Static Bride

Elijah struck a match, the faint hiss cutting through the damp silence of the autumn morning. He lit his cigarette, watching the smoke twist upward, dissolving into the cool, rain-soaked air. The parking lot stretched before him, its wet asphalt shimmering under the gray sky. His dark jacket, heavier than usual, clung to his athletic frame, saturated from the downpour that had chased them from the auditorium. He exhaled, the smoke curling like a ghost, and turned as the auditorium doors squeaked open behind him.

"What was all that about?" Bruce emerged, his voice rough, muffled by a burger he'd swiped from the cafeteria. Grease glistened on his fingers, a drop of mustard splattering onto the asphalt and staining his tactical boots.

Ashley followed, her boots scuffing the pavement as she slumped against the wall beside Eli. "A girl dead set on ruining her life," she said, her tone sharp with frustration, though her eyes flickered with something softer—pity, maybe.

Eli chuckled, a low, weary sound, then sighed. "Not just any girl. A conduit who paraded herself around like a proud peacock," He took another drag, the ember flaring briefly, casting a faint glow across his stern features.

Bruce paused mid-bite, brow furrowing as mustard dripped again. "Wait, there are two now?"

"Yup," Eli nodded, his gaze drifting across the lot. "And I'd bet she was in that Pink Miata yesterday."

"So where's Rachel Harper, then?" Ashley asked, crossing her arms.

"Long gone," Eli said flatly, flicking his cigarette to the ground. It hissed as it hit a puddle. "This girl martyred herself to buy her time."

"That makes no sense," Ashley muttered, shaking her head.

Bruce crumpled his burger wrapper, tossing it into a trash can with a wet thud. "Unless she can see the future," he said, half-joking, wiping his hands on his pants.

Eli's eyes sharpened, locking onto Bruce. "Precisely. She knew we were conducting an Ether Aptitude Test."

"Or maybe one of the faculty spilled the beans to the students," Ashley countered, her voice edged with doubt.

"Doubt it," Eli replied, his tone clipped. He crushed the cigarette butt under his boot, grinding it into the asphalt.

"Where is she?"

"She's being held in the principal's office."

"So what's the move?" Bruce asked, shifting his weight, ready for action.

"I'm going to talk to her," Eli said, his jaw tightening. "See if I can figure out her angle. You two—go bug Rachel's home. We need to know what she's hiding."

As Bruce and Ashley nodded, turning toward the lot, a low hum pulsed through the air—faint, insistent, like static on a dead channel. Eli glanced up at the school sign, its neon letters buzzing faintly, casting erratic pink and blue flickers across the wet pavement. The rain had stopped, but its weight lingered, pressing down on him as he headed inside, the unknown trailing him like a shadow.

Moments later, after Ashley and Bruce had left, Elijah walked toward the principal's office. He took a deep breath, turned the doorknob, and opened the door. The office smelled of stale coffee and old paper, and the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead like a swarm of insects.

His eyes narrowed as he watched Emily's hand's desk beat on the principal's desk without a care in the world. The rhythm thudded against the desk, steady as a heartbeat. Eli's brow furrowed. He knew it—somewhere deep, like a tune caught in the back of his skull—but the memory wouldn't surface. It itched at him, familiar yet distant, and he clenched his jaw against the unease creeping up his spine.

Emily's fingers stilled, the rhythm cutting off mid-beat. She leaned back in the chair, head tilted, studying him with eyes that seemed to glint too brightly under the fluorescent light.

"About time, what took you so long... never mind, you reek of smoke and midlife crisis."

Elijah rubbed his face, holding back a smirk. "Cute, and you reek of the typical goth teenager with a poor living situation hiding secrets."

Emily chuckled. "Burn, but I guess the shoe fits."

The principal chair creaked as she rocked back and forth, her grin etched on her face. "So... are you here to play detective or turn me over to the P.I.A.?"

