Psycher Chronicles

Chapter 69

Loose Threads

(Hasty)

“It has been three weeks and you are telling me that no one can find anything on the girl, Misha, and her entourage?” Hasty exclaimed, as even she had a hard time remembering the name of the girl that won her sweepstakes.

Though to be fair, this was not really her fault as all references to the girl, her compatriots, or even the contest winner were slowly eroding and disappearing. Almost as if the name itself was ice left to melt in the baking hot summer sands.

Unfortunately, it was not summer, there was no beach, and as far as the world was becoming concerned there was no Misha. At least not a Misha who was in Pittsburgh, who arrived with her friends and then fought her way to freedom.

Immediately after the event, data from the event, its subsequent riot and subsequent violence were all captured on tape. Millions of hours of video footage were collected, stored and processed.

The only problem was, that the cameras for where Misha and her friends had left were apparently faulty on the night of the event. Worst of all, the server that did manage to capture some data was then corrupted and had severe damage. The backup facility, that served as an alternate storage site for data was also destroyed.

Then there was the blurring effect of videos of the event. This started small, with but minor blemishes to the faces of the people that were on stage with Hasty at the time of the incident. Then slowly the names and words also got corrupted, until finally the videos were no longer playable in any format.

It was a legal nightmare as Hasty and her team were close to being charged with tampering of data, but enough data survived that it was clear to see who was most to blame for the wild concert.

Doctors were claiming that it was a bacteria in the water supply that caused the mass hallucination, claiming it was something similar to the Salem witch trials, where foreign bacteria got to the brain and caused mild to severe hallucinations. At least that is the best explanation that has been detailed thus far.

“I regret to inform you that no, we have not found any sign of the three girls in question. Furthermore, it seems that all records associated with just writing down their names via electronic correspondence have caused issues.” Ms. Delaney, Hasty’s right hand woman and the only reason why Hasty still could hold onto the idea that she was still sane after everything that has happened.

“How so?” Hasty asked, suddenly interested in this new note of understanding.

“Every email I write with the names has been corrupted. Even names from my alternate or newly created accounts get corrupted, altered, or ultimately deleted sometimes before I even hit send.” Ms. Delaney stated, there was a moment where it looked like she wanted to say more, but then collected herself.

“What is it?” Hasty asked.

Hearing the question, Ms. Delaney seemed to struggle with herself, before ultimately answering.

“I’d almost say that it was a government conspiracy to cover things up, but the only problem is, that the government isn’t this good. I mean we are talking about killing the dissemination of intelligence at the time of transmission, something that is theoretically impossible. Then there are the odd occurrences.”

“Occurrences?” Hasty pressed.

“Yes, as you know, I kept personal notes in my journal, which has so far managed to remain the only record of these three people and their names. I’ve tried to copy down versions of the names onto hand written letters to myself and others, but the letters never got processed.” Ms. Delaney continued.

Hearing that, Ms. Delaney looked a little bit better, but still seemed to be holding back even more information.

“There is more?” Hasty pressed.

With that Ms. Delaney just nodded as she bit her lip. “There have been odd eruptions too, as if something is trying to attack my personal journal.”

“Events?”

“Yes, they started off as minor at first, but the more time passes, the more I can’t help but see random events happening.”

“Like what?”

“Like a quick contained fire erupting from when I put my phone on my journal. I managed to put out the fire in time, with the flames only minorly damaging the leather coating, but the phone was destroyed.”

“I remember that,” Hasty added.

“Then there were other random encounters that I can’t help but feel were somehow orchestrated. Once I had the journal in my hands when leaving the library where I created the new email accounts, as I left an automated delivery courier came far too close for regulations and splashed me and my journal. Again, the pages were once again saved, but that was just another incident that felt somehow forced.” Ms. Delaney said.

While the splashing of a courier drone was not unheard of, its timing couldn’t help but seem suspicious, particularly as the package supposedly went to the library in question. Also, the phone exploding was also new, but again Hasty had been so lost in her own issues that she had failed to notice the troubles that Ms. Delaney was going through.

“Is that it?” Hasty finally asked.

“Is that it? Is that it? Yes, that is it so far, but you and I both know that this isn’t done.” Ms. Delaney stated.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t you know that trouble always comes in threes?” Ms. Delaney asked.

***

(Bruce Jacobs)

Tired.

If Bruce had to put how he was currently feeling into one word, it would have to be that he was tired. For the first time in a long time, he constantly found himself being awoken by random sounds throughout the house.

Most notably, he had the dream that people were trying to steal his prized BMW, the new eight class with leather heated seats, power steering, and best of all none of that hybrid junk most people try to drive around in. The car was sleek, fast, and knew how to make some noise to let others know he was coming through.

Why did Bruce feel that his car would be stolen? Well simply put, it was the best car in the whole neighborhood. It was so good in fact that he had to hide it in his sealed garage, both to protect the vehicle from the elements, and to prevent people from thinking they could take it.

This was why, every time Bruce woke up, he could swear that he heard the engine of his vehicle revving wildly.

Yet, every time he made his way to the garage, he found the vehicle right where it was supposed to be. Sitting there patiently, just waiting for him to drive off to wherever he was needed today.

The first time he checked, he just opened the door, gave a quick cursory check around the garage, saw that the door was still sealed and that the activation code was set for the alarm system. With everything the way it was supposed to be, Bruce took in a deep calming breath and went back to bed.

Only to awaken a few hours later, when he once again heard the revving of his beloved vehicle.

This time he made it down the hall and to the kitchen, before the noise stopped.

