Twisted Fate: Flashback, #2

By Simon Rose

A tattered photograph. A lock of hair. Keepsakes of his mother have triggered strange dreams for Max, dreams of a dank prison cell and an oddly familiar teenaged girl. But it’s the disturbing vision of a train accident that convinces Max to investigate his mother’s death.

During his investigation, Max discovers a connection with Julia, a classmate with dark secrets of her own. Her mother also died mysteriously and was linked to Project Mindstorm. 

When Max learns that the project has been revived, he and Julia embark on a seemingly impossible mission across multiple, shifting timelines. On the run and pursued at every turn by the powerful and ruthless Kane, Max and Julia engage in a desperate race against time to alter the fate of Max’s mother and transform their own destinies.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tyche Books
• Release date: Mar 24, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386740032

Simon Rose

Simon Rose is the author of The Alchemist's Portrait, The Sorcerer's Letterbox, The Clone Conspiracy, The Emerald Curse, The Heretic's Tomb, The Doomsday Mask, The Time Camera, The Sphere of Septimus, Flashback, Future Imperfect, Twisted Fate, Parallel Destiny, the Shadowzone series, and the Stone of the Seer series. He is also the author of The Children's Writer's Guide, The Time Traveler's Guide, The Working Writer's Guide, The Social Media Writer's Guide, a contributor to The Complete Guide to Writing Science Fiction and has written many non-fiction books with Crabtree Publishing, Beech Street Books, Weigl Publishers, and Capstone.Simon offers a number of services for writers, including editing, coaching, mentoring, consulting, manuscript evaluation, and writing workshops. He has provided substantive and copy editing services for many other writers over the years. This has been for novels, short stories, fiction, nonfiction, biographies, inspirational books, and many other genres. He also offers copywriting services for business, including website and social media content. Full details can be found on his website at simon-rose.com. He is the founder of Children’s Authors and Illustrators on Facebook, served as the Writer-in Residence with the Canadian Authors Association, is a member of the Calgary Association of Freelance Editors, and served as the Assistant Regional Advisor for SCBWI Western Canada.Simon offers a wide variety of presentations, workshops, and author in residence programs for schools, along with virtual author visits. He is an instructor for adults with the University of Calgary and offers a variety of workshops and writing courses for both children and adults.You may also follow him on Twitter or Instagram, connect on Facebook, or visit his channel on YouTube.

Book preview

Twisted Fate

Published by Tyche Books Ltd.

www.TycheBooks.com

Copyright © 2017 Simon Rose

First Tyche Books Ltd Edition 2017

Print ISBN: 978-1-928025-65-8

Ebook ISBN: 978-1-928025-66-5

Cover Art by Artist Wiktoria Goc

Cover Layout by Lucia Starkey

Interior Layout by Ryah Deines

Editorial by M. L. D. Curelas

Author photograph: Simon Rose

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage & retrieval system, without written permission from the copyright holder, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third party websites or their content.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations and events portrayed in this story are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Any resemblance to persons living or dead would be really cool, but is purely coincidental.

This book was funded in part by a grant from the Alberta Media Fund.

For Cole

2003 to 2016

Chapter One

Time Pieces

MAX COULD FEEL his toes dragging on the rough concrete floor as he moved along the darkened corridor. Some of the overhead lights were broken and flickering. His arms were being supported across the shoulders of two other people. He felt distinctly drowsy but still noticed that the men on either side of him were wearing what appeared to be drab coloured military uniforms. They were speaking a language that Max couldn’t understand. Through half-closed eyes he saw a number of signs on the walls written in a strange alphabet. One of the men released Max as they reached a door. The man took a collection of keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. As soon as it was open, the man led Max inside the dimly lit room and shoved him onto a filthy mattress that lay on the floor against the wall beneath a high, barred window. The man left, the door clanging shut behind him. As the key turned in the lock, Max struggled to his feet and staggered over to the battered and stained sink in the corner of the room. When he looked up and gazed into the cracked mirror he saw a girl’s face staring back at him.

