The Karma Loop

Sometimes, you get a second chance to make things right. Think Groundhog Day crossed with Memento... only not as good.

ONE -- The Phone Call

 

The phone call jarred me to my soul. I sat on the edge of the spring lumped bed cradling my head in my hands. I was sweating. The air conditioner had broken sometime during the night. Humidity invaded room, giving everything a sticky, uncomfortably damp quality. The still air hung heavily with the smell of a hastily sprayed, flower-scented Febreze and the stink of soured cigarette smoke. 

Yellow light from an ancient incandescent bulb flickered its final hours of life from a nicotine stained lamp on the nightstand. The room was dark, except for the red glow of the alarm clock on the floor and a intermittent blue strobe from the police cars outside.

I was going to die.

The call had come at three in the morning. The phone didn't so much ring as it did vibrate the nightstand, endangering the delicate remains of the light bulb's filament. I fumbled for the receiver, and knocked the alarm clock to the floor. Red light from the digital clock face dimly illuminated the room. After a few experimental grabs, I picked up the receiver.

"Hello." I said, before I had the phone all the way to my ear.

"Hello," a familiar voice said. The handset rattled with the sound.

"Who is this?" I asked, still groggy. It had only been about fifteen minutes or so since I fell asleep.

There was a long silence, then, "This may be hard for you accept."

I started to nod off. My head rolled over onto the handset.

"Yep," I said, waking up a bit.

"In five minutes," he said, "you are going to die."

This new information made its rounds in my sleep-depraved brain, until finally settling in for processing.

"Say again," I said.

"In four minutes, you are going to die."

"Wait! I thought you said five minutes."

"That was a minute ago," he said.

Typically, I would have hung up by now. But I just couldn't shake the familiarity of that voice. Even through the damaged, rattling earpiece, I recognized the voice. I was suddenly wide awake.

"Who is this?" I asked. There was a moment of quiet. The line hummed with a low static and I couldn't help an escalating concern that I was running out of time.

"I," he said, "am you."

    

TWO -- Karma Bites

 

I hung up the phone. Hard. I was more than just a little pissed that I was taken in so easily. My mind was tired. My body was tired. Hell, for all I knew the phone call may have just been a dream.

I settled my head back into the smelly lump that occupied the place where a pillow should have been. It had a faintly burnt smell, like when clothes are left standing--wet--in the washing machine too long and then dried.

My eyelids slowly drifted down as my mind began to relax.

The phone rang.

I sprang upright in bed. My unwashed hair retained the contour of the misshapen pillow. My eyes were still closed.

The phone rang a second time. Annoyed, I reached over and picked up the phone.

Before I had a chance to speak, the voice said, "Two minutes."

I was angry, tired and worried. There was no good reason for me to believe what I was hearing, but I did. I saw a sometimes white, sometimes red pulse of light through my closed eyelids. After images and the black and white off-the-air static would fade in and out of my perception as it did.

I opened my eyes. The barely white curtains pulled over the window pulsed fast and glowed blue from a strobe in the parking lot. I was all too familiar with that particular flash.

"Cops." I said.

"Yes," said the phone. "One minute."

I rushed to my feet, frantically searching to gather my things and get dressed, only to realize that I had nothing and had worn my only clothes to bed. I dropped the handset and sat down on the edge of the bed.

I heard a tiny sound from the handset. I reached down and grabbed it roughly, desperately. The phone carriage was pulled from the night stand by its cord. The lamp flashed white and finally died with a faint pop.

"Why?" I asked the phone voice. "I didn't do anything."

 

THREE -- 30 Seconds

 

Yesterday became clear in my memory as the fog of sleep finally dissipated. The robbery hadn't gone as planned. Two people, a security guard, and a young blonde woman were dead. I didn't kill them, but I was with the remorseless one's who had and these innocent people's deaths were my fault. Because I didn't stop it. I didn't try.

The blonde woman and the security guard. They sensed that I was different. I wore a ski-mask, but they still knew I wasn't a danger to them. I tried to keep them calm. We argued. They were shot for it; the blonde woman in the head, once and final. The security guard got it twice in the chest, one slamming hard into his bulletproof vest, the other slipping by the edge of it and into his vitals.

They lay there, with their eyes open and faces in shock, looking at me. Blaming me for what I had done and for what I hadn't done. I felt pity. I felt remorse. I ran from the bank.

"You are... we are responsible." The phone voice said. "I've tried many times to fix it. This is as close as I've gotten."

"Fix it? How? What do you mean?"

"It would be impossible to explain... with the time you have left." The voice, my voice was nervous and hurried. "You have to die now. There won't be anymore chances if you survive tonight. WE have to die!"

I threw the handset down. I needed my keys. I had to leave. I reached into my pocket. The door flew inward, nearly broken from its hinges.

The officer drew and fired.

 

FOUR -- The Phone Call

 

The phone call jarred me to my soul...

Author's Note

Give it all!! Be harsh and critical... it'll all help

Reviews

[Will Neill]

Bill, once more I have the pleasure to read your story. I will take you at your word and be critical-I feel in this case you could have done better. personally I am not a big fan of the groundhog day theme but I see where you were going with it. A good title but I think you fell into the 'Telling' trap as opposed to the showing. This can be difficult to master (I'm still learning) and if you read it out loud you will see what I mean. The back story could have been described better with out the need to ramble just in case you were afraid of doing so. Also an insight into the protagonist ( how we are to see him) could be slipped in some how. I hope we can be friends Bill and it is good to see a fellow story writer on here. Check out Samuel Dickens on here (Tell him I sent you) he writes great short stories without long descriptions ( I think I can over cook things some times) and above all keep writing.
Take Care
Will