RICK

“You know I can’t approve this.”

“Someone was killed, sir. This is my job.”

“The problem is not with what happened, but what might.”

Rick said nothing, standing with his hands clenched by his side. Captain Bradley met his gaze, calm and sitting up as straight as ever in his chair.

“James had his shot, and Lennox is on another case,” Rick broke the silence. “You don’t really have a choice. We only have about 14 minutes left to catch the killer…”

“I do have a choice,” the captain interrupted. “I could close this case right now and not lose both of my best detectives. Something is definitely off about all of this.”

“He was my partner, sir.”

Captain Bradley stared at Rick for a few moments. He sighed, and slowly extended his left hand — there was a bandage wrapped around his right. For a split second, Rick thought it would be an open palm beckoning for his Jumper.

Rather, it was simply an invitation to shake hands — and so they did.

“Are you going with the chubby look again? I liked that one.”

“You know I can’t tell you, Captain.”

“Be safe.”

Rick opened his eyes — it was standard protocol, after all, to have them shut during a time jump.

He surveyed his surroundings, and was satisfied to note that he had landed exactly where had wanted — right across the street from the local gym.

He checked the Jumper on his wrist. 833 shimmered gently on the screen, a reminder of the seconds he had left at his disposal. If all went well, the portal back in the office would pull him back to the present at 0.

A wave of nausea — as expected — washed over him.

The life of a detective is not for everybody — to travel back in time to crime scenes, and to wait for the guilty to commit their acts before apprehending them.

It is the latter point that people struggle to comprehend, or accept…

Time bends, but only to a certain extent.

History is absolute, since any modification made to the past will simply create a new future — an alternative timeline, within which the jumper responsible becomes trapped. Nothing will have changed in the worlds they travelled from, worlds they can no longer return to.

Precincts sourced almost as many staff from “trapped” detectives as they did from new recruits. But a detective’s pay was generous, and their families are cared for under any circumstance.

To minimize risk, protocol states that time jumps can only be done for up to 30 minutes after a crime occurs. Detectives must also jump alone — one variable was less intrusive than two.

There was a café behind him, and he turned — after a few deep breaths — to assess his reflection in the window. Detectives were not only trained to be discrete and inconspicuous, they always jumped under disguise as well to avoid being recognized.

No, he had not gone with last week’s portly “time skin”. Rather, he had programmed his face to be longer and more angular than usual — occupied now by a pair of nondescript, rectangular glasses. He had also opted for darker hair, leaving it short and unremarkable.

His watch vibrated ever so slightly, and Rick turned back around towards the gym. He saw James walk out of the building — there was a duffel in his right hand, and a nasty looking green shake in his left. He was sweaty and a little disheveled, but so very much alive.

James was headed for the grocery store about two blocks away, and the disguised followed from across the street.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary — the weather was fair, the traffic was steady. Police radio, broadcasting to an audio pod in Rick’s left ear, was mostly silent besides the occasional burst of static. It was probably Greg, who always managed to sit on his transmitter unknowingly.

James arrived at the entrance and paused. Rick watched as his partner flipped open the cap on his shaker bottle. He raised it to his mouth, and seemed to shudder as the sludge made contact with his lips — so too did Rick, who had been tricked into trying this “miracle concoction” (James had exclaimed slyly) just last week.

Rick snapped out of his thoughts in time to see James slipping through the automatic doors. He took a quick glance at his watch, where 511 stared right back at him.

He darted across the street, and was hit by the smell of fried chicken (not the crispiest, but decent overall) and potato wedges (a bit greasy) as soon as he entered the supermarket himself.

According to the case notes, James had been shot in the dairy department — Aisle 12, near the back of the store. Rick cut through the bakery, wondering how the facilities there managed to produce such dry croissants.

Forensics had detected a trail of blood leading to a fire exit near Aisle 3. It was there that Rick would need to cut the killer off.

399. 398.

A cold, metallic voice filled Rick’s ear. His jumper must have hit 400, and was now audibly counting down his seconds left.

Rick reached the meats (pork tenderloin was on sale), and continued jogging quietly towards the milks and yogurts.

375. 374.

He reached Aisle 11.

Rick kneeled, hiding behind a massive bin of granola bars — 12 was just to his right. He poked his head out slowly to have a look.

James — who always carried himself as if he had all the time in the world — was indeed standing down at the far end of the aisle. He seemed to be frowning at a tub of cottage cheese.

