The Loop

By M. R. Price

Have you ever went somewhere new, and had that odd feeling that you've been there before? Watched a new movie, but swore you've already seen it? Déjà vu is not a coincidence, nor is it fantasy. The world as you know it is trapped in a repeating cycle, and there is only one person that knows, and knowing i

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Butterfly Typeface
• Release date: Oct 31, 2021
• ISBN: 9781951883744

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The Loop

M. R. Price

Copyright © 2021 by M. R. Price

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Printed in the United States of America

First Printing, 2021

ISBN 978-1-951883-56-0 (paperback

ISBN 978-1-951883-74-4 (ebook)

Butterfly Typeface Publishing

PO Box 56193

Little Rock, AR 72215

www.butterflytypeface.com

Contents

Acknowledgments 5

Prologue: My Heart 7

Chapter 1: A Good Life 13

Chapter 2: A Friend 24

Chapter 3: Pointed And Fired 42

Chapter 4: Truly Meant for Me 51

Chapter 5: Close In Around Me 67

Chapter 6: Call Them To Us 78

Chapter 7: All Went Dark 90

Chapter 8: Where’s Bethany? 109

Chapter 9: Battle Cry 134

Chapter 10: I Love You 147

Epilogue: A Letter to Daniel 155

Acknowledgments

I would like to thank my wonderful mother for always believing in me even when I didn’t believe in myself. Thank you to my father for always being there to pick me up when life knocked me down. Monica Petter, author of Kite Strings, The Goodbye Letters, and many more books, without her guidance and encouragement this book would have never made it onto my laptop. Lastly, I want to thank the love of my life. Thank you, Babe, for sticking by my side and for giving me this wonderful life. Without you, this book would never have been published. You’re my reason for wanting to be better, to be more, and to be the man you deserve.

PROLOGUE

My Heart

I used the dark to my advantage and became a shadow in the night. I crouched, motionless, waiting for my opportunity. I was not twenty feet away from the back entrance of the museum. Inside was my goal. Too long had I been looking for this. I just hoped that this wasn’t yet another dead end in my never-ending search as to why. There were two guards armed with M4s, not the usual security for a museum. I listened in on the conversation going on between the two, What is it we are supposed to be looking for? He spoke Arabic, not a common language for England.

I’m not sure, my friend. I was told to be on the lookout for anyone suspicious wanting to enter here and if necessary, to shoot on sight.

What do you suppose is in there?

I do not know my friend, and I do not want to know.

I knew what was in there. I just hoped that it was as important as I thought it was. I’d had many run-ins with these Iraqi security guards. Slaves to the gods, and they didn’t even know it. They did what they were told, killed who they were told to kill, and got paid handsomely for it. If only they knew, they would throw down their weapons immediately and walk away. I’d tried to reason with them before. I tried to explain who they actually worked for, but they never believed me.

After some time, I felt that they finally started to relax on their post. It was finally time to make my move. Luck was on my side this night. The clouds covered the light of the moon, as a light rain rattled off the tin roof of the guards’ post. I made my way around the parking lot, careful to stay out of the light. The guards continued their conversation, oblivious to my presence. Finally, in position, I grabbed a rock around the size of a half-dollar and chucked it at the streetlight closest to them shattering the bulb.

What was that? Did the light just blow?

I don’t know. Go check it out. Both guards were now on high alert, but it was too late. I was in position, and I was very good at this. I sneaked up behind the remaining guard and put my hand over his mouth while sticking my blade in his throat. The only sound he made was a low groan as his life left him. I made my maneuver very quickly like I was trained to do. I pulled him into the darkness, and he laid still, lifeless. The other guard was still clueless about my presence.

There’s nothing here, man! I heard the other guard yell out, just some broken glass, do you think we should call it in? Luckily, there was only one radio between the two of them, and it was in my hand, silent.

Aarif? You there? I heard his footsteps coming back to me. Where are you, man? He made it back under the awning looking scared. Hey man, quit messing around here. This isn’t funny. He gasped as he saw me, but it was too late. With one knife straight into his throat, he couldn’t make a sound. I dragged both guards into the bushes. The local police would find them in the morning, but I’d be long gone by then in a different country, with a different identity, and a different life.