Eli scoffed and rolled his eyes as he fixated his eyes at the mulberry aura radiating off Emily. "So you know what you are?"

"Not necessarily, but I know I am not normal, and I assume you are not either."

Elijah nodded. "You are right; we are called conduits. Of course, the only reason you're not in a jail cell is that you can't be in the general public anymore."

"Ahhh, so that's what it's called...lame name, but whatever. So when do I get a jacket?"

"Pardon?"

Emily pointed at Elijah's drenched jacket. "The Ether tests... that's all just a way for you guys to find people like us and recruit them, right? So when do I get my jacket?"

"When you tell me what you are and where Rachel Harper is," Elijah replied flatly as he walked towards the principal's desk.

Emily nodded. "Thought you would say that."

"You can see the future, can you?"

Emily shook her head. "Nope, but I see stuff in my dreams."

"Like?"

"Rude! You not going to spill the beans on your special power?"

"I will tell you that when you tell me where Rachel is."

Emily curled her lips and looked down. "Why don't we take a trip to my house first?"

"She there?"

Emily shook her head. "No, but in order to tell you why I won't be telling you where Rachel is, I gotta show you a couple of things first."

Elijah raised an eyebrow. "I am not interested in seeing your abusive parents and shitty etch and sketch drawings."

Emily slammed her hands on the table and then looked Elijah in the eyes. "You do want to see my shitty etch and sketch drawings; you just don't know it yet."

Elijah's face twitched as her words slammed into his chest like a train.

"You know that some weird shit is going on in this town, but you ain't gotta fucking clue. You're in the shallow end; I've seen the deep," Emily said straight-faced, her eyes unwavering.

"Fine, but if you are bullshitting me, I am going to tell the P.I.A. director to put you on permanent toilet cleaning duty for the rest of your miserable life. Do you understand me?"

"Lead the way, detective. Hope you can swim."

Elijah escorted Emily to his patrol car and turned on the engine. Rain drizzled on the car's roof and windows as he drove from Corwood High. He focused on the road, unwilling to engage in banter with Emily as she navigated him to the trailer park where her home resided. His tactical boots muddied as he exited the vehicle and gazed at Emily's run-down mobile home.

The front door creaked as Elijah followed Emily into her home. The air hung heavy with the sour stench of stale beer, the TV flickering static across the cluttered room. He gazed at the liquor bottles and prescription medicine scattered around the living room like candy. Emily petted a black cat sleeping on a scratched-up sofa before passing the kitchen filled with dirty dishes in the sink.

"Mom, you home?" Emily yelled as they approached the hallway.

Elijah gazed at Ms. Voss as a bedroom door creaked open. Her eyes are glassy, and she reeked of alcohol and marijuana. "Morning, mam," Eli greeted.

Ms Voss looked up at Eli and then back at Emily as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. "You're home early; who is this?"

"This is Agent Carter. He is with the P.I.A., and it looks like I am being recruited. Brought him home to look at my art and stuff."

Ms. Voss rubbed her hair. "Oh well, keep it down. I am trying to sleep," she flatly replied as she closed the door.

Emily glanced up at Elijah and then looked down at the floor as she sighed.

"For what it's worth, I had a shitty mom, too," Elijah said as he followed Emily to her bedroom.

"Don't need your pity. I deal with stuff much worse than that," Emily flatly said as she opened her bedroom door.

Elijah's eyes widened as his boots creaked on the floor as he entered. His gaze fixated on the mechanical eye drawings plastered on the wall and cassette tapes scattered under his shoes. He looked at the old television with a camcorder connected to it and then at the dingy clothes thrown on her bed. Emily walked over to her art desk and bent down, reaching for the gloom pill she dropped yesterday. She picked it up and then watched Elijah explore her room.

"Are you really going to take that?" Eli asked, turning his head to see the Gloom pill in her hand.

"It's necessary. You going to judge me?"

Elijah shook his head. "Nah, do you."

