victim. This information isn't really vital for new readers, but I'd just like to steer speculation away from the original plotline for any returning readers.
This part took place a day before the previous. But trust me, you're going to have a lot more to mull over once the next part is released. Also the format I mentioned that allowed me to write Thomas's stuff ahead of time is going to make itself known soon.
I'm glad you enjoyed it! It's going to be interesting to see how their relationship plays out.
Ok, good to know. Well, I simply took it under consideration since you never know who is doing what with his body or life. Also because I easily can over think some things. :-)
I see... hm, in that case my main suspect actually is Wade Pittman. If I remember correctly, it was heavily implied or even outright confirmed in the original story that he has a habit of drugging young women and taking advantage of them, so if Lord is correct about him being in that bar, then he is certainly someone capable and willing to do such a thing. It also means that no one (probably) messed with Thomas' drink while he was outside. Though Russell still seems somehow suspicious as well, even though I don't know why he would try to drug Lana. Ah, another mystery, I love it
And well, I think it can be expected that I will read the next part super careful to see what you mean here when you say that there will be a lot for me to mull over. I can't wait for it
I want to dispell any theories connecting the reboot to the original, so I will confirm this was a regular drug—not some weird concoction li… moreke before. Lana drunk a fraction of the spiked drink, Thomas consumed the rest, later passing out at the wheel of his car. Lana did not drug herself or Thomas. Presumbly, Lana was the intended victim. This information isn't really vital for new readers, but I'd just like to steer speculation away from the original plotline for any returning readers.
This part took place a day before the previous. But trust me, you're going to have a lot more to mull over once the next part is released. Also the format I mentioned that allowed me to write Thomas's stuff ahead of time is going to make itself known soon.
I'm glad you enjoyed it! It's going to be interesting to see how their relationship plays out.
Thomas Callahan, 01-04:Sleep deeply or dream of different things. It was thought, a whisper. He didn’t think it was his own, but there was no way to be sure.
Much later, Thomas became ever so conscious of the droplets of water peppering his bare skin. There was a damp, itchy sensation that stretched along the entirety of his backside and a chill that penetrated his naked flesh. The sound of thunder coerced him into opening his eyes. He stared up at the treetops that were silhouetted against a dark gray sky, consisting of heavy rainclouds, squinting as water met his eyes.
He tried to sit up and pain raced up and down his body, an unexpected whimper escaping his throat while his eyes clenched shut. He recalled losing consciousness and presumed that was followed by a crash. Suddenly, the thought of moving and further disturbing an injury became daunting. He got to his feet cautiously, then promptly fell back onto his knees upon seeing the extent of the bruises: He looked like a piece of fruit, had it been used as a ball in a game of tennis. And why the hell am I naked?
A theory formulated in Thomas’s head: he had been thrown through the windshield and into the woods. But that didn’t adequately explain the loss of his clothes, and it dissolved fully when he couldn’t even find the damned road. He looked frantically in every direction, but it was woods as far as the trees permitted he see.
The drizzle transitioned into a light showering and Thomas painfully clambered back to his feet, muscles burning in protest. He looked for anything that might point him back toward the road and his searched turned up empty. Nothing but trees, fallen leaves, and the periodic patch of undergrowth. When he was a Boy Scout, he was taught to wait for the rescuers to come to you, but he threw that right out of the window—he wasn’t going to sit buck-naked in the middle of the woods, waiting for someone to notice his absence while lightning cracked like a whip overhead.
He picked a direction and wandered, his hands held over his privates in case someone appeared, his initial feeling of confusion now entwined with anger. He realized, horrified, he’d been drugged the moment it kicked in. He was angry about that, but he understood what had happened: someone tried to drug Lana and he ended up with the drink. She wasn’t tired or bored, she was likely feeling the effects of the drug. He felt a pang of guilt, realizing that her condition had escaped his notice. Did she make it home? Did whoever spike the drink find her? No, she’d been sipping at it for only a little less than two hours, consuming less than an eighth. He drunk the remaining seven-eighths and was knocked out before midnight. She had to have made it home, at the very least, before crashing for the night. He needed to find out for sure.
He couldn’t call her, he realized, because the slip of paper she’d given him was in his jeans, wherever the hell those were now. God, why am I naked? Where’s the wreck? Did whoever spike the drink come looking for him and, in lieu of their intended victim, decided to play a sick joke on him? It was the most likely possibility, he decided. Someone willing to drug a woman would have no qualms stripping and beating an unconscious man.
He thought back to the previous night as he hurried along, aware that he looked ridiculous—buck-naked, hunched over, and cupping himself. The evening was a bit of the blur, likely thanks to the drugging, but he remembered a few faces: the man with thick facial hair that appeared oily and the brown-haired woman with a pixie-cut who drove the black truck. He vaguely recalled the man who nearly ran into him—a droopy face adorned with a mustache—but he hadn’t kept track of him after their encounter. Russell’s bar was filled to the brim with strangers when he’d first shown up, he reminded himself. There were far too many potential culprits and things unaccounted for. He wasn’t going to conjure up the perp with a recollection.
First things first, he thought, I got to get out of the woods. Then, he’d have to suck up the embarrassment if he wanted access to a phone to call the Sheriff’s Office. If they couldn’t find Lana, he could hope to find his clothes at the wreck.
The intensity of the rain seemed to multiply tenfold and the range of his vision worryingly decreased due in part to the water in his eyes. His teeth had begun to clatter. He had almost run a mile when a tall, wooden privacy fence materialized out of the veil. Relief washed over him, followed by dread. He came to a disorderly stop, nearly falling on his ass into the mud. He briefly pondered his plan of approach, then ran, pausing after forty or so feet behind a tree.
Thomas leaned out from his hiding place, blinking away water to see an open yard at the limits of his vision. He swallowed nervously, then made a mad dash (which he suspected was more of a mad waddle) to a diagonal tree trunk. He peeked out, studying the large square of lawn, the closed-in patio, and the shed at the end of a driveway.
After failing to adequately catch his breath, calm his rattling teeth, or dispel the ceaseless shivering, he left his cover, pausing only at the thinning treeline in a moment of hesitation that he quickly overcame. He entered the yard, casting high-strung glances in all directions. As he neared it, he briefly caught his reflection in the patio’s glass, putting into perspective the extent of the bruises. Some were already yellowing. Looking at it made him feel sick, and it also confirmed his suspicion of looking absurd, so he didn’t do it again. He veered right and stepped onto concrete that was being continuously splashed by rain. It washed some of the mud and dead plant fiber that covered his feets and heels. He painfully lifted his sore arms and revealed himself for the purpose of fiddling with the shed’s lock.
The patio door made a noise and Thomas, surprised, spun at the sound, covering himself a moment later. An old man stood inside the shelter, his face cloaked with a seriousness that failed to hide a pinch of bemusement. His hair was a whitening gray that hung long and loose over his wrinkled temples.
