JAA Ch. 04: Lives of John Abernathy

Copyright ©2019 - This is an original work by Zeb Carter and is protected under copyright by U.S. copyright law. It is only submitted at Literotica.Com and any submission to any other site has not been authorized by the Copyright Holder/Author.

Note: This is the fourth in the John Abernathy series. There is no sex in this story. I will be posting other John Abernathy stories in the future in the order they should be read.

Order of the John Abernathy Adventures...

1. Aftermath

2. Time and Again

3. The Kings Undoing

4. The Lives of John Abernathy

5. Rerun

6. Winds of Change

In a small well-lit white room, John Abernathy lay on a small cot staring up into the indeterminate distance where the ceiling of his cell should be. The room, lit in such a way so no shadows were cast, was of a pleasant temperature. At his head, a short wall, behind which was the combination sink and toilet, stood. Other than the cot and facilities, the room was empty. John, on his first waking, paced the dimensions of his cell. They were generous; a fifteen by fifteen room was more than most prisoners received. That he was a prisoner he had no doubt. A room without doors is a prison by anyone's standards.

The last memory John had was of Susan, Michelle standing behind her, warning him to be careful, as he stepped through the portal. It had not been the first portal John had stepped through and until this very moment, he thought it wouldn't be his last. Lying on the cot, John contemplated the many lives he had lived. Three, three different lives, yet all so similar as to be the same. In each, the same people were there, situations just differed. How he had done that, he didn't know.

At the time he was living them he knew nothing of the other lives. It wasn't until he woke here that they came flooding into his consciousness almost overwhelming him. Yet the thought of those lives he had touched brought a smile to his lips.

"What have you to smile about John Abernathy?" a disembodied voice said.

"Fuck you."

"Interesting response," the voice replied.

Silence once more filled the room. Searching, John could not find the grill for the speakers. Smiling once more, John closed his eyes and thought about his multiple lives.

"What have you to smile about John Abernathy?"

"Life," he replied.

Silence once again filled the room. Lying there, John continued to think about what his other lives had accomplished. Whatever the mission, were they missions?, he had achieved his or someone's goal.

"You have no life."

John's smile became broader. Soon John was laughing, a deep laugh from his gut.

"You're right. I have no life. I actually have..."

"Five."

"...three of them," John finished his voice trailing off. "What did you say?" John demanded.

"Nothing..."

"Bullshit!"

"How many lives do you currently have knowledge of?"

"Three."

"I see. We have information on five in our files."

"I see."

"Mister Abernathy?"

John did not answer, he was...surprised, by the information he had just gleaned. He now knew he would not be here long. He had two more lives to live.

"Mister Abernathy?"

John remained silent. Closing his eyes, he soon drifted off to sleep.

When John woke, a table was beside the bed on which was a tray of food. Smiling, John swung his legs over the side of the bed and ate. As he finished the last morsel and placed the fork down atop the tray, the table suddenly disappeared into the floor of his cell. It reappeared shortly with a pitcher of water and a glass. Smiling John poured a glass full and drank deeply. Getting up, John carried the glass with him, placing it on top of the short wall between the bed and toilet. As he looked at the table, it remained.

Once finished with his morning routine, John once again lies on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He had yet to determine the height of the room.

"Mister Abernathy," a different voice echoed in the silence, "may we talk?"

"Sure, go ahead, there's no way for me to stop you."

"Not what I meant."

"Then maybe you better say what you mean."

"Will you talk with me, a simple conversation?"

"Sure, why not."

"Are you comfortable?"

"Sure."

"Do you know why you are here?"

"Where is here?"

"Really, answering a question with another is so..."

"If I don't know where here is, how can I answer?"

"All right, I'll give you that one. You are currently being held in a detention facility of an organization known as the Temporal Corps of Shonda"

"Ah, Temporal Corps, as in time travel?"

"Yes. Now, do you know why you are here?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"And what? I didn't come here of my own free will, so you know why I'm here and I know why I'm here, cut to the chase."