MAX SAT UP in bed, struggling to catch his breath. He looked around in panic before he realized that he was in his own room. It had just been a dream, although Max had no idea what it had been about. Once he’d recovered his composure he remembered that he’d been thinking about a whole range of issues before he’d fallen asleep. He’d been talking to his dad and grandmother the previous evening about his mother. Max’s thoughts had also drifted to the events of a few months earlier at the start of summer vacation. He’d accepted that his strange experience in the role of David Dexter was probably always going to remain somewhere deep in his subconscious. Although the timeline had been changed as a result of Max’s actions in the past, he still recalled everything that had happened. The psychic Deanna Hastings hadn’t been able to explain it and had said that Max might simply forget everything as time progressed or he might not. Max hadn’t been in contact with Deanna since they’d parted ways after saving the adult David from Kane at the Dexter family home but Deanna still often crossed Max’s mind.

Max checked his phone. It was almost noon on Sunday and his stomach rumbled. It was mid-September and school was back in session but his body still hadn’t adjusted to the end of summer vacation. He still tended to sleep later on the weekend. Max yawned as he stood up and quickly got dressed. He then grabbed his phone from the bedside table and went downstairs. He walked by the fireplace where his mother’s framed photographs were displayed on the shelf. The pictures showed a beautiful young woman with light brown shoulder-length hair. They’d all been taken when she was in her mid-twenties, around the time Max had been born. His mother’s hazel eyes stared back at him but Max felt very little connection to her. He’d never had the chance to know her, although on his birthday the day before, his dad had produced a wooden box containing a number of his mother’s belongings. His dad had hoped that they might help Max to develop more of a link to his mother.

Max glanced into the kitchen where some of the contents of the box were still spread out across the table. He went over to the cabinet above the sink and took out a glass. He then poured himself some juice from the carton in the fridge. There was an empty coffee cup on the kitchen counter. It looked as if his dad had left early to pick up the final supplies from the hardware store for the basement renovation project.

Max returned the juice carton to the fridge and sat down at the kitchen table. Most of the items were from his mother’s childhood, before his parents had first met when they were only fifteen years old. Much of the material was from Czechoslovakia where his mother had been born and raised before leaving the Central European country as a teenager. There were a number of baby photographs, along with pictures of his mother as a kid in various locations with relatives, grandparents, and family pets, as well as a few school photographs. The elementary school report and other documents bearing the name Marina Kolar were all written in Czech. It was a language that Max recognized a little when he saw it although he couldn’t read or fully understand what the words and phrases meant.

A couple of postcards, one depicting a mountain resort and the other a lake, featured decorative postage stamps and had Marina’s handwriting and signature on the reverse side. Max’s dad had explained that the award certificate was for a piano competition. Marina had been a very accomplished pianist from an early age and had received a number of awards while growing up. There was even a newspaper clipping about her exemplary performance in a local competition when she’d been only nine years old.

Inside the box, a faded red ribbon was tied around a lock of Marina’s hair that had been cut on her first birthday. It lay next to a small rag doll that had been made by Max’s great-grandfather back in Czechoslovakia. There were two bracelets, one of which was broken, along with a set of red rosary beads. A delicate gold necklace had an oval locket, which contained a small photograph of Max when he was a baby. The necklace lay on top of a short poem written by his mother when she was a teenager. She’d also apparently kept a journal but his dad had explained that this had unfortunately been lost years earlier.

Max picked up the photograph of his mother taken when she was aged around fifteen. He instantly felt a shiver run down his spine as he realized that this was the face of the girl that he’d seen in the mirror in his dream. The signs that Max had imagined he’d seen on the walls hadn’t been written in Czech yet he now recalled why the lettering had seemed oddly familiar. He’d seen the same alphabet in some of the documents he’d examined the previous summer at the office of John Carrington, the private detective that he’d encountered at the outset of his investigation into the mystery surrounding David Dexter and his family. The various papers Max had seen in Carrington’s office had mostly been related to Dr. Aleksander Kovac and his scientific work in the former Yugoslavia. There didn’t seem to be any obvious connection to Max’s mother, but he was well aware of the strange power of the subconscious mind after what had happened to him in the summer. He figured that everything that he’d recently learned about his mother was no doubt still swirling around in his head before he’d fallen asleep the previous evening.

