Rabbit Hole

Twenty Years Earlier Headlights pressed on without breaking. Shredded to pieces across the road, smears of crimson ground into the asphalt. It was quick, but gruesome. He held what pieces remained close to him. She slipped away into another existence, and he could not follow. She fell in to the rabbit hole. Present Time In the time that had passed, children were born, raised. They had grown and built lives of their own. The Scientist had watched as the others surrounding his life experienced the craft of family with no tragedy. He did not believe in tragedy. Life was unfair to good men. His first true love was dead. His faith lied with machines and logic. On the promise of turning his findings over, the Scientist had acquired the funding and items he needed for his work. They were expecting him, but he would not be meeting with them. Eventually, they would come looking for him, but he would be gone by the time they arrived. In time, another version of his love must exist. In spaces outside of his own, some other version of her must be waiting! Through explanation, equation and experimentation, he had found a way to reach outside. He created an object out of a combination of bric-a-brac that would allow him to bend the rules of reality. Down a hole the rabbit went, and now he too could follow. He could bring her back. He heard a loud knock at the door of his laboratory. Trench-coats! If everything worked, they would not follow, and neither would his debts. He grabbed some other items from around the lab in preparation for any danger, then the bric-a-brac. He adjusted the dial based on where he believed she could be in reality. He flipped the switch on top, and a great flash washed over. Everything changed, yet nothing had. He could not put his finger on it, but there was no time to waste. The chain-mail men were breaking the door in to his room of Alchemy. Swords burst through. The Alchemist grabbed his bric-a-brac and went for the window. With hasty precision, he climbed down the stone walls of the castle. The chain-mail men were searching, he could hear the various scraps of armor brushing on each-other, like sharpening blades. As he continued down the walls, he mis-stepped, knocking off a chunk of the stone wall. It hit the ground next to some peasants, who shrieked out in fear. He struggled, but he kept his footing. "I found him! Stop, Alchemist!". As he looked back up, one of the chain-mail men had discovered him, and was pulling back an arrow on his wooden bow. Realizing he had no choice but to let go, the Alchemist aimed for a haystack, a long-shot at best. "I will let go of this arrow if you dare betray the King any further!", warned the chain-mail man. He pushed off, holding the bric-a-brac close to his chest, hoping no damage would result. With a cushioned thud, he hit. The arrow hit next to his head, thanks to luck he knew would eventually run out. He rolled out, and pushed through what he believed to be mud, but the smell argued otherwise. Peasants, servants, even some of the other chain-mail men watched in confusion as he stumbled toward the courtyard gates. Someone yelled, "Traitor to the King!" as he made his way to the gates. The other chain-mail men pulled their swords and went for him. Some pulled arrows. All others ran to safety. The Alchemist pulled a small bag of mixed powder-elements from his pocket. He threw it on the ground, where it burst in to a large cloud of smoke. He hoped this would buy him some time. He was almost to the gates now. He could hear the clanking and twanging of swords and arrows searching him out. He made it to the gates as the smoke cleared. Suddenly, his leg gave out, and he stumbled down the path leading away from the castle. Something had pierced him, but he refused to look. The pain would only sink in quicker if he looked before getting out of harm's way. The chain-mail men would follow soon. With hopes that adjusting the bric-a-brac would bring better results, the Alchemist flipped the switch once more. Again, he felt as though it was working, but nothing had changed. He hit the bottom of the forest in the flash. The pain in his leg was beginning to unravel. The Warlock flipped himself around, finding two lanterns following in the distance. They were coming for him. Placing the bric-a-brac in his pocket, he limped over to cover underneath a large tree's arched roots. In hiding, he hoped that he had bought some time. "Warlock! Devil-worshipper! Turn yourself in!", voices shouted from the forest. He knew not to do so. They could not be trusted. They had pressed a woman to death using boulders. They mistook her gifts for witchcraft. The other colonists did nothing. They too were frightened of what would happen. He looked at his leg where the source of pain came from. A musket ball was lodged deep in his flesh. Removing it without the proper tools would be of no use. Moving from point to point in the forest would be impossible without being noticed in some form. His next best option would be to adjust the bric-a-brac once more. He pulled it out of his pocket, but to his dismay found that the dial had snapped off when he hit the bottom of the forest. All that remained was a tiny metal rod that it attached to. The good news was he could still adjust it, but he would not know the extent of it. The lanterns grew brighter. They would find him. With the little hope he had left, he turned the rod, and flipped the switch. In the flash, he bumped the walling of the dumpster, a mistake he realized would be fatal. "Ovah here, in deh dumpstah!" one of the mobsters called out. The top of the dumpster shot open, and multiple arms reached out of the darkness for him. They threw him on to the ground, guns pointed at him from all directions. One of the men leaned down, coming face to face with him. It was the Boss. "So, youse dah rat, eh? You don't steal from deh family without payin' a lil' tribute to dah Boss". The Rat knew he had used them, and he held no regrets for his actions. He had the the bric-a-brac behind his back, knowing what he had to do. He twisted the rod. The Boss noticed the Rat fidgeting. "What youse got dehr?". "Va fa Napoli", the Rat said with a smirk. "Clip 'em!", the Boss shouted. As the Rat flipped the switch, he saw multiple flashes. This time, he could tell that there was change. There was space all around him. Everything was white. Had it finally worked? He looked up, and several men in dark robes greeted him. One of the robes moved forward. He grinned. "She is this way", he said, and the robes evaporated it to dark vapors, then nothing. There she was, all in one piece, and beautiful. He ran to her, faster and faster. He was almost upon her now. "It worked!" he cried out. 

Then everything changed once more. Driver hit something. Red splashed the windshield. He did not move his foot from the accelerator. There was no looking back. There was only moving forward. Driver continued down the road into the night, speechless.