Timebound

By Ben Patterson

After the apocalypse, Daniel Kane and Garret Benning are sent back to 2018, to today’s New York City.

Here, gangsters kill each other for fast cars, pretty girls, and status. Kane and Benning fit right in. Tasked with finding the trigger that ended our world, these soldiers of fortune pose as private detectives. On their side, tools and weapons not yet invented, and Francisca Silva, a young waitress with a sharp mind. Against them, a strange world completely alien to their experiences.

Can these time-traveling mercenaries make it in an unfamiliar land without getting killed? Everybody has
an agenda. No one can be trusted. Time is not on their side and these jokers are just getting started.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Nov 22, 2018
• ISBN: 9780359236688

Book preview

Timebound

Timebound

Ben Patterson / Author

Timebound Copyright 2013 Ben Patterson

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Printed in the United States of America.

ISBN: 978-0-359-23668-8

The Call

Run swift to hazard’s hold,

Race, my watchmen and champions bold;

In this war between doves and snakes,

Cunning and courage the winner makes.

Time is stubborn, days are short.

New game, new rules, a contact sport.

For God, for Country, for flag, for fame,

The fight is yours, no other to blame.

Though to all good things there comes an end.

Fight on! Come evil’s day, do not bend.

So contend with honor, lest someone observe,

In the hour of need, you’ve lost your nerve,

There is time to falter, stumble, and fall,

And time, oh watchman, to rise to the call.

So rise.

From J.B.Tenstead’s book,

The Searchers. ©2063

One

The first time Daniel Kane encountered Bobby Gentry, he drove a knife through the man’s hand to pin him to a wall.

The last time Kane saw him, ended with Dan’s girlfriend in cuffs, hauled off to jail for slicing open Gentry’s throat from ear to ear. This isn’t to say Gentry didn’t deserve either event. The punk had an abundance of stupid rattling around between his ears. To many folk, it was a wonder he made it to adulthood. This troubled relationship between the two men started over Diniz Claudio, an old boozer passed out cold in a dead-end alley.

***

Exasperated, Francisca Silva considered her cell phone with disgust, then hung up on the police. With gritted teeth, she turned to her father. They aren’t coming. I’m going over there.

Guálter slammed his cleaver into the cut board next to his chicken. And what are you to doing? he said in broken English. You are only girl. Bad mans is for to hurting you. I’m say no! You are stay here!

Francisca scowled at him, yanked her apron off, and headed out the back door into the alley. The gang had gathered across the street at the mouth of the other.

***

Diniz Claudio awoke to a stream of warm water on his face. He coughed and gagged and shook himself, then sat up.

Standing over him, Bobby Gentry zipped up. The others with him laughed as if old Diniz deserved what he got. Diniz himself couldn’t disagree. He was a miserable soul in a miserable place leading a miserable life.

What was he to Gentry? Did the boy see himself in the old man? Or perhaps he saw his father in the old drunk. While he lived, old Robert Sr. bequeathed heartache, bruises, and broken bones to his family, nothing more.

Now, his legacy, a son who led a gang of hoodlums, terrorized an otherwise peaceful neighborhood. Did that make him feel important? His boys, twelve or so young thugs, took pleasure in kicking over trash cans, breaking street lamps, spraying graffiti on everything within reach, and causing general mayhem wherever they went.

Every now and again, to counter that, some soft-spoken visionary with a badge stepped in to make a difference in the boys’ lives. Bobby Gentry had other ideas.

Wakey wakey, old man! Bobby cooed sarcastically.

Diniz looked up into the handsome face of the early twenty-ish man-child. His innocent boyish smile didn’t hide the malevolence behind it.

Dinny, old boy, you’re sleeping in my street again. You know what I told you about doing that.

I was drunk, boss. Sometimes old Diniz doesn’t know where he is. I didn’t mean nothing.

Bobby's cheeks rose to a toothy grin. You come into a man’s home and lay down wherever?

Bobby Gentry! Francisca shouted as she crossed the street. You leave that man alone!

He glanced at her then back at his boys. The guy lies down in my toilet that I can’t use it without waking him. And you make out like I’m the bad guy here.

The boys snickered, and Bobby turned back to Diniz.

Though some tried to block her, Francisca pushed her way into the throng.

No, man, Bobby said softly. There’s a price to pay. You know that. If I let it go, it’ll set a bad precedent. You don’t want me to set a bad precedent, do you? What would people think?

Francisca struggled to get closer. The young men holding her didn’t let that happen.

No, boss, Diniz said, I’ll be careful next time. I won’t get so drunk I don’t know where I am. Please.

