“I don’t get it. Who would want to unleash something like this?”
Joma shrugged. “I don’t know, Jack. When I had the dream, I caught short flashes of the man responsible, but for some reason I kept getting images of a…of a doll’s face, or something. It was strange. Anyway, I doubt they expected the virus to exterminate mankind. It was probably just a terrorist act supposed to cause an international incident akin to 9/11. I don’t think they understood the immensity of what they were in possession of. All I know for sure is that if you do not stop this virus from reaching the shores of France, everyone is doomed.”
Jack felt faint. The throbbing of his neck wound had progressed to a full-on drumbeat pounding in his ears. “So what do I do? How do I stop it?”
Joma seemed to deflate. “I don’t know. I just knew the danger was coming and acted as fast as I could to stop tomorrow arriving until you could find a solution.”
Jack took another swig of whisky and felt himself getting a little dizzy. He didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the surrealism of the conversation. “How did you stop tomorrow coming? Tally said that you’re a pathwalker and that you can see alternate realities or something, but how did you mess with time itself?”
“By giving up the essence of my soul.”
Jack found himself laughing at the drama of the statement, but then he thought about what it meant. “What do you mean? Is that why you’re older than you were?”
“I’m dying Jack. Every time the day resets and I hold back tomorrow, I age. Only eight or nine days at a time, but eventually I’ll run out of life and then the spell will break with my death. You have to put a stop to this before it puts a stop to me. There is a candle in my room that gets smaller every day. It is how I fused my essence into the flow of time and gave myself the power to manipulate it.”
Jack shook his head and looked at Joma. The man was already looking haggard and drawn. He hated to think how he would look in another week or two. “So, to save the world you had to give up your life?”
“It’s my purpose, Jack. Many of my ancestors have done the same. Global catastrophe is something that threatens us more often than you would think, and it always starts with a small-minded group of people with a big idea. I was born knowing that I may have to die before my time. That is the burden people like me carry – it is both our honour and our burden. Don’t make my premature ending be in vain, Jack. You must find a way to stop this. You have to-”
“Joma!” Jack staggered from the cube sofa and on to his knees. There was a burning in his stomach that was in contrast to the numbness everywhere else. He stared up at Joma and saw the man through a red-hazed filter. “Joma,” he repeated. “The bite wound on my neck…I’m changing. You have to…”
Joma raised the bloody, glass ashtray above his head and brought it down hard.
Day 247
Jack sat up in bed and cursed out loud. His death had cut his conversation with Joma short just when things were becoming clearer to him. While he had learned many of the answers he had sought about what was going on, he still had no idea what the hell he needed to do. Joma had said that time was running out and that if Jack didn’t stop the virus it would wipe out the world. It was time to focus.
Sea Sick: A Horror Novel
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