The time chasers :: Part 3 ::(16+ for foul language)

The kitchen was directly next to the hallway, which held the stairs and, most importantly, the front door. When the sound wave hit, she could most certainly hear the slow shattering of glass mixed in with the splintering of wood.

Someone was home, but it wasn’t her parents.

They were in the kitchen before she could react. She had been sitting on a stool for the last half hour by her clock, but as soon as she saw them she kicked it back and stood up. She even forgot, for a second at least, that it would go flying into the oven and shatter into a million tiny splinters like a piece of glass.

“Who the ‘ell are you?”

They just stood there, their eyes shifting between the girl and, when she stood up, her stool as it slowly crawled towards the oven.

“Risk?” one of them asked in a low tone. It took her a moment to figure out what they meant, and even more time to realise why. They weren’t worried for themselves. They didn’t want her to get hurt.

The other one shook his head, and he took a step forwards. “We’re not here to hurt you,” he stated clearly in an overly slow voice. “But you should know that this is for your own good.”

Two things were immediately clear to Stephanie. One: They were obviously lying. Each had a long brown coat which covered black, tight fitting clothes. Dark turtle necks wound their way around the men’s throats, and she wondered how they could breath. A loose fitting pyjama top had been almost enough to choke her.

Although they were mainly hidden in their black coats, it was obvious that they both had enough muscle to break any one of her bones without a second thought. Just in case they were in a tight spot, however, there was a tool belt fastened securely around one of the men’s waists, clinching into his hips.

The man who stepped forwards revealed this tool belt when he whisked his hand to his waist, grasping one of the tools. She couldn’t get a good look at what he was holding, but the others were perfectly visible.

The nastiest was a knife that looked like it had a hundred different long teeth, all intertwining down the blade. The intricate pattern was almost like a plait with lots of loose ends, only made of stainless steel and ready to kill. The handle itself was made of wood, but it had periodic spikes of metal jutting out of it in all directions. Stephanie would rather drop her hand into a vat of highly corrosive acid then even touch the handle of the knife, let alone be stabbed by the blade.

They looked like they had stepped out of the matrix.

The second thing she knew was that, although she seemed to be moving at superfast speed – or maybe everything else was moving slower – they were moving even faster.

It didn’t even look like the man had taken a step, but there he was, a pace ahead of where he was before. And his clothes didn’t seem to be dragging him down the slightest bit.

“Come with us now, don’t want to make a fuss; do we?” He spoke faster now, matching the pace at which she spoke. It occurred to her then that if he was faster then her, he would speak faster too.

She shook her head and took a step back, “No WAY! What in Christ’s name are you doing?” She had been to preoccupied by the man’s weapons before to notice her own breathing, but as she choked the words out she noticed that her mouth was incredible dry. She could feel the air as it moved through her throat, burning at the back of her mouth.

“You really do want to come over here, Stephanie.” He was getting impatient already. Before she knew it, there was a fist pointing straight at her, clenched in that fist was a gun.

Staring up the barrel, she swallowed. Any sudden movements and they might shoot. But what was she supposed to do? Just let them come in there and take her? Kidnapping with a twist; it all happened when the clock stopped. Or rather, was moving so slowly that a milk bottle took half an hour to fall.

How does this happen? She thought. How can any of this be even remotely true? Stuff like this just doesn’t exist; the secret service, time stopping… And why, oh why, is this happening to me?

“Please,” she whispered. “Don’t shoot!” Syd dropped his hand just the slightest inch, and she knew that she had him. They might have fancy weapons and sharp knives, but they still had a heart. Or at least, she was hoping they did.

“Stephanie, come over here now. It’s for your own good!” She tried not to show her smile but the tips of her mouth were starting to break. He said the words faster. Not too fast so that she couldn’t understand, just enough so that she could tell he was getting impatient.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a splash as the last few drops of milk came out of the carton, and the carton fell to the floor. Milk was not all over the kitchen floorboards, and she hated herself for making such a mess. Mum would have to clean it all up, and such a waste of milk, too. Although it may have had a use, if all went according to the plan that was now forming in her head.

