Days Gone By Chapter 7—Time Irritates All Wounds
Novel Excerpt by Abram Dress
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Norfolk, Virginia
Time is getting weird
Captain Avery took a long, almost reluctant pull from his pipe before setting it aside, his eyes clouded with memory or regret. Around the tavern, the quiet murmur of conversation had faded as the patrons, once rapt with attention, slipped back into their private solitudes, leaving only echoes of shared stories. At the weathered table, Nancy Wold offered a small, rueful smile and shook her head as if trying to dislodge the weight of unspoken truths. Nearby, the Magician toyed with a ball of fire that danced uncertainly between his fingers—like a mystical fidget spinner fumbling in the dark.
"I lost Rebecca Michaels long ago, as I have lost so many," Avery began, his voice composite of sorrow and resolve. "But it was her brilliance that led me here today—to speak with you."
"God! You are so full of shit, old man," Devin snapped, his laugh more a tremulous chuckle laden with discomfort than genuine mirth. The pain from his fractured ribs pulsed as he spoke. "You know, I had a friend named Rebecca Michaels. A damn good friend. Of course you know that. Somehow."
The Magician’s eyes flickered up from his fiery distraction, arcing an eyebrow in measured surprise. Nancy’s eyes widened noticeably before she leaned back, her arms crossing defensively like a shield. Avery’s gaze darted toward the dark woman at her nearby table; a scowl briefly darkened his features before he locked eyes with Devin. "Is that true? That is a strange, painful coincidence."
Devin frowned, leaning forward with a growing sense of anguish. Had he even told this old man the truth? His recollection was hazy—blurred with regret and guilt. "Yeah, funny," he murmured, his voice conflicted.
Avery tensed, his jaw clenching as shadows deepened in the tavern’s flickering light. His beard, darker than memory, and the softened lines on his face hinted at secrets better left unspoken. Devin’s weary mind mulled over the inexplicable changes in the lamps—a subtle disturbance that made him wonder if reality itself was taunting him—someone was toying with his memories, and his anger surged.
"A funny coincidence? Your bizarre time-traveler, sci-fi pirate ship fairy tale includes one of my closest friends," Devin managed, determination laced with desperation as he met Avery’s gaze. "That’s funny."
"Indeed," Avery replied, lowering his eyes to his drink in what seemed a grudging display of contrition, or perhaps concealment. "Tell me about your friend. Your Rebecca Michaels."
Devin’s attempt to steer the conversation faltered like a weak current. He felt he was losing control of his own narrative, as though it had never truly been his. "She was… smart as hell, beautiful, despite the scars you somehow know about. Down to earth, funny as hell, and yes—a relentless pain in my ass," he admitted, voice laden with self-reproach and longing.
Avery’s whiskered smile was faint yet knowing. "That nails it, Mister Cole. She was remarkably aware—"
"Fuck off with that shit!" Devin erupted, his sudden stand sending the chair toppling and rattling the table, scattering spilled beers. "Don’t you dare pretend you knew her!"
Nancy's glance hardened as she looked up at him. "Chill, dude. He’s serious. I know it sounds messed up but it’s true."
"I saw Rebecca just a couple of months back. She’s not marooned on some god-forsaken island." Devin rubbed his throbbing temples as echoes of lost possibilities tormented him. "She’s... trying to help me find my sister. She’s working with her professor on something—something I can’t quite wrap my head around right now."
He leaned on the table as if bracing against the tide of painful memories. What had she said that day? Some vague legend about stopping those bastard plans to take Lisa away—something from southern Africa. His mind reeled in conflict: too many chances wasted, too many promises dashed.
Glancing up at Avery, Devin’s voice trembled with a mixture of anger and shattered hope. "Tell me again—where was the stone? Where did you find Rebecca?"
"Madagascar," Avery said slowly, his tone carrying a weight beyond mere geography. "It’s a large island off the coast—"
"I fucking know where Madagascar is!" Devin exploded, his hands slamming onto the table. "Fuck!"
He scanned the tavern, the faces of those gathered a collage of past lives. Seagoing attire, as if the place were a pirate haven from another era, stood in stark contrast to Nancy’s modern Star Trek tee and her garish green Crocs.
"Dude, I’m telling you," Nancy insisted, her smile as maddening as it was sincere, "these guys are real."
Avery exhaled slowly. "Mister Cole. Please, sit and tell me more about Rebecca."
Exhaustion and inner turmoil warred within Devin as he reluctantly straightened his chair and resumed his seat, drawing deep, conflicted sips from his beer. "Lisa and I—we were all the family left after Dad died. But Rebecca, she became family. First a stranger—adversary even—then a friend, then so much more... and then I let her down. I let them all down."
The beer dulled the edges of his pain, even as the resurgence of regret gnawed at him.
"It hurts, feeling like you’ve let down those who mattered most," came a somber voice from the dim, ghostly edges of the bar. "But sometimes, there’s hope in reclaiming what’s lost."
Devin turned to find the source: a lean man cloaked in loose, dark garments whose dark face was half-hidden in shifting lamp light. As he approached, Devin’s mind, already a tumult of wounded pride and raw anger, recognized a danger in the man’s measured, gait, not confrontational, but somehow deadly.
"You knew Rebecca, huh?" Devin challenged, his gaze laced with defensive bitterness.
The man pulled a heavy wooden chair close, setting his glass of water carefully between the Magician and Nancy. Taking a measured breath, he replied, "No, but I understand what she created—and the hope that has come with it."
"Who are you?" Devin demanded.
"Kato. I’m the Master-at-Arms on this... what did you call it? This fantastical time-traveling pirate ship."
Before Devin could respond, Avery interjected, "You’ll meet the crew in time. Mister Cole, you want Rebecca back, as much as I want her back, and others you’ve lost as well. Just listen."
