Author's Note:
Hey guys, just wanted to say, for anyone who is confused why this story is in their library and they do not remember it, the reason is im in a sense, rebooting this fic. I've rewritten it and adjusted the direction of the story, and now im going to start writing it again from the start. Hope y'all enjoy!
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The alarm went off at 6:30 in the morning.
Matthias Reinhardt slapped at his nightstand without opening his eyes.
His hand found a book.
Then his phone charger.
Then the edge of a half-empty glass of water that rocked dangerously close to spilling before he caught it.
The alarm kept screaming.
"Jesus Christ."
He finally found the clock and smacked the button hard enough to make the plastic casing creak.
Silence, sweet, sweet, silence.
Matthias sank back into the mattress and dragged one hand down his face. His mouth tasted like stale beer, his head pounded something fierce, and sunlight was already pushing through the narrow gap between his curtains directly into his eyes.
He turned his head away from it.
'Four hours of sleep, seriously.'
The red numbers on the clock confirmed it.
6:31 am.
"Fantastic."
Samuel, that bastard, had promised just one drink.
One.
Matthias should have known better.
He stared at the ceiling for another few seconds before forcing himself upright. His lower back immediately objected.
"Ah, fuck."
He pressed a knuckle into the muscle just above his right hip and leaned forward until something popped.
Years had passed since the hit that ended his freshman football season, but every now and then his body enjoyed reminding him that a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound linebacker had once folded him backward in a way the human spine had never been designed to.
Matthias planted his bare feet on the hardwood floor.
His bedroom looked just about how he felt.
A pair of jeans lay across the desk chair beneath two button-down shirts he had rejected the night before. Books were stacked on nearly every flat surface available, with several more open beside his laptop. A legal pad covered in handwritten notes had somehow found its way onto the floor.
He found a clean shirt, shocker, some running shorts, and his shoes, then stopped at the doorway when his phone buzzed on the nightstand.
He went back for it.
A message from his mother.
[Viel Glück heute. Ruf uns danach an. Dein Vater tut so, als wäre er nicht nervös für dich.]
Matthias smiled despite himself.
Good luck today. Call us afterward. Your father is pretending he isn't nervous for you.
He typed back.
[Ich rufe später an. Schlafen gehen. Es ist viel zu früh für euch.]
I'll call you later. Go to sleep, it's too early for you to be up.
He hesitated, then added:
[Hab dich lieb.]
I love you.
The reply came almost immediately.
[Wir dich auch.]
We love you too.
Matthias shook his head.
"Of course you're already awake."
It was early afternoon in Germany, but complaining about his mother's sleep schedule had become habit years ago, and now she just flat out ignored his complaints.
He shoved the phone into his pocket and headed downstairs.
Outside, Austin was already warm.
Not hot yet. But knowing that Texas sun, it was only a matter of time.
His shoes struck concrete in a steady rhythm as he began his morning run.
A sprinkler hissed over someone's lawn, catching the sunlight in brief flashes. Somewhere nearby, bacon was frying. A dog behind a wooden fence barked twice as Matthias passed, received no answer, then lost interest.
He turned onto the next street.
An ambulance shot through the intersection ahead of him.
Matthias slowed enough to watch it disappear around the corner.
The siren faded.
He shurgged then got back to running.
Three blocks later, another ambulance passed.
Then a police cruiser.
Matthias pulled one earbud out.
A helicopter moved somewhere above the city, too distant to see clearly between the roofs and trees.
'Busy morning,' he thought, wiping sweat from his brow with his forearm.
A woman standing outside a convenience store was speaking rapidly into her phone. Matthias only caught pieces as he passed.
"...wouldn't stop bleeding... no, they said not to..."
Looking through the window, he saw the TV playing some news coverage.
A shaky aerial shot of a highway somewhere, several police cars, people running across lanes between stopped vehicles.
The captions were too small to read from outside.
Matthias thought nothing of it and kept moving.
He had gone another hundred yards before he heard someone yelling behind him.
He glanced back.
An older man was sitting against a brick wall beside the convenience store. Matthias couldn't tell if he'd been there when he passed the first time. A young woman had crouched several feet from him, one hand extended, the other holding her phone.
The man looked sick.
His shirt was soaked dark around the collar.
Matthias slowed.
"Sir?"
The woman looked up.
"I called an ambulance."
Matthias watched the man for another second.
His head hung forward. One hand rested limp against the pavement.
The woman shifted closer.
"Sir, can you hear me?"
Another siren wailed somewhere in the distance.
Matthias looked toward it, then back at the woman.
"You good?"
"Yeah. I think so."
Matthias nodded once.
"Don't get too close if he's sick."
She gave him a look that screamed, 'no duh, idiot.'
Matthias resumed his run.
By the time he reached his house twenty minutes later, the Texas sun had fully cleared the rooftops, and his shirt was stuck to his back.
The familiar feeling of swampass beginning to appear as well.
He slowed to a walk in the driveway, breathing through his nose.
Then he stopped.
His front door was unlocked.
Matthias stared at it.
He distinctly remembered locking it.
He stepped inside.
The smell of coffee reached him first.
Then butter.
Then Samuel's voice from the kitchen.
"Before you say anything, these eggs were approaching their expiration date."
Matthias closed his eyes and pinched his brow ridge.
"Samuel," he groaned out
"Morning," he replied, far too cheery for a man who should be deathly hungover
Matthias walked into the kitchen.