“Get inside!” he snapped over the storm.
Thomas obliged. He ran inside like a deer that had been snapped out of its startled stupor, then remained in the enclosed patio, deathly shivering, while the old man rushed into the house to return a few moments later with several towels. With an indiscernible tone, Thomas whispered many ‘thank yous’ that seemed to go unheard as the man left again, returning after some deliberation with winter clothes. He appeared a little winded.
“Thank you,” Thomas hissed again, his jaw trembling. He began to dress, but the bruises and shaking impeded his progress.
The old man averted eyes for a moment, looking at a wall-mounted thermometer, then acknowledged him with a tense nod. “Jesus Christ, do you know how cold it is out there? What the hell are you doing wandering around buck-naked?”
Thomas considered his reply, a difficult feat in his condition. Perhaps if he’d been more clear-headed, he might have left a few things out. However, he wasn’t and he didn’t. In his unadulterated recounting of the previously night, they migrated into the living room. The man turned on the gas fireplace and gave Thomas a heavy wool blanket that he wrapped himself. It was uncomfortably prickly, but it was warm and that more than made up for it. Thomas sat on the hearth, his back to the fire with the wooly buffer, while the man listened attentively from the sofa, his expression becoming grave when the retelling reached the drugging and car crash until finally arriving at the present.
“What did you hear again?” the old man asked once he was finished.
Thomas found it odd that was his first question. Now, he was coherent enough to realize after the fact that he probably could have kept that bit to himself. “‘Sleep deeply or dream of different things’,” he repeated. “It was probably an auditory hallucination conjured up by the drug that I completed in my head.”
The man nodded, uneasy, then changed topics. “Well, then, I feel like I should know the name of the man wearing my boxers.”
Embarrassment struck him but he didn’t recoil. “Thomas,” he answered—he’d already given so much identifying information, why bother being tight-lipped now? “And who should I be thanking?”
“Call me Clive.”
A moment of unpleasant recognition crossed Thomas’s face, not necessarily directed at his rescuer, before he corrected it, and said, “Thank you, Clive.” He was legitimately grateful.
Clive smiled, a sad gleam flickering in his eyes. He pressed down on his knees, rising with a huff of breath. “Not every day you meet someone famous, huh?” His voice was devoid of condescension.
“No, I--” Thomas stopped talking because Clive had left the living and entered the kitchen. He heard water pouring as he approached, taking the itchy blanket with him. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I hope I didn’t offend you.”
Clive punched a few buttons on the coffee maker and it began to hum. “Not at all.” He didn’t sound offended. More entertained than anything else.
Thomas hesitated, feeling the need to excuse himself. “My father read your horror books. When I was younger, I read one once and it scared me really badly,” he lied. “That’s what the… grimace… was about.”
“Well, which one was it?”
“I’m not sure. You always had… long titles.” Thomas had seen the barely touched plate of breakfast and suddenly realized how hungry was.
Clive laughed in a wooden but friendly way, pulling a mug from the cabinet. “Exhaustive is the word you’re looking for. Well, give it shot.”
Away from the fire, the cold began to hound him again. He wanted to go back to it soon, and that food was appealing. “A Shadow in the Night?” he tried, unsure.
Clive nodded understandingly, tearing the top off a paper packet and dumping the light brown contents into the mug. “Hmm. Bingo. I think.”
Clive noticed that Thomas was trying and failing to avoid looking at the plate of breakfast. “Help yourself. I’m not particularly hungry. I only picked at it.”
Steaming water spurted from the nozzle and the interior of the coffee pot thickened with condensation. Clive poured hot water then stirred the drink before handing it to Thomas, who unfortunately had to relinquish a corner of the blanket to take the hot chocolate and the plate, but it was well worth it. They returned to the living room and their separate spots, the fire once again radiating its heat through the blanket and onto his back as he began to inhale the food.
Clive sipped at his lukewarm coffee he’d retrieved from the dining table. His tone became serious as he spoke. “You really think the guy who spiked the drink… you think he did this to you?”
“That’s my leading theory,” Thomas replied, scalding his tongue but drinking despite it. He resumed eating, then finished quicker than he had expected. He sat the plate aside.
“Well, you’re beat to hell regardless,” Clive commented, looking him over again, focusing on a nasty bruise that climbed his neck. “Do you need a ride to the hospital?”
“No,” he said, the sudden strain in his voice caused by a twitching muscle suggesting otherwise. “Maybe,” he corrected reluctantly. He sat down the mug and began to massage his forearm where the offending muscle was located, but stopped when it caused more aggravation than it relieved. “But I need to speak to the woman I mentioned. I need to make sure she’s okay. Her phone number should be at the wreck.”
“I could give you a ride to either place,” Clive offered, sipping again. “Halfway to Lake Salinas isn’t too far. After you’re done there, I can take you into Dayton. I’m okay driving you as long as I get back before Melissa.”
Thomas nodded. If he tended to his well-being and visited the hospital, contacting the proper authorities—the Sheriffs Office, certainly—the bureaucracy of it all would surely slow him down. What he wanted was a quick answer, but maybe that wasn’t what he truly needed. Going back to the wreck was not the proper way to handle the situation, and it was a little thoughtless, but if he found Lana’s phone number, he could contact her quickly and find out as soon as possible.
[Go to the hospital.] If whatever he was drugged with is still in his system maybe the hospital can tell what it is. Best to make sure there's no lasting damage anyway.
Thomas Callahan, 01-04: Sleep deeply or dream of different things. It was thought, a whisper. He didn’t think it was his own, but there was … moreno way to be sure.
Much later, Thomas became ever so conscious of the droplets of water peppering his bare skin. There was a damp, itchy sensation that stretched along the entirety of his backside and a chill that penetrated his naked flesh. The sound of thunder coerced him into opening his eyes. He stared up at the treetops that were silhouetted against a dark gray sky, consisting of heavy rainclouds, squinting as water met his eyes.
He tried to sit up and pain raced up and down his body, an unexpected whimper escaping his throat while his eyes clenched shut. He recalled losing consciousness and presumed that was followed by a crash. Suddenly, the thought of moving and further disturbing an injury became daunting. He got to his feet cautiously, then promptly fell back onto his knees upon seeing the… [view original content]
Alright, alright, alright then! I think I have finally an idea what is going on! This is either a completely ridiculous crack theory, or it is somehow correct. In any way, it is a far shot, but I finally think I have a theory that makes sense about the timeline. This is not a flashback set in the backstory of Clive before his children were born, this is a parrallel universe in which they don't exist. It took me a while to get it, but there are several hints to that:
First of all, this part confirms that Clive is old, probably as old as he was in the original story, back when Rachel was in her twenties and Alex was in his late teens. So far, his children have not been mentioned and it is unlikely that they are just out of town or something like that. So, these parts can't be set before their birth, since it is unlikely that Melissa is at an age where she's even still able to give birth to two children.