Devin’s heart thudded painfully. Could he truly bring Lisa back? Restore what he’d broken? His voice felt bitter and weary as he said, "I’m listening. Right now, there’s nothing else I can fucking do but listen."
"The stone that lets us travel through time isn’t unique. There are others—more powerful ones." Avery’s words stirred a dangerous flicker of hope amid the disarray of despair.
"You're full of shit," Devin muttered.
Avery shook his head, exasperated. "One of those stones—the Stone of Redemption—is said to restore what has been most sorely lost."
"And what does that even mean?" Devin pressed, a brief surge of hope piercing through the pain. Restore what? Lisa? Rebecca? Dad? Mom?
"Anything." Saf offered quietly, extinguishing the bouncing flame in a clenched fist. “Everything.”
Devin leaned forward, hands trembling as he gripped an empty beer mug. "Why are you telling me this story?"
"If you, Mister Cole, could reclaim what you’ve lost—whatever or whoever it is—you’d do anything, wouldn’t you?"
The unspoken truth hit him: Lisa, his little sister who’d once looked up to him, had been lost because of his failures—failed investigations, dashed dreams, and endless, fruitless attempts. He exhaled the bitter taste of resignation. "Anything. Any lengths."
"And so would I," Avery murmured, glancing briefly at Saf across to Kato and then at Nancy. His eyes swept to the woman at the next table. "So would they... and so would she."
"Well, I'm not delusional. And I'm done with your bullshit story, your lies, your fake hope."
Captain Avery puffed his pipe again, his scowl deepening, while Kato merely crossed his arms in silent challenge. Nancy’s grin returned, half smug, half pleading as she nodded.
"Yeah, the old man’s often full of shit, but his stories hold truth," Nancy insisted as she slid her chair closer. "Look, dude, it’s all real. That old man has a time-traveling pirate ship, a crew pulled together from every time and place on earth. Some of these guys are pretty damn obviously futuristic—like McGee over there."
From the bar, the massive redhead raised his mug. His gloves were gone and his rolled up sleeves revealed arms of twisted chrome and steel and wires. His metallic fingers encasing the mug with a calculated precision.
"Some of them wield magic," she added, glancing at Saf, who casually flicked his fingers again to conjure the small, levitating ball of flame, then transforming it.
Devin’s gaze fixed on Saf’s fiery display, the flames shifting in color and size, morphing into shapes that promised both wonder and peril. Magic? Of course he believed in magic. Hadn’t magic been exactly what tore his life apart? But it was always power belonging to someone else, never something that helped him. What if everything that had worked against him could now be on his side? Shaking his head as if to dispel the surreal hope the idea ignited, he grumbled, "Alright, fine—maybe I believe there’s magic. But why are you here, talking to me?"
A wry smile played on Avery’s whiskered lips. "Well, some people are just excellent carpenters."
Devin thought back to interview advice his dad had given him, shortly before he died. “What happened to your last carpenter?”
Avery’s jaw clenched visibly. "His death was the price we paid to keep this quest alive."
"His daughters will be looked after—they’ll have chances beyond their wildest dreams. But they won’t have their dad," Nancy murmured gently, touching Devin’s shoulder. "I'm sorry, but we all want to finish this quest, even if not all of us make it."
Devin slumped back in his chair, his eyes wandering over the transformed tavern. The familiar floor had given way to worn planks, and the harsh glow of modernity had been replaced by the soft, flickering light of oil lanterns. There were no neon signs, no modern trappings—only the timeless ambiance of a place where lost souls clung to ancient hopes.
Behind him, the huge red-head rolled up his sleeves with a quiet, controlled strength. Devin’s gaze shifted from the crew—tattooed faces, strange scars, and implants from cultures lost and undiscovered—to his own inner turmoil. The scene resembled nothing short of a disconcerting, surreal cosplay convention.
"We are a family, Mister Cole," the Captain declared as he leaned forward, his voice heavy with shared sorrow. "We have all lost what mattered most to us. We have all been lost. But in this tavern, and others like it, we’ve found a new family—a new purpose."
The Captain extended his hand towards Devin. "You may have lost so much—maybe everything—but you can find family again. And you can find hope. Join us."
Devin’s heart pounding with conflicted resolution. "This is crazy. You’re all crazy," he said, pushing through the assembled crowd toward the exit. The crew parted silently, an unspoken understanding hovering in the heavy air. He brushed past Kato, whose military-issue utility belt and weaponry contrasted sharply with Devin’s raw, tormented state, and then by McGee, whose metallic arms moved reflexively to hinder his escape, but then relaxed with a gentle whir.
Devin left the crowd behind him and grabbed the handle of the exit door.
He paused.
Beyond that door he heard car engines, and somehow the possibility of horse hooves.
Lisa is gone forever. But maybe she doesn’t have to be.
Through the door wafted the stench of car exhaust and poorly maintained trash-laden streets, but also fresh sea air.
The others are gone. But maybe not forever.
That door could take him back to the empty life he’d lived for too long. Or perhaps, if he did not go through the door alone, it could take him to something different.
I have nothing here. But maybe, just maybe, I’ll have something with them.
He looked back at the crew of Redeeming Fancy, his hand still resting on the door handle. They were scarred and battered. They had nothing in common other than the choice they had made to join a crew and seek lost hope.
Rebecca had joined them, and she had been lost.
Chances were that the same thing would happen to him, but...
A family. A quest. A goal.
Hope.
His hand dropped from the door handle.
He walked to the bar, where the tight-bearded quiet bartender slid a full mug to him.
Devin lifted the mug, sipped, braced his courage, and spoke. “Well, I have a story. And I need you to hear it.”
CONTINUE READING Chapter 8—Mister Bad Decisions
Copyright 2024 Abram Dress
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