He stands for a long time. He tells himself he's not hesitating, just trying to remember where this is.
But he knows, really. Everything might be different, but the destination is always the same. He doesn't get to go forward. Only 'round and around in circles.
He doesn't want to watch it again. He doesn't want to see faces he has no business seeing yet.
He also doesn't want to stand here until Hell freezes over. So, eventually, he starts to walk.
Like every time, it's night - even if the job that got them here took place at midday, a few minutes before. Like every time, he remembers as he moves: what's coming, what he has to say, who's going to be waiting. He hasn't forgotten the most recent trip, because of the bar, but it becomes sharper as he gets closer, a scalpel blade slicing into soft flesh that had started to heal over. He swallows it down. Alex is at the bar. She's sleeping. She'll wake up when he gets back. He isn't saying goodbye to her all over again. And Shaz is there, safe. The lads resisted temptation. It was for the best, and they'll be happy.
Knowing it doesn't stop the fear that gathers his gut in a tight fist, and twists. And that's new. Normally he's calm on this walk, just a man doing what has to be done. But he's not normally doing it with his own past seared into his memory.
'Really don't need a refresher course in doing my job,' he mutters, to distract himself, but he knows the ghost won't give a damn. He looks through the gloom, trying to see because the voices are getting louder, but all he learns is that this must be far, far in the future. The road surface is made of something completely new to him, and the streetlights aren't on traditional poles. They look like they're hovering, though that can't be right. And the traffic noise in the distance sounds different. Quiet humming, rather than the roar of engines. Electric, he realises. It sounds like electric. Bloody future poofs.
And then, he stops. The end of the road is suddenly there, lit up by the gold-and-white light shining out from The Railway Arms. Even that looks different, though maybe it's always like that and he just never noticed. It's weird, viewing it from an outside perspective. Just like it's weird watching himself stand there, offering a gloved hand to a bloke who looks like he's about to fall down. There's a woman as well, hanging on the bloke's other arm - maybe it's for support, maybe more. It doesn't matter.
And, Nelson. Of course. He's standing by the door, holding it open for his imminent arrivals. He looks the same as ever, grinning away, dreadlocks on full display. But Gene doesn't want to get any closer.
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But he knows, really. Everything might be different, but the destination is always the same. He doesn't get to go forward. Only 'round and around in circles.
He doesn't want to watch it again. He doesn't want to see faces he has no business seeing yet.
He also doesn't want to stand here until Hell freezes over. So, eventually, he starts to walk.
Like every time, it's night - even if the job that got them here took place at midday, a few minutes before. Like every time, he remembers as he moves: what's coming, what he has to say, who's going to be waiting. He hasn't forgotten the most recent trip, because of the bar, but it becomes sharper as he gets closer, a scalpel blade slicing into soft flesh that had started to heal over. He swallows it down. Alex is at the bar. She's sleeping. She'll wake up when he gets back. He isn't saying goodbye to her all over again. And Shaz is there, safe. The lads resisted temptation. It was for the best, and they'll be happy.
Knowing it doesn't stop the fear that gathers his gut in a tight fist, and twists. And that's new. Normally he's calm on this walk, just a man doing what has to be done. But he's not normally doing it with his own past seared into his memory.
'Really don't need a refresher course in doing my job,' he mutters, to distract himself, but he knows the ghost won't give a damn. He looks through the gloom, trying to see because the voices are getting louder, but all he learns is that this must be far, far in the future. The road surface is made of something completely new to him, and the streetlights aren't on traditional poles. They look like they're hovering, though that can't be right. And the traffic noise in the distance sounds different. Quiet humming, rather than the roar of engines. Electric, he realises. It sounds like electric. Bloody future poofs.
And then, he stops. The end of the road is suddenly there, lit up by the gold-and-white light shining out from The Railway Arms. Even that looks different, though maybe it's always like that and he just never noticed. It's weird, viewing it from an outside perspective. Just like it's weird watching himself stand there, offering a gloved hand to a bloke who looks like he's about to fall down. There's a woman as well, hanging on the bloke's other arm - maybe it's for support, maybe more. It doesn't matter.
And, Nelson. Of course. He's standing by the door, holding it open for his imminent arrivals. He looks the same as ever, grinning away, dreadlocks on full display. But Gene doesn't want to get any closer.
'Far enough,' he says, firmly.
The ghost will just have to lump it.