Bobby pulled out his large, German switch-blade and triggered it. Diniz recognized the blade he traded a year ago for a half bottle of whiskey, and only now remembered who he had traded it to. The dull colored, dark gray knife was suddenly there. It was long and, when it touched Diniz’s cheek, razor-sharp.

Gentry! Francisca shouted. Stop!

What will it be today, Dinny, old boy: Pincushion Joe or Pick-a-finger?

Pincushion Joe, a young voice said, and each boy pulled out his own knife; some worth owning, others little more than sharpened scraps of metal with grips made of wrapped cloth.

Yeah, a few others agreed.

Diniz Claudio raised his hands and backed away from the blade toward the alley’s exit, toward the street. He winced when a couple of sharp points pricked his back. Pincushion Joe, they started to chant. Sharp points pierced his shirt and cut his skin.

Oh, I don’t know, Bobby said. I want a souvenir.

A what?

A finger, he said to Diniz. Your finger.

What!? said Francisca. Are you crazy?

Bobby looked at her. You know? To make into a key chain. My uncle has a rabbit’s foot. A human finger would be far more awesome. Don’t you agree?

No, boss, Diniz pleaded. I won’t do it again, honest.

Yeah, but… Bobby said. I kinda like your getting in my way. Gives me something to do on these lazy Saturdays. Then, as if he had a new idea, Bobby’s brows raised. I know, I’ll take your finger, but only down to the first knuckle. You pick which one. After that, my boys’ll play pincushion with you. Everybody wins, right?

You’re sick! Francisca spat.

Bobby shot her an amused grin. Wait your turn, girlfriend. I’ll get to you soon enough.

With nowhere to turn, Diniz Claudio fell to his knees panic-stricken, and started to sob.

A couple of the boys grabbed Diniz and yanked him to his feet.

Gentry took hold of his trembling hand, nearly breaking fingers to unclench the old man’s fist. Don’t fight it, Dinny. It’ll only make it worse. You want a clean cut, don’t you? If you struggle, it’ll be all raggedy.

NO! he and Francisca shouted simultaneously.

The blade started to cut into his little finger at the first knuckle. A dirty hand clamped over his mouth, cutting short the old man’s scream. He bit. The hand jerked away.

No, boss. Please, I…

Bobby, knock it off! Francisca ordered.

Gentry looked at her and his brows leveled. I said, wait your turn. I will get to you.

You were a punk in high school, Bobby, and you haven’t changed a bit.

He smiled. First things first, girlfriend. Piece of him now, a piece of you afterward. Then my boys form a line.

Let go my Francisca! Guálter shouted. In his bloody apron, he started across the street with his raised cleaver.

One of the boys holding Francisca put a knife to her throat. Stop right there, old man.

Halfway across the street, wide-eyed Guálter stopped his advance. Sharp or dull, at that distance, his clever was worthless.

Two

Diniz Claudio turned to his tormentor when the knife started to cut into his finger. Behind Bobby, at the back end of the alley, a billowing cloud bloomed. He blinked at the expanding ground level thunderhead. Within the heaving smoke, silent lightning flashed and multicolored fire throbbed and undulating. Mouth agape, Diniz stared at the spectacle in disbelief. Then, as quickly as it had come, the cloud suddenly receded as if sucked back into the wall, leaving two men in its place.

At first, Diniz thought they were angels come to save him. He shook his head and blinked again. On second thought, they looked like asylum-seeking refugees fresh off the boat from hell. Each, with a rucksack slung over his shoulder, carried a suitcase as weathered and tattered as its owner. They looked around to consider their surroundings until their eyes fell on Diniz and the punks hurting him.

Diniz didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Was this the booze or his desperation making him see things? He shook his head and blinked again. The men remained. One, the taller of the two, smiled at him, and Diniz felt a glimmer of hope.

"Where did they come from?" one boy said.

Without releasing Diniz’s hand, Bobby turned to see what had captured everyone’s attention.

Comic-Con, said another, trying to be funny. Look at him. That’s Booker Dewitt from Bioshock Infinite.

Comic-Con is next month, stupid countered the first.

Nice getups though, another boy said.

The others sniggered.

Bioshock? said one of the younger boys. No way. He’s Sebastian Castellanos from ‘The Evil Within’.

Shuddup! Gentry said as the two men approached. They’re just two more bums looking to get whizzed on.

The newcomers exchanged looks. You looking to get sozzled, Garrett? said the taller of the two.

Not me, Dan, said the blond. Sounds like foolish talk from an idiot child.

Gentry grinned. And this from two retards who just stepped out of a video game. Aren’t you a little old to be playing dress up?

Diniz didn’t care who they were, as long as they didn’t walk past unconcerned. They looked to be near Bobby’s age, just not as juvenile.

Without taking his eyes from the newcomers, Gentry yanked his knife, taking the old man’s fingertip.