“I just want to know what’s going on…” her voice was just loud enough for them to hear, as she saw Syd drop the gun that little bit lower.

There was a breakfast bar between her and the two men, which meant that she would have a few seconds of cover before they came charging around the island and into the cooking half of the kitchen. That meant that she had a few seconds to do something worthwhile.

Something good about the milk carton; it reminded her about the stool.

She ducked as soon as she saw his concentration drop that tiny bit, whipping her head around so fast that she almost broke her neck. Her body was slower to turn though, because it was dragging the clothes along with it. She figured that they must have a maximum speed limit or something, and the assailants were breaking the law.

The whole ordeal had taken just about the amount of time it took for the wooden stool to smash. The splintering pieces were erupting now, throwing themselves in all directions. Without even hesitating she pushed off from her crouched position, jumping in the air at the same time.

It was almost like flying, in a way. The sluggish speed of her clothes pulled her back and stopped her from crashing into the oven, but other then that she was free.

Flying in slow motion.

The sound wave was first, and then the splinters. With half a meter to go, she grabbed at the biggest one she could find – a remnant of the leg – and pit her hands out to stop herself. Just as she was about to catch onto the bench, she stopped moving altogether. She didn’t fall, she didn’t fly, but she was suspended.

Turning around she saw Mac holding her up. Immediately both of her hands were aimed at his face. The chair leg caught his eye but before she could do anything worse he dropped her and took the weapon out of her hands. He then twisted them around to her back and secured them tightly with something. She wasn’t even able to resist. He was just too fast.

As she was falling she twisted herself around and placed her feet on the ground, trying to undo whatever handcuffs he had restrained her with.

Satisfied that she was temporarily out of any fight, Mac looked around for Syd, and found him half way across the kitchen. He was followed by a trail of milk, which he had slipped on when he ran around to catch Stephanie.

Mac kicked him slightly, “Come on,” he said as he kicked him again. “Five minutes, remember?” He checked his watch, just to be sure that they weren’t running out of time. Syd got up just in time to see an armless girl running at them both, and then turning around to do a kick. She was doing it in slow motion, though, and Mac turned around and caught her foot and twisted it around. She fell to the floor like a feather ruffled by the wind.

“Twenty seconds”, Mac said, only now alerted to how much time they wasted. “Out, now!” Mac headed for the door, looking back to see Syd picking up the girl and chasing after him.

The car doors slammed with just two seconds to spare, and Syd, now in the back seat, hooked the handcuffs that Mac had fastened to the headrest on the front passenger seat. With all doors on kiddie lock, he reached under the seat and grabbed another box. This one only had one vial in it, and he removed it just as the car stereo started to play.

The girl became a blur to him at that moment, and he was stuck with the painful task of locating her neck.

Stephanie was struggling against the handcuffs – it turned out that he had just about anything he needed on that belt – when the two men froze. And doubts she had about the whole idea of slowing down time were stamped out like setting fire to a piece of paper. Only ashes of excuses and hope remained; hope that this was a dream, excuses on why her imagination was going on the fritz.

But no matter how sure she was that something – too weird to even comprehend – was going on, she couldn’t ignore the fact that she could see Syd’s hand coming towards her at such a speed that she could have had a small nap before it got there. Even though he was going slow, she knew above anything else that there was no chance – even if she took off the headrest (and it wasn’t a headrest that you could remove) and undid the handcuffs – that she would be able to do it without someone calling for backup. Because this definitely didn’t seem like a spur of the moment kidnapping.

To his surprise, Stephanie suddenly appeared in nearly full clarity. He didn’t need much time to do that math; at her dosage, she had to stay still for half an hour for him to be able to see her.

He couldn’t believe it, but he had no doubts. She had given in. Because he knew that both he and Mac would be given another injection when they arrived, he let her sleep. And she did. Not a sound from her for the rest of the trip.

Ten minutes for them, five hours for her. She didn’t stir at all.

Until the drug wore off.

[b]Oh, and before I forget, Happy New Year! It's 13 minutes left of the old year for me, so I'm making the most of it by finishing off the 3rd chapter. Have a brilliant twenty-ten!