Rain fell in sheets over Red Rock.
Jake Mercer stood at the edge of the woods, clea
ts sinking into mud, staring at the shimmer in t
he air. It looked like heat rising off asphalt—b
ut it wasn’t hot. It was cold. Wrong.
"Mercer!"
He turned. Coach's voice cracked through the sto
rm. "You're up. Get your ass on the
field."
Jake nodded, but didn’t move. The shimmer pulsed
. Like it was breathing.
"Go!"
He ran.
By the time he reached the field, the shimmer wa
s gone.
But the feeling stayed.
Two weeks later, he saw it again.
This time, near the old rail line. Same place Da
d disappeared in ’44. Same place they found the
car, radio still playing jazz, but no body.
Jake stepped closer.
The air rippled.
A man in a leather jacket walked out. Same face.
Same scar above the brow. But older. Harder.
"You're still alive?" the stranger said.
Jake took a step back. "Who the hell are
you?"
"Jake Mercer," the man said. "But
from another w
orld. One where your dad didn't come back. Where
I took his place. Built his company. Became the
man he wanted you to be."
Jake’s throat went dry.
"You're not supposed to exist."
The Mercers were local legends.
Oil, steel, railroads. Jake’s greatgrandfather b
uilt the town. His dad vanished in the war. Jake
was supposed to take over.
But he wanted the field more than the boardroom.
Now that version of himself was real.
And he had a gun.
"You have to shut the rift," the other
Jake said
. "It's not just us. There are dozens.
Hundreds.
Worlds colliding. Wars over who gets to be real
."
Jake stared at the weapon. "And you kill
them?"
"Protect the timeline."
"You mean protect your timeline."
"I didn’t come here to fight," the man said.
He holstered the gun.
"I came to warn you. The Cold War’s gone hot. In
my world, the rifts started with the Soviets. T
hey found a way to weaponize them. Now they’re t
argeting every version of you."
Jake blinked.
"My father vanished in the war. You’re saying he
’s alive somewhere?"
"In some worlds. Dead in others. But here? You’r
e the keystone. If you die, the rifts collapse.
If you live, they spread."
Jake’s stomach twisted.
"So what do I do?"
They walked to the edge of town.
"To close the rift, you have to go through,
" the
other Jake said. "Find the origin point. Stop i
t before it starts."
"You mean kill it."
"I mean sacrifice it."
Jake looked at the shimmer again.
"How do I know I won’t just disappear?"
"You don’t."
His mom waited on the porch.
Jake told her he had a game. She smiled, waved h
im off.
He didn’t tell her he might not come back.
He never could.
She still believed he was the boy who’d grow up
to run the company. The one who’d keep her safe.
He wasn’t that boy.
But maybe he could be.
In another world.
The rift opened wider this time.
Jake stepped in.
Cold. Then heat. Then silence.
He landed in a hallway. Steel walls. A war room.
Maps on the wall. WWII posters. A ticker tape o
f dead names.
A man sat at a desk.
Same face. Younger.
"Welcome," he said. "You’re not
the first."
Jake pulled the trigger.
The world cracked.
Light spilled through the seams.
Dozens of Jakes stood in the void, each holding
a piece of the truth.
Some were billionaires. Some were soldiers. One
was a janitor in a lab. Another, a priest.
One had never left Red Rock.
They all stared at him.
"You're the first to come this far,
" said the pr
iest.
Jake lowered his gun.
"Why are we here?"
The priest smiled.
"Because we all had to choose."
Jake stood before the core.
A pulsing sphere of light. It held every version
of him. Every decision. Every life.
"If I destroy it," Jake said, "we
all die."
The priest nodded. "Or we all live. In one world
. One truth."
Jake stepped closer.
The core pulsed. He saw his mom. His team. The f
ield. The rain. The shimmer.
He saw her again.
Lena. The girl who never believed in fate.
He smiled.
"Then let me be the last one."
He reached out.
Rain fell in sheets over Red Rock.
Jake Mercer stood at the edge of the woods, clea
ts sinking into mud, staring at the shimmer in t
he air.
It looked like heat rising off asphalt—but it wa
sn’t hot. It was cold. Wrong.
"Mercer!"
He turned. Coach's voice cracked through the sto
rm. "You're up. Get your ass on the
field."
Jake nodded, and ran.
He didn’t look back.
The shimmer faded.
Forever.