See you in the next life, I said as I closed their eyes for them. May you rest well. I made my way into the museum. Stealth was going to be a lot harder in there. It was lit up like a hospital. I very well couldn’t disguise myself as one of them. A Caucasian amongst people of Arabic descent would stick out like a sore thumb, nor would their clothes fit me. I was only fourteen and not yet grown into my adult body, so I kept to my attire, dark grey pants and a shirt. The fabric made no noise at all. My throwing knives were sheathed on both legs, twelve knives to be exact. Another knife was on my right ankle. I had my 9mm in my dark grey shoulder holster, in case stealth was no longer an option. I wasn’t scared to die. It was a fact of life, but I tried to avoid such inconveniences.

I began to make my way through the museum. I knew the blueprint of the building through and through. I only had to look at it once, I was born with a photographic memory, I remembered everything. Numbers, letters, stories, it didn’t matter. I could recite any book I’d read verbatim. If only I could forget, I thought.

I listened intently for any sound, ready to spring into action at any moment. The museum was quiet. I hated the quiet. It made me wonder. It made me think. Where were the guards? I wondered. I’d watched the guards enter. There were many, and in a place like this, there were only so many places for them to be. If they weren’t here, that meant they had to be in the basement, and how I hated basements, one way in and one way out. I was trained. I was very good, but even with my skills, the odds were against me.

The fossils loomed over me, threatening to eat me alive, but they did not move. Each clay sculpted caveman I saw looked to be a threat. Though I was well trained in silence, each step seemed to reverberate off the walls around me, just my paranoia, I’m sure.

As I passed by the bathroom, I heard a toilet flushing. So, I waited. As soon as the door opened, I hit the man hard in the solar plexus with a left hook, followed by a right into the throat. The man went down gasping for air. A second man came rushing after me wielding a knife. He jabbed it at me with his right hand. I deflected it with my right and placed a left palm strike into his elbow, causing it to hyperextend. He yelled in pain, but the scream was abruptly stopped by one last well-placed right hook into his throat. I took out one of my knives and made sure that they weren’t going to be getting back up in this life. I dragged them both into their own stalls and locked the doors. To anyone that came looking for them, it would look as if they were using the facilities. I put my ear up to the door and listened for anyone on the other side before I exited.

I finally made my way to the stairs. I always hated stairs. Going downstairs wasn’t bad, but I had to ascend at some point. There was always a disadvantage to that. I made my way carefully down the stairs counting 30, two flights of 15. I quickly did the math of how quickly I could make it back up if I had to fall back. I finally got to the bottom. A single guard stood watch at the doorway, looking inward. Amateur mistake, I sneaked up behind him. With quick work with my knife, I silenced and removed him from the doorway.

No one noticed, and I allowed a sigh of relief before peeking in. They were all gathered around a table in the middle of the room. Even what remained of the security detail had full attention on the artifact on the table. This is too easy, I thought. I looked around for anything I could use to my advantage and found the breaker. I worked my way over to it, mindful of their line of sight. While their examination took place, darkness fell. It was pitch black in the room. I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face, but I didn’t need light. I knew my way around the room, and with my training, I could fight by sound.

Scientists and security guards alike ran around in a panic. Many people bumped into me, not knowing who they were bumping into; I weaved through the panicking crowd over to the artifact. One guard noticed my hands reaching for the artifact and tried to stop me, but he was soon on the floor clutching his throat. I grabbed it and ran to the door. I noticed the weight and size; it was about the size of a bowling ball and weighed maybe ten pounds. By the time the lights came back on, I was already on the first floor, and seconds later, I was gone again a shadow in the night.

Four years had passed, and I was still no closer to finding any answers. The artifact at the museum had been another dead end. I’d found no solid leads since then. I was 18-years-old. I was finally able to grow some facial hair; it was much easier to disguise myself as an adult. With a beard and a pair of sunglasses, my own brother couldn’t pick me out in a crowd. I preferred to keep it low. If I was discovered, I’d be hunted, and nothing was more irritating for me. I hated starting over. I had many different identities. My true identity was Daniel Ray Walker, born September 3rd, 1985, but it was hard for even me to remember that name sometimes. At that moment, I had thirty different identities I went by. Each with its own fingerprints and social security numbers. It took knowing the right people and having the right kind of money to get fake IDs that good. I, fortunately, knew the stock market through and through. I talked my father into investing in stocks when I was only 6-years-old.