Second, Melissa is still alive and since complications with Alex' birth was the direct cause of her death, this implies that she never gave birth to him in the first place in this timeline, therefore staying alive.
Third, Clive did not recognize Rachel back in his dream, even if it probably was her. That woman he saw looked a lot like Melissa, but younger. If Rachel would exist in this timeline, Clive would have likely come to the same conclusion as I did, even if she would be much younger at the time of this part. This implies that she does not exist either.
Since Rachel and Alex are both in the character list and since Rachel likely was the woman from his dream, this means that they probably exist somewhere, just not in the timeline/universe this part is set it. I mean, they were both mentioned in Clive's prologue, so at least that one was set in a universe where both of them exist.
Alternatively, this could not be an alternate timeline or parrallel universe, but something like a hallucination. I have remembered the show Supernatural and there was one episode in the second Season in which Dean Winchester was put into a magical coma by a Djinn and meanwhile dreamt that he was in a world in which he lived a normal life. Perhaps it is similar to Clive, just without a Djinn of course, that he hallucinates about a world in which he and Melissa never had children. The fact that Thomas is there as well and Lana, maybe Wade Pittman as well, could hint at something weird going on in the entire town of Silicon. I remember that you mentioned in the original story that some of the events would have affected large parts of the towns population and maybe something similar is going on here. His dream about Rachel could be her trying to reach him somehow.
So, yeah, those are my two theories. Maybe I am right with at least one of them, maybe I am wrong. I am not sure if I should feel like Sherlock Holmes or some tinfoil-wearing nutjob that believes in chemtrails. Guess time will tell.
Now for the choice:
[Go to the hospital.]
I agree with Agent. If there is anything still in his system, it could be dangerous to waste time. In his current situation, it will be hard for him to help Lana either way if something happened to her. So, let's play it save and hope for the best.
Thomas Callahan, 01-04: Sleep deeply or dream of different things. It was thought, a whisper. He didn’t think it was his own, but there was … moreno way to be sure.
Much later, Thomas became ever so conscious of the droplets of water peppering his bare skin. There was a damp, itchy sensation that stretched along the entirety of his backside and a chill that penetrated his naked flesh. The sound of thunder coerced him into opening his eyes. He stared up at the treetops that were silhouetted against a dark gray sky, consisting of heavy rainclouds, squinting as water met his eyes.
He tried to sit up and pain raced up and down his body, an unexpected whimper escaping his throat while his eyes clenched shut. He recalled losing consciousness and presumed that was followed by a crash. Suddenly, the thought of moving and further disturbing an injury became daunting. He got to his feet cautiously, then promptly fell back onto his knees upon seeing the… [view original content]
So your theory is that Nohope decided to pull a Multiverse Prime on us? I mean I did refrence Silicon a lot but I'm not sure if it was enough to base a plot around it .
But being serious I'm not really on board with this whole Silicon Prime theory yet. I could really just be that Clive hasn't mentioned his children yet.
Alright, alright, alright then! I think I have finally an idea what is going on! This is either a completely ridiculous crack theory, or it … moreis somehow correct. In any way, it is a far shot, but I finally think I have a theory that makes sense about the timeline. This is not a flashback set in the backstory of Clive before his children were born, this is a parrallel universe in which they don't exist. It took me a while to get it, but there are several hints to that:
First of all, this part confirms that Clive is old, probably as old as he was in the original story, back when Rachel was in her twenties and Alex was in his late teens. So far, his children have not been mentioned and it is unlikely that they are just out of town or something like that. So, these parts can't be set before their birth, since it is unlikely that Melissa is at an age where she's even still able to give birth to two children.
Second, Melissa is still alive and si… [view original content]
Well, the thing is, in the Carson's submission, it has been mentioned that Melissa died due to complications during Alexander's birth. On top of that, the very same scenario was described in the prologue, where Clive just returned home after Melissa's death, so it has been established in the story that she is dead, at least in some universe/timeline or if this is a hallucination, in the world outside of the hallucination. In the current parts, she seems alive and well, so unless he found another woman by the name of Melissa, that already hints at two timelines/two universes, or something like this hallucination theory I brought up afterwards. And on top of that, the fact that Clive likely saw Rachel without recognizing her in his dream hints at her not existing in the timeline of these events or in this hallucination. I honestly see it as highly unlikely that they just haven't been mentioned yet.
So your theory is that Nohope decided to pull a Multiverse Prime on us? I mean I did refrence Silicon a lot but I'm not sure if it was enoug… moreh to base a plot around it .
But being serious I'm not really on board with this whole Silicon Prime theory yet. I could really just be that Clive hasn't mentioned his children yet.
Well, the thing is, in the Carson's submission, it has been mentioned that Melissa died due to complications during Alexander's birth. On to… morep of that, the very same scenario was described in the prologue, where Clive just returned home after Melissa's death, so it has been established in the story that she is dead, at least in some universe/timeline or if this is a hallucination, in the world outside of the hallucination. In the current parts, she seems alive and well, so unless he found another woman by the name of Melissa, that already hints at two timelines/two universes, or something like this hallucination theory I brought up afterwards. And on top of that, the fact that Clive likely saw Rachel without recognizing her in his dream hints at her not existing in the timeline of these events or in this hallucination. I honestly see it as highly unlikely that they just haven't been mentioned yet.
Alright, alright, alright then! I think I have finally an idea what is going on! This is either a completely ridiculous crack theory, or it … moreis somehow correct. In any way, it is a far shot, but I finally think I have a theory that makes sense about the timeline. This is not a flashback set in the backstory of Clive before his children were born, this is a parrallel universe in which they don't exist. It took me a while to get it, but there are several hints to that:
First of all, this part confirms that Clive is old, probably as old as he was in the original story, back when Rachel was in her twenties and Alex was in his late teens. So far, his children have not been mentioned and it is unlikely that they are just out of town or something like that. So, these parts can't be set before their birth, since it is unlikely that Melissa is at an age where she's even still able to give birth to two children.
Second, Melissa is still alive and si… [view original content]
Thomas Callahan, 01-04: Sleep deeply or dream of different things. It was thought, a whisper. He didn’t think it was his own, but there was … moreno way to be sure.
Much later, Thomas became ever so conscious of the droplets of water peppering his bare skin. There was a damp, itchy sensation that stretched along the entirety of his backside and a chill that penetrated his naked flesh. The sound of thunder coerced him into opening his eyes. He stared up at the treetops that were silhouetted against a dark gray sky, consisting of heavy rainclouds, squinting as water met his eyes.
He tried to sit up and pain raced up and down his body, an unexpected whimper escaping his throat while his eyes clenched shut. He recalled losing consciousness and presumed that was followed by a crash. Suddenly, the thought of moving and further disturbing an injury became daunting. He got to his feet cautiously, then promptly fell back onto his knees upon seeing the… [view original content]
You mean it is more plausible than that theory that Lana has a split personality which is secretly a serial killer? Surely you must be jesting, because the Evil Lana theory was the most plausible and thought-out theory I ever had!