"Very well. You...Mister Abernathy..."

"John, please."

"Very well. John, you have been brought here because you are in violation of at least six rules of the Temporal Proclamation of 6581."

"Really? 6581? You do know what time period I come from?"

"Yes, you are from time period 6, standard zone 6676."

"Ah, different delineation, proceed."

"That's it."

"You do know that where I am from we never heard of the Temporal Corps of Shonda or the proclamation of 6581?"

"We do."

"But you are still holding me to them?"

"Yes."

"Sounds fair, doesn't it?"

"Is life fair?"

"Good point. So what now?"

Silence floated down into the room once again. John shrugged, reached for the glass on the wall, grabbed it and took a drink. He refilled it from the pitcher and placed the glass back atop the wall. The silence continued.

"John?" the voice returned sometime later.

"Yes?"

"We have reviewed what you have done and although you didn't know you were breaking any temporal laws, we feel the Corps will have to set things right."

"Uh, right? You mean to undo what I did?"

"Yes."

"I see, even if it means doing so you will cause the deaths of billions of humans?"

"That is not established."

"What? In one case, what I did, restored the human race. In another, I stopped the untold suffering of millions. I returned those lives that you will now so blithely take away."

Silence. This time it continued for a long time. The table slid back into the floor only to return with food. This happened twice before John lies down and went to sleep.

"John?"

"What? What do you want now?"

"We have a conundrum."

"Do you?"

"Yes. It would seem that you are... were correct and what you did saved a great many lives..."

"Billions," John said softly.

"...billions of lives, yes," the voice agreed.

"So, what is your conundrum?"

"What to do with you?"

"I obviously have at least two more lives to live. Do I save lives by living them?"

Silence once again filled the chamber. John shrugged his shoulders. The table appeared out of the floor once again a tray of food on its surface. John ate and the table disappeared, only to reappear again with a pitcher of water. John filled his glass and drank, then lay down staring up into the distance.

The table appeared two more times with food and water. John ate and drank always placing a full glass on the wall behind his cot. Soon he was too tired to remain awake and drifted off to sleep.

John was riding down an interstate, blocked with wrecks, in a humvee. Looking to his left, he saw Waylon gripping the wheel as he negotiated the road ahead. Grunting as the hummer bounced over a small piece of wreckage, John looked in the back seat. Michelle was there smiling back at him.

Suddenly, Waylon was braking. There was a barricade across the road ahead of them. Waylon and John jumped out of the hummer once it had stopped. Michelle started to follow them, but John stopped her.

"Stay here," John told her as Waylon started forward, rifle up and pointed at the barricade.

Following, John looked down the barrel of his M4 as he crept down the other side of the road toward the barricade. Then a dog, Rudy, flashed by him headed for whatever was behind the barricade. Shouting, cussing and screaming were soon heard over the snarls and growls of the large black dog. Peeking around the corner of the barricade, John saw six men, gathered around a kicking and screaming girl. Two of them opened fire just missing John who backed up behind the end of the barricade. As John started forward again, another dog flashed past him.

Looking around the barricade again, John started firing, then he saw one of them with his pants around his ankles. Waylon to John's left also started firing into the crowd of men. Rudy flashed in, grabbing the collar of the coat on a young girl in the group of men as Sunny caused them to scatter and dragged her around the left side of the barricade. Sunny's attention was now divided between two men on the ground. Waylon was firing so fast that John thought he had his M4 on auto-fire. Within minutes, all the men were down, motionless. The last John saw of Rudy, was as he dragging another, younger, girl around the left end of the barricade.

Waylon and John checked the rest of those behind the barricade, none survived. John, leading Waylon around the left end of the barricade, found Michelle kneeling beside the two girls.

Suddenly, John's vision started to blur and go dark.

"John," the voice said loudly.

"What?" John said groggily sitting up in his cot. "Fuck my head hurts."

"On the table, you will find analgesics with the water," the voice said softly.

Sitting up, John took the pills on the table and swallowed them.

"What did you do to me?"

