The life and times of Lafayette Ryder

Pain beyond any and all description consumes my mind and body for a hellishly long moment as my pistol fires a lead slug that penetrates my lower jaw and speeds up to, straight through, and right out of my brain. I blink once and begin to slump backwards.

“I’m sorry.” the unspoken words hang loose one my lips as the sweet, merciful embrace of death covers my mortal body and whisks my soul away to the heavens above.

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“Get up ya dirty Shisno.” A familiar voice orders me.

I open my eyes warily and look around me; every which way I gaze I see nothing but the abandoned, decaying, and in several cases burning husks of long neglected buildings and homes. Based on my surroundings I’m either in hell or Detroit. To be honest I’d rather be in hell.

“Are you up yet?” the voice asks again and I feel something hard jab me in the ribs.

“Where am I?” I groan.

“Hell, where did you think you’d end up at?”

I swear under my breath and sit up.

“Over here.” the voice calls before I can even start to look around for it.

“Who-” I turn around and discover an old man standing in front of me and he looks just like… “I am so goddamn sick of meeting alternate versions of myself.” I say to the elderly me.

“And I’m not too happy to be seeing you either,” he says as he kneels down next to me, “I take it you fucked up pretty badly.”

“You can say that again,” I say as I stand up, “I let everyone die…” tears begin to flow but stop when the old man cuffs me on the head.

“Well there’s no use bawling about it now is there?” he asks.

“I guess not.” I admit.

“But you know what would be useful to do?” he asks.

“What?” I grumble.

“Fix it,” he orders, ‘just like you promised Dulcie you would.”

“How?” I ask him. “I’m dead if you haven’t noticed.” I receive another smack and the old man glares at me.

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“Would you rather,” he slaps me again, “dammit!”

“Don’t be a dumbass either!” he commands.

“Fine, fine,” I tell him, “but I still don’t know what to do.”

“Fix this mess you’ve gotten yourself into!”

“I know that!” I yell. “I just don’t know how to fix it.”

The old version of myself starts to walk away and I begin to chase after him; for an old man he’s pretty spry.

“Hey!” I shout when I finally catch up to him.

“What?” he asks.

“How can I fix this?”

“Simple,” he says, “go and get you mind un-fucked up and then use that fancy dancy time reversal bullshit to stop the Orcs from gang raping your ass and then go and save the others.”

“Uh…” I hold my hands up and shrug my shoulders. “And how the fuck do I do that!?”

“For fuck’s sake!” the old man turns and pokes me in the chest with a wizened and palsied finger. “Do I need to hold your goddamn hand and walk you through it?”

“Yes,” I respond, “that would be nice.”

“Jesus Christ help me!” the old man backhands me across the cheek. “Are you really too brain dead to figure this out for yourself?”

I stare at him for a good minute. “Apparently.”

“Fuck me,” he whispers, “fuck me and fuck everything!” he yells the last bit.

“So how do I fix this?” I ask yet again.

“Fine!” he shouts in frustration. “I’ll tell you how to fix this.” He grabs my shoulders with his shaking hands and looks me in the eyes. “You need to go find each of the personalities that have abandoned your mind and reconcile with them.”

“Uh…” I babble stupidly.

“Find the living counterparts to each of your mindsets and talk with them, once you’ve done that your mind will return to it’s natural state, the way it should be, and you can go back and fix everything!” he explains.

“Why can’t I just go back an-” I try to put forth my own idea but he interrupts me.

“You can’t do that because all you have left in that thick skull of yours,” he boxes my left ear for emphasis, “is that damn depressive personality and if you go back with just that governing your thoughts you’ll put a bullet in your head before you can even save your family.”

“I already did that,” I tell him, “that’s how I got here.”

“Oh...” He sounds surprised. “Shit.”

“Yep.” I agree.

We stand there for a few minutes just looking at our shoes awkwardly.

“Did it hurt?” he asks suddenly.

“Like a sonuvabitch,” I tell him, “but just for a second.”

“Huh.” He mutters.

“So how’d you kick it?” I ask.

“My mind started going pretty bad so I told my family goodbye and overdosed on some morphine, pot, and cyanide.”

“Huh.” I murmur. “Wait, you can’t O.D. on weed.”

“No but it sure makes you feel good as you O.D. on the other shit.” He explains.

“Ah, I getcha.” I reply.

We stand in silence for a bit longer.

“So all I have to do is go talk to them, my other personalities I mean, and that’s it?”

“Just about,” he says, “with each one you chat with the part of you that should remain in your mind will return while the rest stays as them.”

“What about Jeffery?” I ask. “I killed him.

“Go back in time to before that and talk to him.”

“Ok… well bye I guess.” I tell him.

“Bye.” He responds.

I start to walk away but a few stray thoughts stop me and I turn back around.

“So you’re me from the future?” I ask just to double check.

“From an alternate future.” He says.

“Hmm, what alternate future?”

“The one where you stay on Earth and things go as they should have.”

“Ahh.” I nod my head. “So why are you in hell? God really hate us or something?”

“Just serving a few decades for all the shit I’ve pulled in my time.” He tells me.

“What?” I ask.

“No one stays in hell forever,” he explains, “you just serve a sentence here that punishes you for all of your deliberate sins, once you’ve done that you get your wings and your halo and your harp and you’re free to head up to Heaven.”

“Cool,” I say, “how many years do I rack up?”

“One million, seven hundred thousand and forty two years, sixteen days, eleven hours, five minutes, and three seconds.” He admits.

“Holy shit.” I swear at the obscenely large number.

“Yep.”

“Well I’d better be going now.” I say as I back away.

“You do that.” He tells me.

I turn to leave only to realize that I don’t even know how to get out of here.

“Hey,” I look back to ask the older me but he’s not there anymore and neither is the hellish landscape that had been surrounding me, instead a field full of Orc corpses near Haven is in its place.

“What the fuck.” I mumble as I look around me at the fallen warriors and the bodies of my family and friends.

“I WILL FIX THIS!” I shout, scaring away ravens and a few vultures by doing so. “I promised I would,” I lower my voice, “and I’ll be damned if anything stops me.”

I trudge away from the battlefield with a determined mindset. Time is paused and my body is healed.

First personality up: Dallas.