"What is it?" Anton could hear his younger self asking his older sister a question. He was having the dream again. Something was different though, he wasn't a child. He could see himself as a child but Anton himself, his point of entry into the dream, was his adult self. That was new. He kept watching.
The child held his sister's hand as they stared out the window at the plant that was about to explode, killing everyone the boy knew. A brilliant light flashed across the horizon right on cue and the world was washed away. Anton waited to hear him and his sister screaming and for the sudden jolt of consciousness but it never came. Instead the light became marred with a darkness and his head began to throb. With a swirling burst of activity the murky light faded and Anton was sitting in his room, watching himself draw at his desk. From down the hall his sister's music blared and it pained his aching brain.
Anton had a moment of clarity and realized that his dream was happening in reverse. He had no recollection of that day prior to drawing at his desk and found it intriguing. Moreover he thought back to the UFO. He had been closer to it than anybody, at least he thought so. Had something happened? Anton began to wonder if he was okay.
After filling in a few salmon-colored apples, young Anton let out a loud sneeze and seemed to fall into a daze. Down the hallway Anton heard his older sister yelp in shock. The child snapped back to reality and hurried to her, leaving his drawing unfinished upon the desk. Anton approached it and smiled as his fingers ran across the stick figure representations of his family under an apple tree. The colors on the page began to run and smudge and Anton panicked. He had ruined the picture!
Before Anton could reason with himself the room filled with a bright white light and he could hear screaming from down the hall. The darkness came more quickly this time and swirled about him. Anton looked around as his room fell away and the garage came into view. He was there at his Dad's work bench with some of his Mom's work equipment. There were a few beakers and odds and ends strewn across the table. Anton watched as his younger self looked at the different colored liquids, unaware of how potentially dangerous they were. Then Anton saw it.
The child poured two of the chemicals together and swirled them around. They bubbled for a bit but seemed mostly inert. From the kitchen Anton could hear his big sister calling him to dinner. It must have been the night before the explosion. Young Anton hurriedly put the chemicals back into their sleeves in his Mom's work bag and ran inside. Anton stood there staring at the concoction through the open zipper as it slowly changed colors and became dark red. A volatile mixture for sure. Probably enough to clear a small room if it went off. But if it went off in a laboratory around other chemicals...
"You finally remembered, Anton. It sure took you long enough!" A dark presence filled the garage in Anton's dream. He turned and was shocked to find himself face to face with... himself. "That's right. You caused the explosion at the plant. It was you who killed your family and everyone in your town. Now, I think that's pretty swell. I should know, it was my idea. But I guess I couldn't have known just how big that explosion would have been. A child's retaliation for being scolded by a parent. Who knew you had it in you?"
Anton backed away from his sinister self but found he had nowhere to run. The garage was gone and he was alone in the darkness with himself.
"Truthfully, I had hoped to have more time with you. But that darn explosion trapped me in a deep, dark place. Thankfully you're such a trigger happy fellow and walked right into the kind of danger that could bring me back out. One giant explosion later and a few decades and here I am. Here we are. So..."
Anton felt himself being drawn toward his repressed self. He could not run. He could not speak. He could not do anything except watch. The two beings merged into one and the darkness fizzled away. Anton looked up at the collapsing void. "Let's get this show on the road."
... BRRP BRRP BRRP BRRP BRRP BRRP BRRP BRRP BRRP BRRP BRRP BRRP BRRP BRRP BRRP BRRP BRRP BRRP BRRP BRRP BRRP BRRP ...
An alarm clock was blaring in a motel on the west side of Podunkville, near the police station. With a groan, Anton rolled himself onto his side and slammed the "off" button. It was the morning, 8:31 to be exact. Pulling on a T-shirt, the bartender walked out of his motel room and leaned on the second floor balcony. One room over, Anton's neighbor was enjoying a cup of coffee from a beach chair strategically situated so that he could see the YMCA pool across the street. Taking a deep breath of warm, dry air, Anton stretched a bit and collected his thoughts.
Today he had to pick up a bunch of lottery tickets for the Old Man. That was Anton's boss down at the bar he worked at during the evening. He had found the place, Scott's Great Spirits, in the paper when he came to Podunkville a few months earlier. It was the latest stop on Anton's tour of the Midwest and was becoming a favorite of his. The Old Man wasn't half bad either, though he always had Anton going here and there for lottery tickets. He had a particular fondness for scratch-offs so Anton always made sure to get a few extras.
As Anton thought about his plans for the day he spied a strange motorcycle rolling down the main drag. He'd never seen anything quite like it and he'd seen a lot, being a bartender at biker bars and all kinds of houses of ill-repute. He watched it go by and was a little startled as the rider seemed to turn and look directly at him. Anton tried to make out the man's face but he couldn't really see it, though he felt it looked a bit familiar. Probably just a customer he'd seen some night while at work. The rider vanished down main street and Anton returned to his thoughts on the day. He took another deep breaths of air and turned back into his motel room for a shower. It was going to be a day, he had one of those feelings.
Elsewhere in town, a group of very confused individuals (and a few robots) were reeling from an explosion that had occurred in a place not unlike Podunkville. In fact most of them were pretty sure it had happened exactly where they were standing; though a simple glance at their surroundings told them that something had gone horribly right. The town appeared normal again. Citizens were starting their days and the streets were dotted with a few cars, none of which were on fire. The UFO was nowhere to be seen and the sky was crystal clear. It was a normal day in Podunkville. And it was a day that all of them had already experienced once before.
The countdown to destruction had begun.