Monday, January 12, 2015

Suicide by Wormhole

Jens sat alone on the park bench, hands thrust into the thin pockets of his second hand trenchcoat.  Before him lay the understated view of the Yenisei River and central Krasnoyarsk, the view he had seen so many times before.  He thought again about the "meteorite" of 1749, and about what (who?) had been discovered "onboard".

That had all been so long ago.  How tired he had become.  He looked at his watch.  He wasn't showing.  Jens rose from the park bench, dropped the handful of birdseed from inside his pocket on the ground, and walked.

It was then that he had decided.  It could be done.

It was just that simple.  The thing is, the thing that none else knew.  Kirchoff didn't die in the 'accident'.  Jens knew where he was.  And how to get to him.

Remove the cause, and cure the disease.  The only way Jens could ever hope to die.  He would time travel to 209 B.C. and kill the monster that had bitten and infected him so long ago.

He just had to find Glenn first.

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