"We're sorry, we had to be sure, we used a mind probe on you. It will cause no permanent damage."

"Son of a bitch. Did you get what you were after?"

"Yes, part of..."

"What?"

"We were only able to retrieve part of one of your lives. Sorry. You are very...strong."

Taking a deep drink, John filled the glass again, placing it on the wall. The table dropped down into the floor, only to rise again with a tray of food.

"Well, at least you're keeping me fed. I will need exercise at some point unless you release me to live out my other two lives."

Silence fell once more in the little white room. John ate and lay down on his cot with a disgusted scowl on his face. He was determined not to fall asleep for as long as he could. However, a little while later, he felt himself relax. Shaking his head, he swore at himself. The pills had not only relieved his pain, but there were probably sedatives in them also. He felt so relaxed that he couldn't will his body to rise. His eyes drooped until they closed and he fell into the blackness of unconsciousness.

The street was wet with the light drizzle falling from the sky. John watched the house across the street with intensity. Michelle, sitting beside him, watched John. She was not frightened of him, but she was wary of him, a little. Having known him a long time she knew he wouldn't hurt her, but the fantastic things he had told her and Susan, well they were unbelievable. Yet she believed him, as did Susan. It was a funny feeling when she read a letter, in her own handwriting, from the future telling her to believe him and to help him.

A car was pulling into the parking space in front of the house they were watching. Two men exited the car and walked up the cement walk to the front door. They were both inside quickly. John, hefting his rifle looked at Michelle and opened his door.

"You leave. Don't stick around, don't drive by, just go. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Michelle whimpered to herself. She would miss this man sitting beside her. He had helped her so much with her daughter and her friends.

John stepped out of the car closing the door softly. Turning he looked into the car at Michelle and saw the tears running down her cheeks. Nodding slightly, he turned and walked across the quiet street. Michelle sat, watching him approach the door. Turning he looked at her, waving for her to leave. Tears filling her eyes, she started her car and drove away, down the street.

At the first corner she turned around and drove back to the house John was going to enter. Pulling quietly into the space she had just vacated, she saw the front door of the house standing open. Watching intently, she saw flashes and heard the gunfire from within the house. It was then that she felt the touch, almost like a feather on her neck. Then a voice in her head almost shouted, "Drive away."

Nodding, Michelle started the car again and drove away. Looking in the rearview mirror, she saw the flicker of flames as they started to consume the house John had entered.

John woke once more with a splitting headache this time. His head hurt so much this time, his stomach was very upset. Opening his eyes he almost passed out from the pain this caused to explode in his head. John heard what he thought might be a door open. Then a hand was pushing up the sleeve on his left arm. The prick of the needle being pushed into his skin was barely noticeable. The pain was suddenly and miraculously gone. He attempted to sit, but a force not unlike a broad strap held him in place. Opening his eyes, he saw the back of a man exit the door in the ceiling of his cell some fifteen feet up. Crap, so that's where it was.

Within minutes, his eyes were once again drooping closed and he was in the darkness of sleep.

Waking, John hesitated to move his head. He hadn't liked the pain from the previous day and sure as hell didn't want to experience it again. Slowly, he opened his eyes and was surprised there was no pain. Shutting them again, he reviewed what he had dreamed the last time he had slept. He knew they weren't real dreams. Somehow, they were pulling his memories of past lives out of his brain and it caused tremendous pain.

"John," the voice spoke softly, "I know you are awake. Breakfast is waiting and I would like to talk to you some more."

John brought his hands to his face scrubbing vigorously. Then he caught a whiff of his breakfast waiting and suddenly was hungry. Sitting up, he started to eat. He gave no thought that the food might be drugged if it was there was nothing he could do about it and if it wasn't he would waste good food. When he was finished, the table dropped back into the floor to reappear with a pitcher of water. Standing, he took the pitcher to where his glass stood on top of the short wall. Taking the glass, he poured the water that was in it, into the sink. Pouring himself fresh water, he drank deeply. Smiling, he placed both the pitcher and the glass atop the wall. The table slid back into the floor.