Well, let's hope we're not crazy then Though I actually had an idea that might take this even further and there is some additional evidence to it. In the prologues, we saw the PoV's at undeniably the worst moments in their lives. Now at least Clive's worst moment apparently never happened with Melissa still being alive and well and both of them having grown old together. Having reread Thomas' first part, it seems he returned home because his mandatory time in the army was up and not because there has been a murder suicide in his family, meaning that his parents might still be alive, or died from natural causes instead. Or maybe he was lying to Lana to avoid an unpleasant topic, but still, he didn't even think about this murder suicide, which makes me think it never happened in the first place here. And once we get our first glimpse of Tyler aside from the prologue, which I am sure can't be too far away now, then my theory might be proven further, because if I am correct, then whatever happened in his prologue that got Mikey killed might not have happened in this timeline. If Melissa is still alive and if Thomas' father did not commit a murder suicide, then it would be a logical conclusion that Mikey is still alive as well, at least in this weird parrallel universe/hallucination thingy that might go on here. In that case, it seems at least the PoV's are now experiencing the kind of reality they probably long for at the bottom of their heart.
Well, let's hope we're not crazy then Though I actually had an idea that might take this even further and there is some additional evidence… more to it. In the prologues, we saw the PoV's at undeniably the worst moments in their lives. Now at least Clive's worst moment apparently never happened with Melissa still being alive and well and both of them having grown old together. Having reread Thomas' first part, it seems he returned home because his mandatory time in the army was up and not because there has been a murder suicide in his family, meaning that his parents might still be alive, or died from natural causes instead. Or maybe he was lying to Lana to avoid an unpleasant topic, but still, he didn't even think about this murder suicide, which makes me think it never happened in the first place here. And once we get our first glimpse of Tyler aside from the prologue, which I am sure can't be too far away now, then my theory might be proven fur… [view original content]
Comments
[Offer assistance.]
Amazing start.
Also Happy Birthday. I still have 2 years before I'm an adult so I can't relate yet, but I hope its good.
First of all, Happy Birthday! I hope you're having the greatest day of them all
Now the part itself, this was a great beginning! So well written, I can't even begin to properly do it justice with my praises. I see that Clive had a dream that somehow reminded me a bit of the strange prologue. First of all, I think this was more than a dream, second, I think this is somehow related to the prologue. I also loved the talk between Clive and Melissa. I am very amazed by having her in the story, something I never thought back when I submitted the Carsons originally. I don't know when this part is set, but it seems to be before Rachel's birth. I notice that Mitch has been mentioned, so it seems he has been sherriff for a long time in the original story. I also noticed the name Amber Page and I wonder if she's in any way related to a certain other Page that comes to mind.
So.... could it be Rachel? I mean, she oughta look like her mother in some way, so I see this as one likely possibility. As far as I know, in her submission she is also younger than her mother has to be in this part, which I assume is set somewhere before her birth, so this detail that the woman in Clive's dream looks younger than Melissa also fits. However, I am not sure why Clive would dream of Rachel before she even got born. Maybe it is something else, but whatever it is, I am intrigued by this detail.
[Offer assistance.]
We don't know this guy. He could be dangerous, a psychopath or something like that, but at the same time, if he would be dangerous, he would probably just break into Clive's home instead of searching through the shed. On top of that, it has been noted that he is in some state of panic, so he might be in need of Clive's help.
[Offer assistance.]
Hey, welcome in adulthood now and good luck! I've enjoyed the first part quite a lot, there is already quite a mystery what is going on and what this dream means.
It's always great to start a story with a naked person. XD
[Offer assistance] It seems like the decent thing to do. The other choice is like "whatever, I'm just gonna go drink my coffee."
Great part!
[offer assistance]
Great start to this already! I'm glad I found it when I did! I've already submitted a character, if that's alright.
Welcome.
Name's Lord, happy to meet you
Happy (late) birthday!
That was a great part! It was very interesting. But I have a question, does Melissa work at the school, or is she a student? I know she probably works there, but I just wanted to make sure.
[Offer assistance]
I hope he's not some crazy dude...
Melissa is a teacher. Her specific role as a teacher will be defined at a later point. But no, Clive is not married to a high schooler lol
Welcome abroad! I'm happy to have you here. And Macie is a really wonderfully character. Thank you for her!
How else does one start a story? :^P
"I ain't seen nothing."
Thank you!
Hehe, thanks! I'm glad you've enjoyed the first real part. And there's going to be quite a bit of mystery here!
Thanks, Liquid! But when is a weird ass dream ever just a weird ass dream? :^P Anyway, I'm happy with my decision to include Melissa in the story. It'll create an interesting dynamic as things progress. Also, the timeframe will be explained in slightly greater detail once Clive's storyline continues.
Obviously, it's Melissa's cryogenically frozen twin. Maybe that's a little less likely. Actually, come to think of it, sci-fi is probably the only genre I won't be exploring or experimenting with in Silicon County.
This choice is actually fairly consequential later on. However, it's really one-sided, but I did see this coming. After all, it's a pretty clearcut which is the appropriate option. But don't worry about Clive. The naked man really is the least of his concerns.
Thanks, Lord! I"m glad you've liked! By the way, Lana is getting introduced this chapter!
YEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
......I mean. calm reaction I'm too excited to write
And no problem I love this story and this remake seems even better.
Voting is closed!
(!) Clive will attempt to assist the naked man
This was the outcome I expected. In the future, choices won't be as black and white. That's not to say this wasn't consquesnial—it very much was. However, being acquainted with the naked man means less for Clive than it does for the naked man, who we will learn about soon enough. Unfortunately, this one won't be the only b&w choice, but I obviously see it wasn't a difficult choice to make and will attempt to provide more challenging decisions in the future. I've made more progress in writing and a part without a choice will come out today, followed by another with a choice later this week. I'm going to perform a final read and make any alternations I see fit, then it'll be ready for posting. See you again soon!
Thomas Callahan, 01-03: A celebratory runoff had trickled into Russell Armstrong’s bar following the Silicon Sparrows’ victory in that evening’s soccer game. Thomas climbed out of his car and walked across the street, nearing the occupied strip of parking spaces in front of the crowded establishment. He navigated between a tightly packed, black Chevy pickup and an equally dated Civic Sedan—pausing to inspect the ornate gold letters on the bar’s large window that spelled out ‘Strong’s Bar—before entering the building to a bell’s chime.
Nothing really ever changes in a family business unless there’s a death in the family, Thomas decided, and Russell looked as lively as ever. Thomas was briefly reminded of all the abandoned shopfronts there in Dayton but quickly pushed that thought away. His old friend was behind the counter. Further back, the wall was covered by a large, glass display case stocked with a variety of liquor. Several lit neon signs were hung around. Russell looked up from filling a pint glass and gave a small smile amidst the bustling activity of the bar’s noisy inhabitants, almost twenty-five in total. Russell didn’t draw attention to their reunion—thank goodness—and instead initiated toward a tray set up on the counter with a diminishing number of shot glasses full of a golden liquid.