Chapter Two

The Box of Memories

ON HIS BIRTHDAY the day before, Max had been sitting at the kitchen table with his dad and grandmother.

I wanted to wait until you were ready, said his dad, as he showed Max the wooden box. Well, I guess you might have been ready a couple of years ago. Then again, I wasn’t even sure if you’d be interested.

Why would you think that? asked Max.

Well, it’s just old stuff that belonged to your mom, Max. I know it’s been hard, for all of us, but you never knew her. We’ve never really talked about her death either. It was even hard for me to bring this box out but your grandma and I promised that we’d show you this when you turned fifteen.

His dad reached into the box and took out some papers and photographs.

These are all written in Czech, I’m afraid, he said, as he placed the items on the table. I never learned much of the language. Your mom taught me a few words and basic phrases but to be honest, she didn’t talk too much about her childhood years. I can tell you what I know though.

Max picked up one of the photographs. It showed his mother as a toddler with an older couple in a garden.

That’s her with her grandparents, Max’s grandma explained. Marina’s parents died when she was only a baby. As you know, your mom was from what used to be called Czechoslovakia. It was in what people used to call the Eastern Bloc. Most of the people who lived there weren’t allowed to travel to other countries.

Yeah, we learned about that at school when we studied the Cold War, said Max.

Your mom left there when she was a teenager, his dad added. We were both fifteen when we met at school and her English was quite good even then. I didn’t know she was ill when we first met.

What do you mean? asked Max.

His dad glanced over at Max’s grandmother before continuing.

Your mom suffered from depression, Max. At least that’s what the doctors said. It was very difficult for both of us.

I know, Dad.

You know what?

I heard you talking to Grandma about it on the phone once, a few years ago. I figured it was why you were always so worried about me and sent me to see Dr. Hammond.

Your dad was so concerned about you, said his grandmother. We didn’t know what to do about those nightmares you started having just after you turned five. We were so relieved when they stopped a couple of years later.

Was my mom very ill? asked Max.

Most of the time she was perfectly fine, his dad replied. But sometimes it was quite serious. Once she went missing for almost a week. No one knew where she’d gone. The police were involved and she was eventually found in a remote rural area well outside the city. She was wandering around in the middle of nowhere and at first she scarcely knew who she was, but she gradually recovered.

What had happened to her? Max asked.

We never found out the full story, replied his dad. She had no memory at all of the previous few days. The police were very sympathetic and helpful, but with your mom’s medical history, it was all just put down to what the doctors always called ‘an episode’. That was just before we were married.

Did anything like that ever happen again? said Max.

Not too often, his dad replied. Or if it did, your mom kept things to herself. We were very happy and she was overjoyed when you were born. But then not long after that she became very depressed and there didn’t seem to be anything that I could do to help her. Even so, I never thought that she’d take her own life.

He sighed and looked away. Max’s grandmother reached over and gently squeezed his dad’s hand.

Maybe that’s enough for now, she said. Perhaps you can take me home? You and Max can always talk about this some other time.

Sure, said his dad. That’s probably a good idea.

Okay, Max, said his grandmother, standing up from the table. I guess I’ll probably see you tomorrow.

Sure. Bye, Grandma.

She leaned in and gave Max a peck on the cheek then headed over to the front door with his dad.

I won’t be too long, Max, said his dad, as he stood in the open doorway.

No problem, Max replied. I’m just going to bed anyway.

After he heard his dad’s truck pull away, Max stood up. He left everything on the kitchen table with the intention of studying the items in more detail the next day before heading upstairs to sleep.

MAX’S REMINISCING ABOUT the previous evening was interrupted when his stomach growled again. He took a sip of his juice as he studied the objects in the box and those that were lying on the table. They were like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. He could try to fit them together but a true picture of his mother remained maddeningly elusive. Max picked up a photograph of his parents with himself as a baby in a stroller. The photograph had been taken during a family trip to the zoo. In the picture, Max’s dad had thick black hair, in stark contrast to its current silvery grey colour. Max gently ran his finger over the image of his mother’s young face and everything went black.

PEOPLE MILLED AROUND in the late afternoon sunshine as they waited on a train station platform. A young man and woman were standing beside a stroller. Their baby had just begun crying.

Is he okay? said the woman.

