Chapter 3 - Crazy Train

“That was weird.”

Cara put down the headset.

“I could have sworn that guy was shot in the shoulder. Not hit in the head with…what did they call it?…a boarding pike?”

She had just rewatched the scene involving her namesake ship, the Caroline. She expected her perspective might be a little changed since she decided to view the events from another angle this time. But she couldn’t figure out why the events seemed to play out differently.

“I wonder if this thing just guesses on details it doesn’t have and fills in the gaps? If it does…maybe it just guessed differently this time?”

She put her hand to her chin.

“That’s never happened before though. No matter how many times I’ve simulated a scene they always played out identically each time. Ugh…why didn’t you leave a manual or something dad?”

She banged her head on her desk.

“Well, whatever. Maybe I’m just tired. I am talking to myself again…”

She stood and got ready for bed after a quick meal. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she remembered she only had a scone in the last twenty four hours. Then again, forgetting to eat because she was too engrossed in her work was pretty much normal at this point.

After a somewhat restless and confused sleep, fretting over the first Alex who ghosted her and the odd appearance of a second who looked completely different, she got up the next morning and spent the better part of her day planning out her next manuscript.

“Oh crap, the time!”

Cara glanced at her watch and realized it was almost time to see Alex the second, as she mentally referred to him.

She looked around for shoes and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

Hair in a messy bun. A shirt that doubled as a sleep top more often than not. And some sweat pants that may or may not have originally been a single colour but certainly weren’t any longer.

“This is fine. Right?” She asked her mirror self.

A thought struck her.

“Emily called this a date. Is this a date?!”

She quickly dove into her closet trying to find something that would work. Something clean at least was a start.

“Ugh…what works for a date and a not date if I’m wrong?”

She settled on a mid length blue skirt and an aqua tank top, throwing a black leather jacket over it along with some matching calf length boots.

“There! Totally not trying too hard, but I can take the jacket off if this is really a date and I want to snazz it up.”

She nodded at mirror self and left for the restaurant.

The place he’d made a reservation at was one she’d passed before, just a few streets over from Emily’s bookshop. A trendy bistro with a fusion twist on cuisine.

She passed by the green wrought iron fencing outside and stepped up to the host’s podium.

“Hi, I’m here to meet someone with a reservation. Should be under Alex.”

The host ran his finger along the tablet screen in front of him searching for the name.

“Could it be under your name?” He asked.

“Oh, um, Cara maybe? Or try his last name. McLeod.”

The finger flicked along the tablet again, but this time his eyes had a sense of sadness only found in someone who had to tell far too many people before that they’ve been stood up.

“I’m sorry miss, but nothing under of that. Do you want to contact your…partner?” Cara could tell he was struggling to find the right label for the person she was looking for.

Cheeks flushed, she pulled out her phone.

“Don’t tell me I got the wrong day! Did he mean tomorrow?” She muttered to herself as she went to her contacts.

“Wait! What?”

No Alex McLeod. No contact info. No texting history.

“Again!”

Her yell made the host flinch and look away awkwardly as she turned and fled the restaurant.

“Please be there.”

Cara hurried a few streets over to the bookshop, thankful when she saw Emily through the window.

“Emily!” Cara burst through the door. “It happened again!!”

Ever the professional, Emily quickly thanked the customer she was finishing with and turned to her friend who had slapped both hands onto the counter and was catching her breath after apparently running here.

“You look dolled up. What’s the occasion?”

“The guy. The one from yesterday. Remember? He wanted to talk about my book and you called it a date! Do you remember?”

“You had date today?”

“No. Well, yes! I was supposed to. At least, maybe it as a date. But he didn’t show.”

“What a creep! Tell me what he looks like, I’ll toss him out next time he comes.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you! You know what he looks like. You introduced us yesterday. Don’t you remember?!” The last part came out in a soft, sad whine.

“You ok Cara?” Emily looked concerned.

“I think I’m going crazy.” She raked her fingers through her hair.

“Then I don’t like having to tell you this, but you didn’t stop by yesterday.”

“What? I was here!”

“I’m…I’m sorry Cara…you weren’t.”

Cara stepped back a couple of paces, like she couldn’t accept what she heard.

“I haven’t seen you since we went out to dinner a couple days ago.”

“Dinner? At that new place?

“Yeah.” Emily seemed happy that at least they were on the same page.

“And you said some black girl faked an Indian accent while giving us some monkey toy with a blue talisman of some kind?” Cara didn’t seem sure of her words, the memory not hers.

Emily’s eyebrow raised. “Um, close. But it was actually an asian dude and he used a really bad Jamaican accent talking about some talisman’s placement or something. And that monkey had something green, not blue.”

“What is going on?” Cara’s hands covered her face.

“You sure you’re ok Cara? Need me to take you somewhere?”

Cara looked around, frantic for escape from the situation. “I…I need to go.” She spun and left before Emily could stop her.

Cara charged down the street not sure where she was going.

“Ok, getting ghosted sucks but it could at least make sense. But why don’t my memories fit with Emily’s? And how are all my text chains disappearing?!”

She fiddled with her phone as she kept walking.

As she strode down the street she stopped as soon as she heard a voice.

“I don’t think you’re quoting that case right.”

Cara looked to her left and saw a sidewalk patio. Sitting there were two women. Students by the look of the textbooks arrayed around them.

A short asian woman with a splash of freckles across her face was chatting with a tall, broad shouldered friend with dirty blonde hair.

“Those are the ones I heard talking before.” Cara told herself.

She stepped closer.

“Excuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt, but did I overhear you two the other day talking about something called the Caroline Incident?”

The girls quickly looked at each other, confirming that neither knew this interloper.

“Uh, maybe. We were here the other day and we have an exam coming up.” It was the girl with freckles who answered, the blonde clearly more shy.

“Can I ask you a question? Does the name Alexander McLeod ring a bell?”

“The guy put on trial for murder?”

“Right! That! Wait…murder? Not assault?”

“Yeah, murder. He bragged he did it but the trial showed he wasn’t there. Though I still think they were lying.” She looked over to her friend like this was a longstanding debate but didn’t pursue it.

Cara tried to think of what she wanted to ask. She wondered if her odd memories were why her historical simulation had changed as well. Was she misremembering? Maybe if she should confirm what really happened.

“And he was shot, right?” Cara asked, remembering her first viewing of the events.

“Well, no one was sure but he probably got bonked on the head and fell in the water.”

“Not shot? So…was it with something called a boarding pike?”

“Wow, how did you know? Are you in our class?”

“Um, no…but…thanks.”

Unsure how to finish the conversation, unsure why she had bothered asking, Cara sheepishly waved and turned to leave.

But she immediately crashed into someone and spilt his drink all over him.

“Ah! Sorry!”

She grabbed a napkin off the table and tried to wipe off the splash that had mostly landed on his brown leather jacket. Flustered, she eventually looked up and saw the man’s piercing green eyes.

“It’s ok.” He said kindly. “My fault for sneaking up on you.”

He scratched the back of his head, ruffling his red hair as he spoke.  The gesture oddly familiar.

“I actually heard you talking about my ancestor and I wanted to join in.”

Cara’s eyes went wide.

“Oh my God! You’re Alex aren’t you? Alexander McLeod?!”