Thomas nodded, temporarily putting on a half-smile, and crossed the floor to grab himself a shot, narrowly stepping out of the way of an oblivious patron. Glass in hand, he glanced around, looking for a seat, then paused. His eyes met those of a young woman whose hair was dyed white, fading into a natural black at the roots. There was something encapsulating about her light brown eyes that made him proceed in her direction thoughtlessly.
For a mere second, he caught the gaze of another of the bar’s patrons that sat at a different booth—a man with oily black hair and a thick beard, he was dressed in a white polo shirt with a tall mug of dark fluid sitting in front of him—before Thomas had moved past him.
The woman’s booth was directly in front of bar’s window, the decorative font still pleasant if indiscernible. She looked him up and down as he stopped before her, a small smirk on her face.
“Hi,” he said. “Is anyone sitting here?”
“Help yourself.”
“Thank you.” He slid onto the bench opposite her and deposited his glass on the table, then interlaced his fingers around it. He wasn’t entirely aware of what he was doing. He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea or an appropriate time. He’d put off conversation for a prolonged moment, then quickly asked, “What’s your name?”
“You first.”
“I’m Thomas,” he introduced, extending a hand.
“Lana.” They shook, and he noted that she had soft hands and a firm handshake. They returned to their separate sides of the table.
“That’s a nice name.”
“Thanks, Tom.”
“Just Thomas,” he corrected.
“Don’t like Tom?”
“Not particularly.”
“What about Tommy?”
He shrugged, finding a genuine smile in him. “I prefer Thomas.”
She nodded, eyes falling to the reddish-brown drink that filled the pint glass in front of her. Looking up, she asked, “Are you from out of town?”
“Why, do I stand out?” He suspected as much. He hadn’t been gone too long, but a lot had changed since his departure. It certainly alienated him. Maybe that made him an outsider, too.
“Maybe a little,” she admitted. She smiled.
“Not in a bad way, I hope.”
“No,” she said simply. “You look like you’ve been traveling, though.”
“Well, I have been traveling, but I’m actually local.”
“What brings you back, then?”
He hesitated, frowning. “Family matters.”
She was clearly aware of the delay in his speech but thankfully didn’t press on the topic. She swirled her barely touched drink around absentmindedly. “Where did you return from?”
“Iraq,” Thomas answered after another moment’s pause. “I was a non-combatant with the army,” he added quickly, then realized he skirted the fact that he was a military chaplain. He drunk his shot then gently returned the glass to the table. “My time was up, and it coincided with a need to come home for a bit. I’m considering enlisting as a regular soldier, though.”
“Well, you certainly already look the part,” she said, sipping the red-brown drink.
Thomas smiled, then resisted the urge to jump when a hand slapped his shoulder. His shock was evident in the way his expression clammed-up, which, in turn, caused Lana to momentarily choke on her drink. She lowered the glass to the table, trying not to laugh, while Russell patted Thomas’s shoulder once again.
“Russell!” Thomas exclaimed with subdued laughter. Facing Lana, he added, “You startled me.”
“Sorry about that. And I’m sorry I couldn’t see you right away—busy night, what with the game—but it seems you found company.” He tilted his head in Lana’s direction and she nodded back. “Can I get you two anything? It’s on the house.”
“I’m alright,” Lana declined. She’d settled down and was now just smiling cheerfully.
“Sure,” Thomas accepted. He glanced up at the menu and found it hadn’t changed either. “Just the usual, I think. Thanks, bud.”
“Don’t mention it,” Russell said, then left. He took the empty shot glass.
Thomas watched him walk back behind the counter, then turned back at Lana, still smiling. “You saw him coming, didn’t you?”
She shrugged innocently, swishing her drink around again.
After Russell returned with Thomas’s drink, they carried the conversation for another hour about a variety of topics. Thomas finally opened up about his job as a military chaplain, about providing spiritual aid and holding a biweekly, nonmandatory service. She asked if he only administered to religious needs and he answered that he did a lot of counseling unrelated to religious, though it wasn’t necessarily his job to do so. He joked that a lot of people took him for a confessional, and she laughed even though he didn’t think it was especially funny. Lana mentioned an office job she had gotten out of recently, describing it as dull and monotonous, and was starting work at a grocery store in a customer service position soon. Still rather boring, but with fewer hours.
Eventually, she asked for the time. Thomas checked his wristwatch, which indicated that it was 11:28. The patrons had trickled out in much the same way as they had trickled in. The new total became four as a young woman whose hair was cut down to a pixie-cut pushed open the door—josling the bell into a fit of motion and ringing—and passed by the front window and its backward logo before driving off in the old, black pickup.
“11:28,” Thomas told her.
“Wanna walk me to my car?” she asked, smiling but clearly tired. He had noticed she’d gotten a little drowsy in the last fifteen minutes of conversation. The hour of night was getting to him, too. Though, he hoped deeply she hadn’t grown tired of their talk.
He nodded and they left the building together. The temperature had gotten lower than expected. He shoved his hands into his pockets for warmth, wishing he’d worn something a little thicker than his blue dress shirt. She led him past the window and around the building to where a bicycle was chained to a pipe.
“Nice car,” he commented sarcastically. “I don’t think it’ll fit in my Civic, but I’ve got some bungee cords in the trunk. We can strap it down to the roof and I’ll give you a lift home.”
“That’s alright,” she said, undoing a combination lock. “I enjoy the exercise. Anyway, are you headed home?”
He was silent again, thinking of his parents’ lakehouse. “Yeah, I guess I am. I’m gonna stay a bit longer, though.” He momentarily balanced on the balls of his feet. “Say . . . do you wanna trade numbers?”
“Yeah,” she replied. They exchanged their phone numbers and she patted his upper arm unlike the way Russell had done. While it was gentler and more affectionate, it was equally unexpected. “See ya, Thomas. Help yourself to my drink,” she said. Then she was off.
“Talk to you later!” he called after her. She managed to wave back at him while steering around the corner of the street. After she was gone, he began to feel the loneliness sink in again.
He returned to the bar, perhaps for that explicit reason, and started on her drink under the warm glow of the light suspended above the booth. Russell sat with him, they caught up on each others’ lives, and before he knew it, he had drunk the remaining seven-eighths of the pint—and it was that that made him realize he was stalling the inevitable.
He told Russell about his plans to visit his parents’ lakehouse that night before he would return to his room at the Wooded Inn, said his goodbyes, then left the booth, glancing for a moment at the man with the oily black hair. The man, seemingly a bit tipsy, didn’t look up at him. Thomas left, the bell cried, and he crossed the street.
