Alternative

Chapt 21- Finality

"I can't believe it. Five weeks of waiting and the day has finally arrived."

Huh?

Sam's head was pounding. She was hearing voices, but they sounded distant. Yet (it confused her) they felt so close by. The next few words of their conversation were pushed into her subconscious as a perturbing fact revealed itself to Sam.

She had no eyes to see with, no mouth to speak with, no hands to reach out, no body to maneuver. Somehow, she had a strange feeling she had no ears to listen with either…

"Dude," a voice warm enough to comfort her and familiar enough to bring a deaf laugh to her lips said, "don't jinx it."

If she could gasp, she would have.

"I doubt one's just gonna spring up out of nowhere and attack us at the movies," her voice resounded. She wanted to look around, but that wasn't an option either. Was this . . . death?

"And yet that's what always seems to happen . . ."

"So, when are we going to the Dumpty Humpty concert?" It was Danny's voice this time.

Whoa, serious déjà vu, Sam commented inwardly. Why did this all sound familiar? An inexpressible feeling of longing surged through her. She felt as though she had been waiting for this for ages. But she had no idea what 'this' was.

Light entered her vision as the voices continued to converse. She remembered vaguely a deep pain in her chest. It was gone now. Was her life flashing before her — well, not eyes, per se? She still wasn't sure she had those.

"Your parents must be so bored now that they don't have to babysit you." Her lips had moved as the voice played out in her mind. She was suddenly aware of her body. It was as simple as turning a page; her confusion had ebbed. She could hardly remember having felt it at all. Thoughts of death were slipping away, slowly falling back into the shadows as if she were waking from a weird dream.

"It's a nice day."

Her head was spinning now. Wind was racing past her. Tucker was speaking but she couldn't hear his words. Everything was becoming a blur.

She felt nauseous.

"Sorry, I just haven't seen many days like this," Danny apologized. "Usually our weekends are—"

"AAAGH!!!"

She had opened her eyes to sunlight and it had retaliated. Sam receded in pain, but before she could crouch to the floor, a pair of hands wrapped around hers to keep her up.

"Sam, you okay?"

"Did a bug fly into your eye again?"

She was reluctant to remove her hands from her eyes, but his voice felt so close now. Sam opened her eyes blinkingly and looked up at the pair watching her.

"Tucker?"

Tucker turned to Danny, disconcerted. "Her mom cooked breakfast again, didn't she?" he questioned in a voice that failed to pass as a whisper.

"I-I'm fine," she said, steadying herself as she straightened up. The hands that held her did not let go. She looked to her right.

"Danny."

"Uh . . ."

He blinked and glanced over at Tucker with a look of worry.

"Sam, come on! Can't you find another day to spazz out?" Tucker pleaded. "I promise, if you can hold off until tomorrow, I'll stay at the asylum with you the whole day—"

"Not funny," Danny reprimanded. But when he turned back to Sam he muttered, "If it comes to that though…"

Something about this didn't seem right to Sam. She blinked several times, more for the sake of confirming that the two figures before her were concrete than for means of adjusting to the intense sunlight. She couldn't place it, but a part of her felt a desperate longing for her two friends. She wondered why it felt so weird to be in their presence.

"S-Sorry, the sun got to me. What were you saying?" She had no idea whom she was asking, but Tucker was the first to speak.

"Goths," he said. "Sure you don't need an umbrella?"

"Oh shut up," Sam responded. Danny laughed.

"Right, so if anyone asks, I'm only with you two to escort you to the loony ward."

"Please, you'll be there before we are," Sam shot back. The awkwardness was ebbing away.

"Are you using that thing as an accessory?" Tucker asked, pointing to her neck. Sam looked down. There, resting just below her collarbone was a gold and ridged medallion. "CW" was carved into it.

"What?" she wondered aloud, taking it in her hands.

"Weird. I don't remember you leaving the house with that," Danny remarked.

"I would hope you weren't looking there..."

"Tucker!"

Sam was hardly paying attention. She traced her finger around the letters and tried to remember when she had put it on that morning. Nothing was coming to her. Why did she feel so out of place today? She squeezed her eyes shut and focused hard.

Like a hit with an anvil chopped up fragments of unorderly flashbacks pounded her. She was trying with difficulty to grasp them all.

Danny was . . . missing? Tucker? He was lying on the ground. Clockwork was talking to her.

"One more word Tucker and I'll be flying you home from the inside as soon as the movie starts."

"Don't deny it, man."

They were crossing the street when Danny punched Tucker. The latter stumbled into someone else.

A surprised "Agh" escaped him as he clumsily fell to the ground.

"My bad, dude," Tucker said, offering a hand.

Sam looked up from her jumbled reverie and paused, stricken, on the sidewalk. The boy, their age, was dusting his clothes off. He nodded a curt thanks to Tucker for the assistance and took off speedily, head bowed. Sam's mouth was agape. Her eyes followed the brown hair as he departed.

"Damien?"

She didn't know how she knew him; she had never seen him before. And yet, she felt as though she had.

She didn't know why she was so shocked by the fact that he was alive and walking as if everything was all right. Why shouldn't it be?

