6200 ch. 1

One

I sat up and looked around. I was disoriented from my recurring nightmare, trapped in the past, wondering where I was. Then I remembered. I was in the Andes Hills, hiding from all things Strange. Although, my current residence was strange in its way. One of many hide outs, my possessions littered the cave floor. The cave itself was large and round. The only light came from the washed-out color of the clouds outside. It was near dawn, which only added to the space’s achromous nature. Trinkets from across the millenniums was what littered the ground. There was a compass from the Titanic, and a sun dial from Caesar's royal gardens. Also, there was a primitive computer from the Statue of Tranquility, a feeling prism, several scattered orjuniums, a person pacifier, and a miniature cow that was chewing it’s cud in the corner.

I grimaced. My ugly T.A.R.D.I.S. (Transmitting Access Riptic Dimensional Instantaneous Sender) stood by the wall. An insane (and Dr. Who worshiping) inventor had created the aberration in his only moment of genius. The deranged man had to make it look just like the show. It even had the words “public call box” written on it, but I stole some paint and fixed that problem straight away. I watched the show once, out of curiosity, but that particular Dr. was very annoying. He was either the one-hundred-sixth or one-hundred-eighth. I had not been listening enough to know which.

Anyway, the clumsy thing was broken again and I had to fix it.

After 100 hours (minutes) of continuous labor, the dratted machine was running. I started scooping piles of junk into the machine and gunned it’s engine.

I held on tight as I zoomed through the first dimension listening to the hypnotic zum in the heart of the T.A.R.D.I.S. For the first time in a while, I appraised my “look” in the mirror that I had snapped into existence seconds before. The left side of my face was acceptably pretty, with a masculine chin, smallish nose and large tawny eyes. They had reminded my mother of a hawk, which earned me the name Accipiter. Because there were so many people when I was born, and my mother wanted me to have an original name, I had many, and they were all hard to pronounce. I only said them when someone asked. Tawny eyes hadn’t been seen in humans until the fifty-seventh century. My eyes traversed the right side of my face. It was scarred beyond recognition. The reddish-purple hair that hung limply off my scalp was thin, and lacked the sheen of health. It’s color had not been seen until the twenty-fifth century. The ends were ragged, caused by my haphazard shearing. My gaze moved to my outfit. The familiar costume was worn and travel-stained. An unflattering shirt the color of old vanilla pudding covered only one arm. (The other sleeve was sacrificed to the noble cause of bandages after a recent mission) It was stained with colors like petrified lung phlegm, beetle squish, and technicolor yawn. Ugly was an understatement, but it had blended in with almost any surrounding, including public relations offices, so it had been invaluable to me when new. Excessively faded Levi's covered my lower half. They also blended in with any terrain. Because sometimes I had to pretend to be a super-hero-like figure to gain respect, trust, or fear, I also had a black trench coat. It was sleek, perfect for portraying an element of mystery. I owed much to the Matrix movies. It was also waterproof, so that was nice. I realized the shirt looked weird, so I ripped off the other sleeve and used it to tie my hair in a ponytail. I let my bangs hang down to cover my scars. It didn’t help. I still looked like a hobo.

Damn, that meant I had to go shopping.

“Oh well,” I sighed out loud.

The zum of the Tardis stopped. In its place was the terrible cacophony of fear and destruction. The sound made me weirdly happy. It meant shopping was out of the question. I raided the cupboard and brought out the biggest gun I had. It was a beaut. Hawk model, so named for the sound it made. If the war had spread here, I would need it. Slowly I opened the door of my ship and peered out.

Just as I thought, the war had spread. What was amazing was that it had spread through time as well. It was the year 2012 and according to the ancient Aztecs, the year the world ended.

Someone screamed, and my mind reconfigured into battle mode. Time to think later, now it was time to fight.

Gun fit to arm. Start shooting. TSEEEEEW TSEEEEW “Civilians into houses,” they stared at me. “NOW,” Strange One shoot fire hydrant, water spray. Careful footing.

Civilians start running houses. Small girl slow. Parents try drag. Strange One blue-fire rod fired. Evil bastards. Cross myself for them. Casualties happen in war. Keep shooting. Last enemy... done. Brain go normal.