In a minute, he was driving, and in a few more, he was out of Dayton and on the highway northeast toward Lake Salinas. It was here—cruising past the naked autumn trees on an unoccupied road, leaves blowing across the asphalt—that something began to take effect.
It hit him suddenly. He began to feel nauseated as he realized something was wrong and instantly took his foot off the gas, muttering panicked curses. The speedometer began to drop, but his eyelids were already heavy. His vision was blurring, the car’s cabin was spinning, and his body was becoming difficult to control—every correction to his course was either too much or too little—as he tried to ease onto the lip of the road, easing on the brake.
He blinked, opening his eyes again to see he’d drifted off the road entirely, feeling the car bounce on the bare earth. The trees were zipping past outside the passenger’s side window, branches breaking and scratching against the car. As a muffled crack echoed and a fracture appeared on that side of the windshield, his eyes fell shut again and he was embraced by a horrifying, drug-induced sleep.
To be continued...
Oh my god! Why would she do that? Unless it wasn't her... Maybe it was done by someone else while they were outside...
I did not expect what happened at the end.
That was fantastic. Great job!
Well that was just too cute ^_^
I get the sense that Thomas has some issues. Though it'd probably be accurate to say that everyone in this story has issues.
EDIT: Hoping that Tyler gets the next part ^_^
Question now is, if he took some drugs himself or someone dropped it into his drink. I guess 2nd option is more realistic. Still, it sucks what happened to him.
Well.... That went from kinda cute and innocent to drug-induced coma in like .32 seconds.
He didn't drug himself, I can tell you that much.
Forgoing the fact that Thomas got drugged, yes, very cute. It's possible we've witnessed the blossoming of a relationship, though the drugging might complicate things.
It's accurate to say that most of the characters in this story have issues. Some are more deep-seated than others. And some have no submitted issues at all.
The next part is going to be a continuation of Thomas's storyline. The part after that will likely feature Tyler!
In retrospect, having Lana act innocent/sweet might have caused her to be really suspicious in the matter of the drugging, which wasn't necessarily my intention. You'll find there are several more suspicious customers in the bar, though.
Thanks!
LANAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
What a cute and awesome part. Though I have to admit I was preparing myself for something to happen ever since Thomas saw mysterious beard man (Who I think might be my least favorite psychotic coach from the original universe.).
Great job man .
Whoa, so... did Lana just poison Thomas? At the same time, I feel like it wasn't her, since Thomas left his beer at the bar when he brought her to his car. Literally anyone could have done that. Actually, thinking about it, Russell seems to have had the best opportunity, considering he's the barkeeper and all. Though man, that whole scene reminds me of that stuff Owen gave the Antichrist in the original story. As far as I remember, that also caused him to sleep, even if the effect happened a bit more immediate. I wonder if there is a connection between Owen's drugs from the original story and this event here and if there is, I wouldn't be surprised. Then again, I'm not sure if that particular element even survived the transition from the original to the reboot.
One thing I am a bit surprised about is the timeline though. I still try to make sense of that one. Clive and Melissa are younger, far younger (and still alive in one case) and Rachel and Alex aren't born yet. At the same time, Thomas and Lana, whom I both have thought to be roughly in Rachel's age, are here apparently at the same time as Clive's part, since the victory of the Silicon Sparrows has been mentioned in both parts. And if Lord is right with his theory, we have also seen a glimpse of Wade Pittman here, though I can't remember how that guy looked. At first, I have thought that Clive's early parts are simply set in the past, but with Thomas' parts seemingly set in the same time, I have to rethink my theory. Unless of course, the Silicon Sparrows have won in Clive's part and completely unrelated at some point in the future, in Thomas' part, which would explain a lot.
Anyways, great part again. I surely liked this one as well. Loved that interaction between Thomas and Lana
I want to dispell any theories connecting the reboot to the original, so I will confirm this was a regular drug—not some weird concoction like before. Lana drunk a fraction of the spiked drink, Thomas consumed the rest, later passing out at the wheel of his car. Lana did not drug herself or Thomas. Presumbly, Lana was the intended victim. This information isn't really vital for new readers, but I'd just like to steer speculation away from the original plotline for any returning readers.
This part took place a day before the previous. But trust me, you're going to have a lot more to mull over once the next part is released. Also the format I mentioned that allowed me to write Thomas's stuff ahead of time is going to make itself known soon.
I'm glad you enjoyed it! It's going to be interesting to see how their relationship plays out.
Hope, this comment you just made was comment 666.................................What is hidden here to warrant that I wonder.
Ok, good to know. Well, I simply took it under consideration since you never know who is doing what with his body or life. Also because I easily can over think some things. :-)
I see... hm, in that case my main suspect actually is Wade Pittman. If I remember correctly, it was heavily implied or even outright confirmed in the original story that he has a habit of drugging young women and taking advantage of them, so if Lord is correct about him being in that bar, then he is certainly someone capable and willing to do such a thing. It also means that no one (probably) messed with Thomas' drink while he was outside. Though Russell still seems somehow suspicious as well, even though I don't know why he would try to drug Lana. Ah, another mystery, I love it
And well, I think it can be expected that I will read the next part super careful to see what you mean here when you say that there will be a lot for me to mull over. I can't wait for it
Thomas Callahan, 01-04: Sleep deeply or dream of different things. It was thought, a whisper. He didn’t think it was his own, but there was no way to be sure.
Much later, Thomas became ever so conscious of the droplets of water peppering his bare skin. There was a damp, itchy sensation that stretched along the entirety of his backside and a chill that penetrated his naked flesh. The sound of thunder coerced him into opening his eyes. He stared up at the treetops that were silhouetted against a dark gray sky, consisting of heavy rainclouds, squinting as water met his eyes.
He tried to sit up and pain raced up and down his body, an unexpected whimper escaping his throat while his eyes clenched shut. He recalled losing consciousness and presumed that was followed by a crash. Suddenly, the thought of moving and further disturbing an injury became daunting. He got to his feet cautiously, then promptly fell back onto his knees upon seeing the extent of the bruises: He looked like a piece of fruit, had it been used as a ball in a game of tennis. And why the hell am I naked?
A theory formulated in Thomas’s head: he had been thrown through the windshield and into the woods. But that didn’t adequately explain the loss of his clothes, and it dissolved fully when he couldn’t even find the damned road. He looked frantically in every direction, but it was woods as far as the trees permitted he see.
The drizzle transitioned into a light showering and Thomas painfully clambered back to his feet, muscles burning in protest. He looked for anything that might point him back toward the road and his searched turned up empty. Nothing but trees, fallen leaves, and the periodic patch of undergrowth. When he was a Boy Scout, he was taught to wait for the rescuers to come to you, but he threw that right out of the window—he wasn’t going to sit buck-naked in the middle of the woods, waiting for someone to notice his absence while lightning cracked like a whip overhead.