Quickly grabbing a baseball bat from behind the couch, Bruce made his way through to the garage, only to find that everything was still set up as before.

This time Bruce didn’t just check from the doorway. This time he found himself walking around the garage, only to find nothing.

There was an odd smell of smoke and carbon in the air, which caused Bruce to look under the car for anyone.

Dizzy.

That’s when Bruce’s old age hit him, once he lowered his head too fast. But he had to be quick, as he was trying to check under the car to catch anyone that might be hiding under the car. But nothing.

Bruce stood up, feeling slightly dizzy from the sudden movements.

“You need to get out and walk around more, old man.” Bruce said to himself, as he held himself still, trying to regain his balance.

Then on reflex he went over to test the alarm by opening the side door to the outside.

BEEP, BEEP, Chirp.

Yep, immediately, the alarm that had been set went off, giving Bruce thirty seconds needed to go over and reengage the alarm system.

Staggering, Bruce made his way over and drunkenly put in the code. His fingers feeling slightly fatter than normal as he typed.

Then with the alarm disengaged properly, he let out a sigh of relief, gave one last look at the car.

For a moment, he thought about going over to touch the hood of the car to see if he could feel some heat, but then just shook his head. It had been a long night and he probably heard the neighbor’s car revving and that caused him to freak out in his dream.

Still though, Bruce did make it a point to get more exercise. Even with his werewolf body, apparently there were some problems that good genetics couldn’t fix.

For a moment Bruce almost felt nauseous, causing him to leave the garage faster, and run to a bathroom. After his thirty minute stomach scare was over, Bruce made his way back to bed, content that everything was only in his mind.

Revvving.

Yet, every time Bruce felt his mind fully relax enough to go to sleep, he was awoken by the noisy neighbors and their damn muscle car. A car that could not compare to his own.

Knowing that his neighbors were likely jealous of his very fast and well protected car, Bruce tried to go to sleep. That is, until his alarm clock finally went off.

Yet, despite everything, Bruce felt sluggish.

He still felt nauseous for whatever reason.

“Might be getting a cold,” Bruce said to himself, before realizing that if he worked out more, he might not get sick as often. This only doubled his personal goal of going to work out more.

Still he was tired, his mind still reeling from the lack of sleep he got due to his annoying neighbors. Mentally, he noted that he would talk to the neighbors, once he got back from work.

Unfortunately, work waited for no one, which was why Bruce, who forced his entire staff to come into the office, knew he had to lead by example and do just that. Despite wanting to call out sick, Bruce did what any good manager would do, he sucked it up, got ready and then entered his car to leave.

Dizzy.

Once again, Bruce felt dizzy for whatever reason, but decided to just deal with it.

Shaking his head, he closed his eyes and fought through the dizzy spell.

Then slowly, he felt oddly tired. Too tired to drive. Mentally he knew he should call out sick, but he couldn’t. He also knew that he should just go back to his bed to get more sleep, but these were leather seats. Comfortable leather seats, and his bed was so far away, that he couldn’t relax properly.

Hot.

Bruce found himself feeling hot, which was when he realized he should at least turn on his car to get some AC going.

Ding.

The minute he turned on his vehicle, the low gas light came on. That was odd, but then again it was a new car and Bruce hadn’t had time to figure out how much larger the top half of the tank was than the bottom half of the tank.

With the cold air being recycled from his garage to his face, he felt momentarily relaxed. This was when Bruce realized he would reward himself by taking a quick power nap within his vehicle. That was when he decided to call into the office, to let his secretary know that he would be a little late getting in.

Bring.

“Hello, JD Banking, this is Cathy speaking, how may I help you?” Cathy Bruce’s receptionist asked.

Hearing her warm energetic voice, Bruce could only smile, knowing that she was already there to take care of anything that might come up.

“Hi Cathy, this is Bruce. I am just calling to let you know that I going to be running a little late today.” Bruce said.

“Thank you, sir and we will hold down the fort until you arrive.” Cathy said, her warm overly affectionate tone letting Bruce relax slightly.

“Thank you,” Bruce said, as he reached up and clumsily hit the end call button.

Click.

The phone call ended, with a time reading 47 Seconds.

With that, Bruce closed his eyes and tried to fight through the dizziness that was threatening to rule his mind.

Thrum.

A gentle thrum and movement of gears beneath him let him go to sleep in what was now an oddly soothing sound.

His last thought, before his mind completely went blank was of his receptionist seeming to continue the conversation after their initial call ended.

“Thank you,” Bruce’s recorded voice came back to him, sounding oddly distorted. Did he actually sound like that in real life?

Click.

There was the obvious sound of the call ending. Then a pause before Cathy could be heard visibly relaxing.

“Phew, no, thank you jerk, for not coming to the office so we can get work done.” Cathy said, her normally cheerful voice filled with a deep sense of venom.

At first Bruce was slightly angry at the words, but then realized it had to be part of a dream. A lucid dream that he could now interact with, or was somehow aware he was sleeping.

Then his mind finally relaxed, letting him get past even the initial stage of sleep, so he could take his quick power nap.

***

(Ursala Jarnic AKA Ms. Clayton)

“This is News 7, your number one leader in local news.” The Announcer began, before continuing, “we regret to inform you that a local leader and influential pillar of the community was found dead today. The person was found dead by what police are calling an apparent suicide by carbon monoxide attempt. More at eleven.”

Click.

Hearing the news Operative Clayton could only stare at the television wondering first how the set came on. But then, wondered what local leader had died in a small town like Jackson West Virginia.

Then a quick internet search later and her question was answered.

Seeing the articles and obituaries, Ms. Clayton only had a one word response, “how?”