Diniz screamed and jerked free to hold his now bloody nub in callused fingers as the viscous red fluid flowed between them to begin its journey down his hand and wrist into his sleeve.

Bobby tossed the finger at the taller of the two, the one the blond called ‘Dan.’ It hit his vest and fell to his feet.

Dan threw Bobby a puzzled look that quickly turned to perplexed disapproval. That’s it? That’s the first impression you want to leave me with, that you’ll not survive the year?

Despite his pain and blood, Diniz considered the encounter.

Oh, not good, Garrett said with a grave face. His concern seemed more for Gentry than for his friend.

Tough guy, Bobby Gentry, had a rep to maintain; one of which he didn’t want to lose to street bums. His not-so-veiled threat had inadvertently crossed a line with this Dan fella. He had drawn the new guy into his business, sure, but his doing so didn’t have the affect he desired or had hoped for. For the first time, it seemed, Bobby regretted the choice he had made.

No, Dan answered Garrett, as he set down his suitcase and rucksack. That wasn’t very bright at all.

Gentry looked back to see if his posse was with him. They were. Francisca though, the look in her eye—‍one of mystified admiration‍—said she saw something in the newcomers Bobby himself had longed for.

A few of the older boys stepped forward to stand with Bobby, and to block any escape either man might make. It was then that the second newcomer set down his pack and case. Like the first, his movements were smooth, paced, and deliberate.

Look here, Booker, Bobby said to the taller of the two now stepping forward. Each footfall brings you that much closer to a world of pain.

With a thin smile, Dan didn’t slow his determined stride.

Considering the approaching man’s clothes, one boy had to ask, Think he knows about Bioshock Infinite?

I don’t know, said another. Let’s find out. Hey, guy, it’s a video game. You know it?

Dan ignored him.

No? Never mind.

As the man stepped forward, he measured each boy critically, then looked past Bobby to Diniz. You okay, old man?

Still clutching his bloody hand, Diniz nervously glanced at the knife-wielding boys.

Left-handedly, Bobby raised his blade, but kept his grip loose and casual as he twirled it threateningly toward Dan. Welcome to the bad side of town, he said with a smirk.

Southpaw, huh? You know how to use your right hand?

No, Bobby sneered, then laughed as if he had wrapped that simple, single, one syllable word in brilliance.

The stranger snatched his knife and drove it into the brick wall, pinning Bobby’s hand in the process. Too bad.

Stunned by his own knife locking him to the brick, Bobby’s scream came as an afterthought.

His crew, caught off guard, hesitated, then dove at the newcomer, stabbing and slashing with their knives.

Dan batted away each attempt or turned it back on the young attacker. Though he fought expertly, too many had come at him to fend off everyone. The fight ended at the sound of a cocked gun.

The second man, the one called Garrett, had turned a short rifle on the boys. Anyone want to play a real-life version of Bioshock? Keep acting like zombie retards.

Wide-eyed and uncertain, the boys stopped, then backed away to leave Bobby alone with the gunman.

Unable to free himself without causing more damage to his hand, Bobby Gentry, now audibly bawling, clutched the knife’s grip.

Dan turned to Bobby. That’s when Diniz noticed the shank buried in his side. Without a tear, Dan pulled the short homemade dagger slowly from his own flesh. Despite what had to have been excruciating pain, he acted as if his getting stabbed was nothing new, and tossed the crude metal, bloody as it was, aside like only so much trash. Then he did something strange. He gave Gentry’s face a friendly pat as if they were old buddies.

Confused and hurting, Bobby didn’t know what to think.

Dan then gripped the handle of the knife that held Bobby to the wall. Oh, yeah, that’s in there good. You better brace yourself. Before Bobby could, Dan snapped the hilt off and tossed it over his shoulder.

Bobby yelped, then clenched his teeth to keep from screaming.

There you go, Dan said, as if satisfied with a completed work.

The handleless blade hadn’t let go of Gentry’s hand. I’m still pinned, man!

You can either pull yourself free, boy, or rot right where you stand. It’s up to you.

It hurts, man.

It hurts? Really? Dan raised an indifferent grin. And what you do to others doesn’t?

Gentry looked at the old man still clutching his severed finger. He didn’t meet Dan’s eyes, and to Diniz, that was a curious thing. Big, brave, Bobby Gentry had until then terrorized everyone, strutting around with his chest puffed out like he owned the world. He did, Diniz supposed, until Dan showed up. Now he just looked like a little boy who got caught kicking kittens.

Dan took hold of Gentry’s shirt. I want you to understand something. Let me be clear. Whatever you dump on someone, I’ll dump twice on you. You got that?

Still pinned to the wall and clutching his wrist, Gentry