He picked a direction and wandered, his hands held over his privates in case someone appeared, his initial feeling of confusion now entwined with anger. He realized, horrified, he’d been drugged the moment it kicked in. He was angry about that, but he understood what had happened: someone tried to drug Lana and he ended up with the drink. She wasn’t tired or bored, she was likely feeling the effects of the drug. He felt a pang of guilt, realizing that her condition had escaped his notice. Did she make it home? Did whoever spike the drink find her? No, she’d been sipping at it for only a little less than two hours, consuming less than an eighth. He drunk the remaining seven-eighths and was knocked out before midnight. She had to have made it home, at the very least, before crashing for the night. He needed to find out for sure.
He couldn’t call her, he realized, because the slip of paper she’d given him was in his jeans, wherever the hell those were now. God, why am I naked? Where’s the wreck? Did whoever spike the drink come looking for him and, in lieu of their intended victim, decided to play a sick joke on him? It was the most likely possibility, he decided. Someone willing to drug a woman would have no qualms stripping and beating an unconscious man.
He thought back to the previous night as he hurried along, aware that he looked ridiculous—buck-naked, hunched over, and cupping himself. The evening was a bit of the blur, likely thanks to the drugging, but he remembered a few faces: the man with thick facial hair that appeared oily and the brown-haired woman with a pixie-cut who drove the black truck. He vaguely recalled the man who nearly ran into him—a droopy face adorned with a mustache—but he hadn’t kept track of him after their encounter. Russell’s bar was filled to the brim with strangers when he’d first shown up, he reminded himself. There were far too many potential culprits and things unaccounted for. He wasn’t going to conjure up the perp with a recollection.
First things first, he thought, I got to get out of the woods. Then, he’d have to suck up the embarrassment if he wanted access to a phone to call the Sheriff’s Office. If they couldn’t find Lana, he could hope to find his clothes at the wreck.
The intensity of the rain seemed to multiply tenfold and the range of his vision worryingly decreased due in part to the water in his eyes. His teeth had begun to clatter. He had almost run a mile when a tall, wooden privacy fence materialized out of the veil. Relief washed over him, followed by dread. He came to a disorderly stop, nearly falling on his ass into the mud. He briefly pondered his plan of approach, then ran, pausing after forty or so feet behind a tree.
Thomas leaned out from his hiding place, blinking away water to see an open yard at the limits of his vision. He swallowed nervously, then made a mad dash (which he suspected was more of a mad waddle) to a diagonal tree trunk. He peeked out, studying the large square of lawn, the closed-in patio, and the shed at the end of a driveway.
After failing to adequately catch his breath, calm his rattling teeth, or dispel the ceaseless shivering, he left his cover, pausing only at the thinning treeline in a moment of hesitation that he quickly overcame. He entered the yard, casting high-strung glances in all directions. As he neared it, he briefly caught his reflection in the patio’s glass, putting into perspective the extent of the bruises. Some were already yellowing. Looking at it made him feel sick, and it also confirmed his suspicion of looking absurd, so he didn’t do it again. He veered right and stepped onto concrete that was being continuously splashed by rain. It washed some of the mud and dead plant fiber that covered his feets and heels. He painfully lifted his sore arms and revealed himself for the purpose of fiddling with the shed’s lock.
The patio door made a noise and Thomas, surprised, spun at the sound, covering himself a moment later. An old man stood inside the shelter, his face cloaked with a seriousness that failed to hide a pinch of bemusement. His hair was a whitening gray that hung long and loose over his wrinkled temples.
“Get inside!” he snapped over the storm.
Thomas obliged. He ran inside like a deer that had been snapped out of its startled stupor, then remained in the enclosed patio, deathly shivering, while the old man rushed into the house to return a few moments later with several towels. With an indiscernible tone, Thomas whispered many ‘thank yous’ that seemed to go unheard as the man left again, returning after some deliberation with winter clothes. He appeared a little winded.
“Thank you,” Thomas hissed again, his jaw trembling. He began to dress, but the bruises and shaking impeded his progress.
The old man averted eyes for a moment, looking at a wall-mounted thermometer, then acknowledged him with a tense nod. “Jesus Christ, do you know how cold it is out there? What the hell are you doing wandering around buck-naked?”
Thomas considered his reply, a difficult feat in his condition. Perhaps if he’d been more clear-headed, he might have left a few things out. However, he wasn’t and he didn’t. In his unadulterated recounting of the previously night, they migrated into the living room. The man turned on the gas fireplace and gave Thomas a heavy wool blanket that he wrapped himself. It was uncomfortably prickly, but it was warm and that more than made up for it. Thomas sat on the hearth, his back to the fire with the wooly buffer, while the man listened attentively from the sofa, his expression becoming grave when the retelling reached the drugging and car crash until finally arriving at the present.
“What did you hear again?” the old man asked once he was finished.
Thomas found it odd that was his first question. Now, he was coherent enough to realize after the fact that he probably could have kept that bit to himself. “‘Sleep deeply or dream of different things’,” he repeated. “It was probably an auditory hallucination conjured up by the drug that I completed in my head.”
The man nodded, uneasy, then changed topics. “Well, then, I feel like I should know the name of the man wearing my boxers.”
Embarrassment struck him but he didn’t recoil. “Thomas,” he answered—he’d already given so much identifying information, why bother being tight-lipped now? “And who should I be thanking?”
“Call me Clive.”
A moment of unpleasant recognition crossed Thomas’s face, not necessarily directed at his rescuer, before he corrected it, and said, “Thank you, Clive.” He was legitimately grateful.
Clive smiled, a sad gleam flickering in his eyes. He pressed down on his knees, rising with a huff of breath. “Not every day you meet someone famous, huh?” His voice was devoid of condescension.
“No, I--” Thomas stopped talking because Clive had left the living and entered the kitchen. He heard water pouring as he approached, taking the itchy blanket with him. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I hope I didn’t offend you.”
Clive punched a few buttons on the coffee maker and it began to hum. “Not at all.” He didn’t sound offended. More entertained than anything else.
Thomas hesitated, feeling the need to excuse himself. “My father read your horror books. When I was younger, I read one once and it scared me really badly,” he lied. “That’s what the… grimace… was about.”
“Well, which one was it?”
“I’m not sure. You always had… long titles.” Thomas had seen the barely touched plate of breakfast and suddenly realized how hungry was.
Clive laughed in a wooden but friendly way, pulling a mug from the cabinet. “Exhaustive is the word you’re looking for. Well, give it shot.”
Away from the fire, the cold began to hound him again. He wanted to go back to it soon, and that food was appealing. “A Shadow in the Night?” he tried, unsure.
Clive nodded understandingly, tearing the top off a paper packet and dumping the light brown contents into the mug. “Hmm. Bingo. I think.”
Clive noticed that Thomas was trying and failing to avoid looking at the plate of breakfast. “Help yourself. I’m not particularly hungry. I only picked at it.”