We made it rich. From then on, I dropped out of school and got a diploma elsewhere also at an early age. School was boring to me. There was nothing left for them to teach me. I literally knew it all, had seen it all before, and as I said before, once was all I needed to see it. I made my way through town. Though I had cars, I preferred to walk often. There was never a need for me to be in a hurry. Time was an endless cycle, so why be in a hurry for anything. What you’re looking for will be there by the time you get there. When I made it to the spot, I was early. I knew that internet stocks were going to boom here in just a few hours; I was going to make my investment at just the right time.

I leaned up against my usual parking meter and waited, taking a moment to reflect. What was my next move? Where hadn’t I looked? What hadn’t I done? At that point in my life, it was hard to find a place where I hadn’t looked. I’d seen parts of the pyramids that nobody had ever seen before. All the well-known ancient sights were dead ends, and I’d seen them all. It was going to be something small and well hidden. These weren’t the kind of people who hid things in plain sight. No, it was well hidden and an even better kept secret. I was betting that any human on earth knew anything about it, and whoever on earth did know about it also was not hiding in plain sight. I’d talked to every celebrity of my generation from actors, to the president, I’d even spoken to every king and queen alive. Whoever I was looking for wasn’t part of any known government. This wasn’t a human affair. The only humans involved were pawns.

As I stood there with my eyes closed, I could see everyone that passed in front of me. I’d seen them all before. The same conversations, the same people, nothing changed, ever. I heard heels. The woman in the blue dress was talking to her husband about taking the dog to the vet. Never did hear what was wrong with the dog though.

I heard the quick steps of a small child. Here it comes, I thought. Mom, look!

Sam, no! A slimy snail, I smiled to myself. Off in the distance, I heard the high school students. Ms. Valedictorian was too afraid to ask the captain of the football team to prom.

Bethany, what is wrong with you? You’re co-captain of the cheerleading squad, and you know you’re going to be valedictorian. Why won’t you just ask him? There was a pause. Wait, what. I opened my eyes, The valedictorian was staring right at me. This was new. This had never happened before. Bethany, are you listening to me?

She blinked and shook her head, Yeah, sorry, I just had a case of déjà vu.

Her friend laughed, Well, that’s nothing new. So, seriously, why won’t you ask him? I watched them pass by, and I continued to watch them. The valedictorian kept looking back my way. She recognized me. My heart started to race.

CHAPTER 1

A Good Life

Why is this all so familiar to me , I wondered. I looked around the classroom and had the overwhelming sensation that I’d seen all this before.

Bethany? Bethany, are you paying attention?

I’m sorry, ma’am. I got lost for a second.

Of course, you did. Well, class, this is the formula for finding the circumference of a circle. Multiply pi by the diameter of the…

Why do I even need this? I thought to myself, and again, Why does it feel like I already knew the answer to this question even though I had never taken this class in my life? It seems like I’ve seen this before. The same teacher, same chalkboard, wearing the same ridiculous blue dress, same…

Bethany!

Yes ma’am?

Perhaps you can tell the class the answers to these questions then. She held the piece of chalk out to me and beckoned me forth. I meekly stood up and walked forward smoothing my jeans as I did. I looked at the board on which had many different math formulas written. I took the chalk from her and immediately began writing out the answers, taking just a few minutes to answer them all correctly. My teacher checked my work with a look on her face that clearly stated that she was hoping I was wrong, but I was very correct. Please, try to pay attention, she finally said.

Yes ma’am, I answered. I walked back to my seat feeling all eyes on me. I was used to that by now. Some people envied me. I was one of the most popular girls in school and a straight-A student, as well as co-captain of the cheerleading squad. However, I was still humble enough not to dress like one of the preppy girls. I never had a thing for miniskirts or low-cut blouses. I grew up with Jimmy playing football and baseball in the backyard. I was never afraid to get my hands dirty. My mom wanted me to get into dance. She forced me really, and