Yeah, just a little hungry, I think, the man replied. Let’s hope he can wait until we get home.

The woman with the shoulder-length light brown hair leaned into the stroller and kissed her baby on the cheek.

Okay, she said. Just drive him up and down the platform a little. I’ll see if the train’s nearly here.

The woman walked away. The man then turned the stroller and began pushing it along the platform. The train’s brakes screeched and there were several screams before everything went black again. Max opened his eyes and was back in the kitchen, still holding the old photograph. He dropped the picture onto the table then almost fell off his chair, startled, as his phone vibrated on the table. It was a text from Jeff.

Chapter Three

Circle of Friends

MAX SIMPLY STARED at the photograph of his parents with the stroller at the zoo. The vision, or whatever he’d just experienced, had been highly unnerving to say the least. First, he’d had the strange dream and now he seemed to have experienced a vision of what had happened when his mother had died. Max and his dad had never really talked about it in detail since his mom had apparently taken her own life. Max supposed that the images in his dream could be related to lingering memories of his adventure as David Dexter but this thing with the trip to the zoo was decidedly different. He’d obviously been there as a baby, even if he couldn’t remember it since he’d been so young, yet he seemed to be witnessing the tragic event at the train station. Could his recent psychic and paranormal experiences have somehow affected his memory? Perhaps those experiences had given him the ability to recall things so far back in his life? Or was there another, more disturbing reason? Max wondered again about a recurrence of the issues that had once sent him to Dr. Hammond years earlier.

His phone vibrated again to remind him about Jeff’s text. Max opened the message.

Sleep in? What time u coming over?

Max had completely forgotten that he was supposed to go over to Jeff’s house for a marathon gaming day with him and Jason. Max quickly typed in a reply.

Yeah be there soon.

He stood up from the table as Jeff sent him another text.

ok brb. out getting snacks.

Max tried to put the weird experience with the photograph behind him and went upstairs to have a shower. Once he was dressed, he sent his dad a quick text to tell him where he was going. Max had the beginnings of a headache as he stepped out of the condo and locked the front door behind him.

IT WAS ONLY a couple of blocks’ walk to Jeff’s house. For some reason, Max recalled when he’d run for his life along these same streets after Kane attacked him at the condo in the early summer. Kane had followed Max and Deanna to David Dexter’s house and Max was highly relieved that he’d never heard any more about Kane since then. Deanna had assured him that Kane probably wouldn’t remember anything, including any details about Max, after the titanic mental battle she’d had with Kane. Max hadn’t heard anything else about the incident and had assumed that David had reported Kane as an intruder. The police would then probably have picked him up and taken him into custody. The timelines had all altered, of course, but Kane’s ability to seemingly exist outside of regular time, at least in terms of his memory, as Deanna and Max were also able to do, was still a worry.

Max’s headache had eased slightly by the time he arrived at Jeff’s house. On the neighbouring driveway stood the huge old blue car belonging to Jeff’s neighbour, Mrs. Flynn. She was unpacking some bags of groceries from the trunk and Max assumed she’d just got back from the store. He went up the path to Jeff’s front door and immediately discovered that it was locked. It looked as if Jeff and Jason were still out. Max went around the side of the house to the back door. He then crouched down and lifted one of the larger rounded stones in the flowerbed beside the concrete step and picked up the spare house key. Jeff had mislaid his keys so often over the years when he was younger that his mother decided to always have a key left somewhere handy. Jeff wasn’t as absentminded these days but the spare key was still kept there under the stone in the flowerbed, just in case.

Max opened the door and stepped inside the house. The kitchen looked as untidy as ever. There were dishes in the sink but at least they’d been washed. Jeff’s mom had a job at one of the local hospitals in the Records department and worked shifts some of the time. She always seemed to be at work and had a lot of other social activities as well so she was rarely home. She’d also been busy in recent weeks with Jeff’s grandmother since his grandfather had passed away at the beginning of the summer. Max had accompanied Jeff and his grandmother to the cemetery when his journey into the life of David Dexter had first begun. Jeff’s dad spent most of the summer on the golf course but even at other times of the year Max hardly saw him at all.

There were numerous paper items on the kitchen counter and table. Some were flyers