Time Jacker by Aaron Crash (nonfiction book recommendations .TXT) 📕

As for money?

Well, that opened a can of worms. How much of a thieving asshole did he want to be?

It wasn’t like he could go back in time to play the stock market, or bop forward in time. No, he could stop it, and he could interact with things but not people.

Okay, so he was going to be a bit of a thieving asshole as long as he robbed pricks like the Tarringtons. Jack had always liked Robin Hood—steal from the rich and give to the poor. He could give a tithe to his church, like his parents had his entire life. Moms still sent ten percent to charities. Jack had sent the diocese a check the night before for a food drive.

And Jack could help out Pinetree because that bar was always just on the edge of closing. He could help out his mom and aunt since they were old and had money issues and Cousin Eddie was raising their rent.

And Jack wanted a girlfriend. He’d been too busy to date, and that whole online thing was iffy on the best of days. He didn’t come across very well because even assholes with a heart of gold were often just seen as assholes.

Annie would’ve been good. Could still be good. He had to find her. Maybe they wouldn’t fall in love, but there was always the chance. And saving a girl from a demon just might make her sweet on you.

Sitting in your car, looking at a hole in the ground, could clean your mind like very few things on Earth. The sun was heading toward the horizon once his relief came driving up. Jack had made another a hundred and sixty dollars guarding a hole.

His life was as stupid as it was boring.

Not anymore.

First, he’d eat, practice using his power, and check out the bank one more time, or at least the parking lot. Then he’d head off to Hugo’s house. Hugo was vital at this point—he’d given Jack the soldier.

Jack stopped at Señor Chang’s, and he got the General Tso’s nachos and a Coors Light. Coors Light was like beer...if you squinted hard enough. Anyway, he liked how it tasted with nachos. He took his dinner to the bank parking lot. Sunday night, no one was around—well, except across the parking lot a group of tall women trotted out of a big yellow bus. They stopped to stand in front of the Health Power gym. Health Power! HP! Better health and more power for less!

It was ten bucks a month. Jack was a member, but he’d not had enough time to really commit to a workout plan. Again, something else that could change.

Those women looked like some kind of basketball or volleyball team. He wasn’t sure what they were doing at the Health Power on a Sunday night.

He ate the nachos, sitting on his trunk, which more and more had become his usual dining area. He finished eating, finished his beer, and then got to work.

A click to the left, and the world stopped.

After spending the day in the normal flow of time, the Tempus Influunt, his head was clear, and he felt no pain. But there was something in the air, some kind of danger, he could feel. No wind, nothing but silence, in a world put on pause.

He’d been working that day, so he had his pistol in a shoulder holster under his jacket. He pulled it now. He’d shot Horns that one time, and then nothing. Would it work again?

He heard the grumble of something near the Big Boy Café south of the bank. Something was chewing, noisily, and swallowing just as loudly. The sudden noise put a bad feeling in Jack’s gut. Another fucking monster. He was going to find another fucking monster, and he’d have to kill it dead.

He walked around the bank building to see something in the dumpsters behind the Big Boy Café. It was shaking the dumpster, rattling the metal, gulping down garbage, before belching like it had shit itself.

He went forward out of curiosity as much as anything. It was twilight, but a streetlight was just across the asphalt of the parking lot. It would give him enough light to see what was in the dumpster.

Jack stopped himself. It wasn’t any of his business what was over there. It wasn’t bothering him, so why in the fuck should he bother it?

No. He was trying to figure out his weird life. Any piece of information was a clue.

Jack went forward. He wasn’t going to climb into the dumpster, but there was a low cement wall around the trash can. He didn’t spend that much time in the gym, but he was in good enough shape to scramble up onto the wall to get a look inside.

If his first demon had been Horns, this thing was Mouth. It was a huge mouth with big teeth and a red tongue that was covered in a yellow film. That tongue was licking the edges of the dumpster, getting the filth inside. Around the mouth was pink diseased skin, full of pimples and pus. It was licking the dumpster, but it was also eating the garbage there, though eating probably wasn’t the right word. It would gulp down a big chunk of wilted lettuce or congealing gravy, and close its mouth for a minute. Then it would spit it back out, more wilted, more congealed. It was like watching decay in action.

Jack stood on the low wall, blinking. The Mouth monster made him want to puke. He made a disgusted noise.

That was a mistake. The Mouth turned toward him and flung out its tongue.

Jack’s reflexes were working that night. He leapt down, hitting the asphalt but keeping his feet.

Mouth came rolling out of the dumpsters, rolling like a ball, because basically it was a ball with teeth and a tongue.

Jack figured he had one shot. He had