Emily popped the pill in her mouth and swallowed.

"So you going to explain all this?" Elijah asked as he fiddled with the camcorder connected to the television.

Emily stretched and then reached under her bed and pulled out a notebook. "In a minute, got to let the Gloom kick in."

"Why?"

"I see myself die in my dreams—well, other versions of myself. However, one doesn't, and she tells me stuff," Emily explained as she handed Elijah the notebook.

Eli opened it, his eyes narrowed as he saw lyrics to songs that rattled some memories from yesterday. "Wait, what?"

"Ah, you remember, then this should be easier for her to explain," Emily said as her eyes flickered mulberry.

Elijah's eyes widened as he closed the notebook and gazed at Emily's mulberry aura, which faded into a static aura. "What the hell?" he muttered as he noticed Emily's eyes remained with a bright mulberry glow.

She stared at him stoically, then stood up from her bed and glanced around the room. "I didn't want to do this, but it was necessary," Her voice crackled like static, and her eyes flared like mulberries.

Elijah put a hand on his desert eagle. "What the fuck are you?"

"You already killed me in one timeline. Can you please calm your tits and listen?" Emily said as she turned her head towards him, her eyes glowing unworldly.

Elijah blinked slowly and then slowly pulled his hands away from his gun. "Killed you? What are you going on about?"

"Not important at the moment. You want to know what's going on, and I am here to try to explain that to you," Emily explained as she leaned against the wall. "And before you ask, yes, I am Emily, the Emily who doesn't die in her dreams."

"Or maybe you are schizophrenic and have multiple personality disorder."

Emily chuckled. Her laugh cracked and sounded like static from a TV. "You deal with paranormal phenomena as your job. Is it that hard to believe that we live in a multiverse when you've seen the stuff you've seen?"

Elijah took a deep breath and gazed down at the ground, his mind spun like a hamster on a wheel.

"Okay, fair enough. So you are saying another Eli killed you in another universe, but I fail to see what this has to do with Rachel Harper?" Eli asked.

"Everything, you see, Emily...your Emily knew about the Ether Aptitude test because I told her. Emily pulled the fire alarm to get her out of it and for me to have this conversation with you."

Elijah's eyes narrowed, and his eyebrows furrowed. "Okay, what is she?"

"Someone who needs your help after Emily bites the dust in three days. Ring a bell?"

Elijah's eyes widened. "Dezerea?"

"Bingo, and no, you can do nothing to stop Emily from dying. It will happen no matter what you or anyone else does."

"So you're saying Emily is destined to die no matter what?"

"Yes, she always dies in every timeline at a fixed point except for me. I was the exception to the rule. Rachel's been screwing with time—rewound it twice without even realizing."

Elijah's eyes dilated as his mouth opened slightly, but no words came out as he struggled to process what Emily told him.

"The universe fucking gave temporal powers to a damn teenager! Does that mean Rachel took the test and then rewound time?"

"Yup, subconsciously, though. If she ever figures out she can fuck with time, shit will get ugly fast."

Emily's eyes started to flicker back to her original green color. "Don't have much time, Gloom tolerance."

"So what do you want me to do, babysit a teenage time god?"

Emily shrugged. "Kind of, yeah. She will need someone to keep her level-headed when Emily dies, or she will repeat her actions all over again."

"I think the P.I.A-"

"The P.I.A. can't stop her; nobody can stop her if she goes down the same road. Rewinding time is just the tip of the iceberg of what she can do, Elijah. I don't need you to question it; I need you to trust me."

Elijah rubbed his forehead and lit a cigarette. "Fuck my life, where is she?"

"Told her to go home, but knowing Rachel, she probably ain't there."

"Alright, I will play for now, but no promises, this shit is above my pay grade."

"I know. Reality can turn into fiction if you don't pay attention," Emily replied as she glanced at the flickering TV, its static twisting like a warning. Elijah frowned, seeing nothing but noise.