Rick took off his glasses and popped the right lens out. Sliding it gently onto the floor, he put the glasses back on and tapped on his Jumper — the lens on the ground was now projecting a live view.

350. 349.

Rick began to reach for his gun in preparation, which was sitting in its holster by his right hip. He froze, however, when he saw a chillingly familiar figure entering the frame.

“You don’t actually eat this stuff do you, James?”

It was Captain Bradley, pointing to the cottage cheese.

“Sir!” James responded, sounding every bit as surprised as Rick was to see the captain. “I didn’t know you shopped at this fine establishment.”

“The lady sent me here for this,” the Captain said, and reached into his jacket. “But I can’t seem to find it anywhere…”

When his hand emerged, it held not a grocery list but a pistol — which he pointed at James.

“What’s going on Cap? Are you trying to get me back for that email prank from last week?”

“The board is done with us. I’ve been asked to get rid of you and Rick, and they’re threatening me with my wife and kids to make that happen. Our unit has been… too effective for their liking.”

“What, they want more crimes to go unpublished?”

“They want more crime in general. Rates have plunged year after year because people know they’ll be caught. We can’t have a society where the police are no longer needed.”

“Who is we?”

The captain pressed the gun into James’ chest.

“So you’re going to kill me? What about Rick? Or Lennox? How are you ever going to get away with this?”

“Well James, let’s just say that you’re not the only bright mind around here. I’m sure you’ve noticed, for example, that there isn’t even anyone in the store. Perks of being a captain, you know. And speaking of Lennox, he should be here soon…”

Sweating now in his hiding spot, Rick cursed himself for being too distracted to have noticed how empty the store was.

“Now drop the cottage cheese, and put your hands up.”

James complied, letting go of the cheese. He raised his hands up slowly and said nothing, the container crashing onto the floor.

202. 201.

“Good bye James.”

Leaving him with no opportunity to respond, Captain Bradley pulled the trigger and James fell immediately.

Rick shouted out, shocked. He rushed into the aisle and the captain — not looking surprised at all — merely glanced in his direction sprinting away abruptly.

“Perfect timing, Rick.”

Rick charged forward, firing multiple shots at the captain who soon disappeared around the corner — the last appeared to connect with his right hand.

187. 186.

Rick dropped to his knees.

“Run… don’t let him get us both,” James gasped, looking up at his partner. He took one last breath, shuddered, and the colour began to drain almost instantly from his lifeless lips.

Captain Bradley was nowhere in sight, but his bleeding hand had left a sort of trail on the dull floor of the grocery store — one that led towards Aisle 3.

Rick took one last look at his dead partner before jumping to his feet in pursuit.

176. 175.

Someone tackled him to the ground, exploding from the popcorn and chips to his left.

Rick’s eyes widened when he realized it was none other than Lennox (in his signature bald look) who was trying to pin him down. They wrestled on the ground, grunting and hissing.

Rick twisted, and managed to drive an elbow into Lennox’s side. He got up shakily while his fellow detective writhed in pain, clutching at a broken rib or two.

142. 141.

It was obvious that Lennox did not recognize him with the time skin, so Rick began to fish out his badge. His hand was still inside his coat pocket when a bullet smashed into his back and through his chest.

Rick joined Lennox on the ground, face first.

133. 132.

Lying in a growing pool of blood, Rick felt someone flipping him over. He squinted — it was the injured Captain Bradley.

The captain was dressed as he had been during their meeting from earlier. His right hand was bandaged. There was a Jumper on the wrist of his left.

Rick could not move, nor could he make a sound.

127. 126.

Captain Bradley unclasped Rick’s Jumper, and removed it from his wrist. The captain slipped the watch into his own pocket. He also removed Rick’s audio pod, glasses, and badge.

The captain then shifted his attention to Lennox, who was curled up with his back towards them.

“Damn it Lennox, are you alright? I had to shoot, he was reaching for his gun. He could have killed you too.”

Lennox groaned in response, coughing. Oblivious to what the captain had just done, a stream of blood trickled down the corner of his mouth.

“Just stay still and don’t move,” Captain Bradley said to him, reassuringly. “Portal will bring us back in less than two minutes.”

The captain turned once more towards Rick. He had stopped breathing, and was lying there now as lifelessly as his partner James was just an aisle over.

“We got him Lennox, we got him.”