Steaming water spurted from the nozzle and the interior of the coffee pot thickened with condensation. Clive poured hot water then stirred the drink before handing it to Thomas, who unfortunately had to relinquish a corner of the blanket to take the hot chocolate and the plate, but it was well worth it. They returned to the living room and their separate spots, the fire once again radiating its heat through the blanket and onto his back as he began to inhale the food.
Clive sipped at his lukewarm coffee he’d retrieved from the dining table. His tone became serious as he spoke. “You really think the guy who spiked the drink… you think he did this to you?”
“That’s my leading theory,” Thomas replied, scalding his tongue but drinking despite it. He resumed eating, then finished quicker than he had expected. He sat the plate aside.
“Well, you’re beat to hell regardless,” Clive commented, looking him over again, focusing on a nasty bruise that climbed his neck. “Do you need a ride to the hospital?”
“No,” he said, the sudden strain in his voice caused by a twitching muscle suggesting otherwise. “Maybe,” he corrected reluctantly. He sat down the mug and began to massage his forearm where the offending muscle was located, but stopped when it caused more aggravation than it relieved. “But I need to speak to the woman I mentioned. I need to make sure she’s okay. Her phone number should be at the wreck.”
“I could give you a ride to either place,” Clive offered, sipping again. “Halfway to Lake Salinas isn’t too far. After you’re done there, I can take you into Dayton. I’m okay driving you as long as I get back before Melissa.”
Thomas nodded. If he tended to his well-being and visited the hospital, contacting the proper authorities—the Sheriffs Office, certainly—the bureaucracy of it all would surely slow him down. What he wanted was a quick answer, but maybe that wasn’t what he truly needed. Going back to the wreck was not the proper way to handle the situation, and it was a little thoughtless, but if he found Lana’s phone number, he could contact her quickly and find out as soon as possible.
[Go to the hospital.]
[Return to the car.]
[Go to the hospital.] If whatever he was drugged with is still in his system maybe the hospital can tell what it is. Best to make sure there's no lasting damage anyway.
Alright, alright, alright then! I think I have finally an idea what is going on! This is either a completely ridiculous crack theory, or it is somehow correct. In any way, it is a far shot, but I finally think I have a theory that makes sense about the timeline. This is not a flashback set in the backstory of Clive before his children were born, this is a parrallel universe in which they don't exist. It took me a while to get it, but there are several hints to that:
First of all, this part confirms that Clive is old, probably as old as he was in the original story, back when Rachel was in her twenties and Alex was in his late teens. So far, his children have not been mentioned and it is unlikely that they are just out of town or something like that. So, these parts can't be set before their birth, since it is unlikely that Melissa is at an age where she's even still able to give birth to two children.
Second, Melissa is still alive and since complications with Alex' birth was the direct cause of her death, this implies that she never gave birth to him in the first place in this timeline, therefore staying alive.
Third, Clive did not recognize Rachel back in his dream, even if it probably was her. That woman he saw looked a lot like Melissa, but younger. If Rachel would exist in this timeline, Clive would have likely come to the same conclusion as I did, even if she would be much younger at the time of this part. This implies that she does not exist either.
Since Rachel and Alex are both in the character list and since Rachel likely was the woman from his dream, this means that they probably exist somewhere, just not in the timeline/universe this part is set it. I mean, they were both mentioned in Clive's prologue, so at least that one was set in a universe where both of them exist.
Alternatively, this could not be an alternate timeline or parrallel universe, but something like a hallucination. I have remembered the show Supernatural and there was one episode in the second Season in which Dean Winchester was put into a magical coma by a Djinn and meanwhile dreamt that he was in a world in which he lived a normal life. Perhaps it is similar to Clive, just without a Djinn of course, that he hallucinates about a world in which he and Melissa never had children. The fact that Thomas is there as well and Lana, maybe Wade Pittman as well, could hint at something weird going on in the entire town of Silicon. I remember that you mentioned in the original story that some of the events would have affected large parts of the towns population and maybe something similar is going on here. His dream about Rachel could be her trying to reach him somehow.
So, yeah, those are my two theories. Maybe I am right with at least one of them, maybe I am wrong. I am not sure if I should feel like Sherlock Holmes or some tinfoil-wearing nutjob that believes in chemtrails. Guess time will tell.
Now for the choice:
[Go to the hospital.]
I agree with Agent. If there is anything still in his system, it could be dangerous to waste time. In his current situation, it will be hard for him to help Lana either way if something happened to her. So, let's play it save and hope for the best.
So your theory is that Nohope decided to pull a Multiverse Prime on us? I mean I did refrence Silicon a lot but I'm not sure if it was enough to base a plot around it
.
But being serious I'm not really on board with this whole Silicon Prime theory yet. I could really just be that Clive hasn't mentioned his children yet.
Well, the thing is, in the Carson's submission, it has been mentioned that Melissa died due to complications during Alexander's birth. On top of that, the very same scenario was described in the prologue, where Clive just returned home after Melissa's death, so it has been established in the story that she is dead, at least in some universe/timeline or if this is a hallucination, in the world outside of the hallucination. In the current parts, she seems alive and well, so unless he found another woman by the name of Melissa, that already hints at two timelines/two universes, or something like this hallucination theory I brought up afterwards. And on top of that, the fact that Clive likely saw Rachel without recognizing her in his dream hints at her not existing in the timeline of these events or in this hallucination. I honestly see it as highly unlikely that they just haven't been mentioned yet.
Perhaps. I need a few more parts to be convinced. I does have a solid basis though, which already makes it the most plausible theories so far.
Either we're both crazy or you're theory actually makes sense. XD
[Go to the hospital.]
Your own health > just met girl at the bar.
You mean it is more plausible than that theory that Lana has a split personality which is secretly a serial killer? Surely you must be jesting, because the Evil Lana theory was the most plausible and thought-out theory I ever had!
Well, let's hope we're not crazy then
Though I actually had an idea that might take this even further and there is some additional evidence to it. In the prologues, we saw the PoV's at undeniably the worst moments in their lives. Now at least Clive's worst moment apparently never happened with Melissa still being alive and well and both of them having grown old together. Having reread Thomas' first part, it seems he returned home because his mandatory time in the army was up and not because there has been a murder suicide in his family, meaning that his parents might still be alive, or died from natural causes instead. Or maybe he was lying to Lana to avoid an unpleasant topic, but still, he didn't even think about this murder suicide, which makes me think it never happened in the first place here. And once we get our first glimpse of Tyler aside from the prologue, which I am sure can't be too far away now, then my theory might be proven further, because if I am correct, then whatever happened in his prologue that got Mikey killed might not have happened in this timeline. If Melissa is still alive and if Thomas' father did not commit a murder suicide, then it would be a logical conclusion that Mikey is still alive as well, at least in this weird parrallel universe/hallucination thingy that might go on here. In that case, it seems at least the PoV's are now experiencing the kind of reality they probably long for at the bottom of their heart.
:O I'll get so many feels if Mikey shows up.