It had taken a while, but all the Strange Ones were deceased and miraculously, I wasn’t. I looked over toward the little girl and her parents. Their bodies lay sprawled on the ground, still smoking. The girl was very young. Eleven or twelve was all. Her family surrounded her. That would be the way to die. Around the ones you loved and who loved you too. An overwhelming sense of longing washed through me. That was the fate that had escaped me. I shed no tears. I had cried myself out years ago. Turning to go, I thought about how-

WHAT WAS THAT?!?!?!

Did the girl just move or was it some kind of bizarre hallucination? But no! There it was again! Breathing!

I pushed her dead mother off her. She died in duty, I thought, protecting her child. I knew there was no hope for her or the man, the smell of death was already taking hold. The child, however, was still clinging to life with the strength and ferocity of youth. She was apparently to stubborn to die, and I had a moment of insight as I looked into her face. In that moment I knew she would be renowned for her greatness in the coming centuries, for the wonders she would accomplish.

I also saw that even though she was still breathing, she was fading fast. There was no hope for her in this century. The pathetic excuse for medical care here just was not going to cover it. I lifted her carefully and carried her to my stupid blue box. One of these days I was going to steal some more paint and it would become an awesome shade of chartreuse, or maybe a deep burgundy or-

“OH MY HOLEY ... CHEESE ... BI...SCUITS COVERD IN SHI...TAKI SAUCE” I yelled, trying to avoid swearing and blasphemy. It earned me a couple of stares from the people coming out of the houses, but I didn’t care.

She...had ...the...markings!!! All across her hand! Spiders, jagged across melted skin.

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My hand! It was ripped apart! Every time I moved it the cuts split. It hurt!!! Someone came over to me and wrapped my arm. I slipped back under.

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I remember doing the same thing, coming to, then sleeping, except I did not have any bandages.

Her hand was an amazing pattern, very . . . swirly. It is hard to appreciate the scars when they are your own.

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I awoke to see my mom sitting by my bed. She looked asleep. I checked her eyelids to be sure. They were closed, but there was something weird about her-

OH MY GOSH!!!

Her face was not my mom’s, but the face of a much younger woman, with weird features; eyes too big, nose too small, hair too... purple! And her scars! Her scars was exactly like mine! Horrible. Although, I had to admit, They fit her. I noticed they weren’t just like mine, no gashes. Also, I thought randomly, she had no taste in clothing.

“What is your name?” I jumped. She still had her eyes closed.

“A-Alice Smith” I stuttered. I realized I didn’t know where I was.

“Truly? I had a pet monkafet named Alice once.” I realized, for all I knew, she could be insane.

“What’s a ... what’s your name?” I asked. She blinked.

Taking a deep breath, she said, “Ballaquacianovatrinia Uche Accipiter Elouweiseniie Bryr Protogoria Theonoaphanous Kinnaxanthippe Ildigaria Daphagyro Branwen Gennadios Salsbury Ohana-Wyfist Calogenefradely.” she looked at my face and said, “Call me Benny.”

I could feel the surprise in my eyes. “Well. Benny. Where am I?”

“What do you remember?” She asked, ignoring my question.

I went all pale. “They’re all dead, aren’t they.” I didn’t believe my own voice as I said the words.

She looked me straight in the eye. “Yes,” I was glad she didn’t try to beat around the bush.

“Oh.” I blinked.

“I will go make dinner.” She left me to grieve.

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Alice sat in silence. Staring into the abyss. It was terrible to watch and even worse to remember: coming to grips with the fact that your family was gone and not coming back. How long before she came out of shock and the tears came?

I began to make dinner. Freeze dried spaghetti, carrots, and meat sauce. Realizing the girl would need food to, I added another package. I was running out. I would definitely need to go shopping soon.

“What is it that you do?” She asked. I blinked.

“I mean, what’s your job,” she looked at me, “how do you get money?”

“I am the resistance. I save humanity on a daily basis. Every one on this planet owes me their life hundreds of times over. I steal what I need from those who can afford it.”

She was quiet then, and did not talk for several days. I never once saw her shed a single tear for her family.

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