"Okay, what would you like to talk about?" John queried the room.

"What do you remember of the information we extracted from you yesterday?"

"All of it."

"How is it that you have memories of other people?"

"You're asking me?"

"Yes."

"You're asking the wrong person. I'm not a temporal physicist."

"I have asked them, they have been unable to give me a plausible answer."

"It must be one of those great mysteries of the universe," John chuckled.

Silence once again settled in the room. John nodded, then slowly lay down on the cot.

John was lying in a hospital bed. The bright sunshine streaming through the window high on the wall flooded the room. The door opened and in walked Susan dressed in her doctor's coat, her stethoscope draped around her neck. She smiled when she saw John was awake.

"Good morning," she said cheerfully, taking her stethoscope from around her neck.

"Morning," John mumbled. He really didn't feel well and was glad to be under Susan's care.

Pressing the instrument to his chest, Susan listened to John's heartbeat. It was weak and thready. She was very worried about him. As she listened to his heart, she ran through the events of the past several days. First, John showed up, skulking around in the woods behind Michelle's house. Second, the President and Vice President were assassinated. Third, John had called for help. Forth, now he was here, in the hospital.

"How am I doing?"

"You are just f... not well John, not well at all," Susan answered honestly.

"It's the temporal inconsistencies."

"The what?"

"The temporal inconsistencies, I'm still here and I shouldn't. This device," John said holding up his finger with the glowing ring, "is holding me here. If I were to take this off, I would cease to exist as the future timeline has changed somewhat. Not quite as much as we had in mind, but some."

Susan just nodded as she held John's wrist in her hand, fingers on the pulse point. A commotion from the hall startled her. Three men in dark suits burst into the room.

"John Abernathy?" the tallest asked.

Susan's shoulders sagged, she knew this was going to happen, just not this soon. She had hoped that John would be a lot more rested and stronger before his arrest.

"I'm John Abernathy," John said softly.

"You will have to come with us," the tall one said.

"Who are you?" Susan asked placing herself between John and the three men.

"I'm Agent Peters of the FBI. If you will stand aside..."

"I will not. You may post men outside his room, but Mister Abernathy is in no shape to travel, anywhere."

"Who are you, Ma'am?"

"Doctor Susan Reynolds, I am Mister Abernathy's physician."

"Doctor, I will be taking Mister Abernathy with me, you are free to tag along..."

"Tag along?" Susan shouted. "I will not "tag along" as you say. Mister Abernathy is under my care. He will not be moved until I say so."

"I have an arrest warrant," Agent Peter's argued.

"And I have the law. You may not move this man until I say so."

"Says you," Peter said disgustedly.

"No, say I," a new voice said from behind the men.

Spinning, Agent Peters confronted a tall man in a suit and a man draped in judges robes.

"Who are you?" Peters asked.

"I am Carl Nelson, I am Mister Abernathy's attorney. This man next to me is Judge Steven Kline of the Fifth District Federal Court, he has some papers for you."

Stepping forward the Judge handed Agent Peters a sheaf of papers.

"This is my order prohibiting you from moving this patient until such time as his doctors release him into your custody."

"This is preposterous," Peters shouted.

"I would vacate this room, unless you would like to be held in contempt of court, Agent," Judge Kline said softly.

Peters' mouth opened, then closed, then opened and closed again. Looking from the Judge to Susan, he grunted and strode from the room.

John lay on his cot, every bone in his body aching. Not wanting to move he lay still as he could, swallowing to keep his stomachs contents from crawling up his throat. The noise of the door opening above him was a welcome sound. The cool swipe of the alcohol soaked cotton ball and then the prick of the needle at the end of the syringe was a welcome surprise. The numbing effect of the drug flowing through his veins brought a feeling of soothing relief.

"You will sleep again, John. Then you will wake without any pain," the voice said.

Opening his eyes, he once again saw the back of the man who had given him the injection as he walked up the wall and out the door in the ceiling. Closing his eyes, John was soon asleep.