Burgundy. The building beside her was burgundy. Sam's heart raced as she turned her head to confirm it. She was right. She hadn't looked at it once and yet somehow she knew its color. She felt nervous standing next to it.

"Guys, let's move. I feel like that building is really unstable."

They knew not to question her anymore and just followed suit. The streets were growing noisier now as they approached the block where the Nasty Burger stood. With a day off from school, their classmates were eager to give the old restaurant business. Another wave of déjà vu swept through her as they turned the block to maneuver around the crowd.

She had been surprised that Tucker had managed to persuade Damien to come so late. She had gotten into a fight with Paulina. Damien had run to the bathroom. Median had appeared.

Damien was Median, and Damien was her friend. Sam turned around, eyes wide as she looked for the retreating back of the isolated teenager. He was gone, but Clockwork's words rang loudly in her mind. Damien was the friend she lost to save Danny and Tucker.

Save from what?

This wasn't making any sense! No, it was. She was remembering now. Her hand closed tightly around the medallion as she walked, absentmindedly following Tucker and Danny.

"Hey, do we have time to grab a quick bite?" Tucker asked hopefully. Danny looked back at Sam and then at his watch when she didn't reply.

Clockwork had frozen time just before a flash of red light consumed them. She recalled that quite vividly. Danny was on the floor in his ghost form. They had been given a medallion, but Danny had his taken from him.

"This is weird," came Danny's voice as he prodded his watch. Sam looked up.

Her medallion remained around her neck when a familiar blade pierced her heart. It failed to act as a sacrifice to deflect the deadly blow. She had died. She could have sworn it.

"What's up?" Tucker asked.

"My watch. Its hands aren't moving."

He examined it closer and then narrowed his eyes. "Wait a minute. Didn't I leave it at your place last Thursday when we went to the pool?"

Tucker furrowed his brow. He looked back down.

"This doesn't even look like it," Danny pressed on, tapping the device again. The hands remained immobile. He turned back to Sam with worry in his eyes. It was the look that read 'Ghost?'

She stared back at him, dumbfounded.

He died.

She looked around at Tucker. They both did!

Clockwork had sent her to fulfill a task. Could it be that she actually — Sam's eyes widened in amazement as detail after detail of the altered future came flooding back to her— succeeded?!

She couldn't believe it. She was sure she had failed. The ghost had even warned her that the outcome might not turn out to be in her favor. She had been fatally speared through the chest. But she had heard screaming. She had definitely heard it, and there was the sound of glass being shattered. Perhaps . . . Vlad came to his senses?

And then, as it had all morning, another dose of insight struck her. She knew now why she had to go back on that day. It was the most dangerous day to return — the day Plasmius was able to follow her and impede her efforts. But she was never meant to do more than lead him there. She wasn't supposed to come out of it alive. That wasn't the purpose. Clockwork sent her back on the day of Plasmius' foreseen return to allow Vlad proof of what he would become. She learned firsthand that her simple pleads would not sway him.

She looked back down at the medallion. Was it Clockwork's way of saying 'Thank you'?

"Piece of garbage," Danny snarled, trying to jab the watch this way and that, completely abandoning the thought of checking the phone in his pocket for the time.

"Guys," Sam said, a little dazedly, "let's grab that bite. I'm starving, and we've got plenty of time."

The boys' gazes lingered on her for a moment before turning to one another in surprise. Finally, Danny laughed and shook his head.

"We've had some pretty odd days over the past few months with all the ghosts and other comparable freaks, but this takes it home."

Tucker laughed in agreement. "I promise, we'll seek therapy tomorrow. Right now, I'm hungry." He paused and glanced first at the street and then at his best friend. "Hey, I'll race ya."

"You're on."

And on the count to three from a reluctant Sam, the boys were off, speeding toward the Nasty Burger as Sam followed behind at her own pace. They'd save her a table.

She watched their backs as they grew smaller, feeling a strange heat rising in her cheeks. Her fingertips just barely brushed her lips as one more memory stood out in her mind. She turned a deep shade of red.

She smiled to herself and looked up at the sky. The sun was practically cooking her alive, but she couldn't help but beam at the thought of walking through those glass doors, turning toward the less packed corner of the room, and seeing the faces of the friends who waited for her there.

Just as it should be.

Clockwork observed the trio as they conversed twenty-four stories below him. In his aged hand was a cracked and broken thermos. Its resident had taken permanent leave in a world that existed now beyond time, his only source of protection from its fate resting now in the old Timekeeper's grasp.

He grinned slightly while he watched as a miniscule Danny tapped at his wrist. Just beside him, Sam was clutching a golden medallion, lost in her own world. The ghoul turned his eyes on Tucker, apologetic that he had no souvenir for him other than an intact sense of sanity.

It was tough being a puppet master, the specter reflected as he watched the confusion rotate between the group until the boys came to a conclusion and (Clockwork was not surprised) took off in a race toward the Nasty Burger, leaving Sam in their wake.

He wanted to apologize for everything he put them through, all of the secrets and riddles and tragedies and — the desire faded at once as he let out a rare yawn. It was worth it in the end, he decided, as he turned his back on the young teenagers and held his staff up high.

He was long overdue for a well-deserved rest. And with a twitch from the corners of his mouth, the Timekeeper was gone in a whirl of purple smoke.