Samuel Cole sat at the island wearing a faded University of Texas shirt and the expression of a man completely at peace with stealing another man's breakfast.
A frying pan sat on the stove.
Four eggs, gone like that.
Matthias pointed toward the front door.
"Why are you in my house?"
Samuel took another bite.
"You gave me a key." he shrugged
"That wasn't the question."
"I woke up early."
"So you came here?" Matthias groaned again
"You own better coffee."
"Well then just buy better coffee."
"Why would I do that when you already did?" Samuel said, his smile obnoxiously large
Matthias stared at him.
Samuel took another bite of eggs and chewed.
As he did, his nostrils flared, and his face morphed into one of disgust.
"Goddamn dude."
"What?"
"You smell horrible."
"I just ran five miles."
"You smell like you ran ten through a sewer."
Matthias reached for Samuel.
Samuel nearly fell off the stool trying to escape.
"Nope. No. Absolutely not."
"Come here."
"Get the fuck away from me."
Matthias laughed and caught him around the shoulders for half a second before Samuel shoved him off.
"You're an asshole, you know that?"
"You broke into my house."
"I used a key."
"One that I regret letting you keep now."
"You gave it to me when you went to Germany last Christmas."
"Yeah, for emergencies."
"I was hungry."
Matthias pointed upstairs.
"Im going upstairs to shower. You better not clean out my pantry while I'm up there."
"No promises~" he sang as he took another forkful of egg
Matthias flipped him off and headed upstairs.
When he returned twenty minutes later, the smell of coffee had permeated throughout the entirety of the house. And Samuel had managed to cook and eat two more eggs.
Matthias stopped in the doorway.
"Dude, you owe me a new dozen eggs, you fucker."
Matthias took the coffee pot and slid a mug over.
He poured himself a cup and leaned against the counter.
Now properly awake, Samuel looked exactly as irritating as usual. Dark hair that never seemed to lie flat. Leaner than Matthias by a considerable margin. Brown eyes that always looked a little too entertained by whatever was happening.
"So," Samuel said. "Ready for judgment day?"
"That's quite dramatic."
"You're submitting three years of work to four people whose entire professional purpose is finding reasons you're wrong."
"Two years."
"Whatever."
"And they're reviewing an academic journal. Not my dissertation."
Samuel lifted both hands.
"My mistake, Doctor Reinhardt."
"Don't call me that."
"Professor Reinhardt?" he asked
"Samuel."
"Ooh, what about... Herr Professor?"
Matthias took a drink.
"I'll kill you."
"There he is." Samuel grinned.
Matthias opened the refrigerator.
He stared inside.
"Did you eat anything else?"
"No."
Matthias looked over his shoulder.
Samuel looked away.
"What else did you eat?"
"Nothing."
"Sam."
There was a pause.
"The bacon was already open."
"You opened it."
"That's a very accusatory interpretation."
Matthias shut the refrigerator.
He heard Samuel laughing behind him.
Matthias grabbed a banana from the counter instead.
His phone buzzed.
Samuel leaned over.
"Mother Reinhardt?"
"My father."
"Tell him I said hello."
"My father thinks you're an idiot."
"He respects me."
"He asked why I spend time with you."
"That's German affection."
Matthias read the message.
[Viel Erfolg. Deine Mutter wird mich wahnsinnig machen, wenn du sie nicht danach anrufst.]
Good luck. Your mother will drive me insane if you don't call her afterward.
Matthias typed a quick response.
Samuel watched him.
"You ever think about going back?"
"What, to Germany?"
"Yeah, I mean, that's where your entire family is after all." Samuel shrugged.
Matthias put his phone down.
"Sometimes."
"But?"
"My work's here."
"Your work can be done in Germany."
"Some of it."
Samuel took another sip of coffee.
"And?"
Matthias looked at him.
Samuel's mouth twitched.
"Nothing."
"No, go ahead."
"I didn't say anything."
"You were about to."
"I wasn't."
"You make a face."
"I have one face."
"You have twelve. That was your Maggie face."
Samuel smiled into his coffee.
Matthias picked up the dish towel and threw it at him.
Samuel caught it against his chest.
"There it is."
"Fuck off."
"You know, it's been—"
"I know how long it's been."
"I wasn't going to say that."
"You were."
"I was going to say it's been a while since I've heard you threaten me before eight in the morning," he replied, a wry smile growing
Matthias turned away.
Samuel watched him open a drawer beneath the counter, searching for the folder containing the final printed copy of his work.
"You put it on your desk last night."
"No, I didn't. I distinctly remember bringing it downstairs, and my memory has never failed me."
"You were drunk, Matt. Your memory always fails you when you drink"
Matthias looked away for a moment, scratching his head before muttering, "I wasn't that drunk."
"You spent ten minutes explaining why the Holy Roman Empire wasn't actually—"
"It wasn't," he interrupted, already knowing what Samuel was going to say.
Matthias opened another drawer.
"Help me find the folder."
Samuel slid off the stool.
They moved through the living room.
Matthias checked beneath two books on the coffee table.
Samuel checked the cabinet beside the television, then a stack of papers near the bookshelf.
"Why do you own this much shit?" Samuel asked.
"They're books."
"Nobody needs this many books."
"You study history as well, dipshit. What do you use for your reference material?"
"I use libraries."
"Dirty Communist," Matthias said, holding back his laugh
Samuel snorted.
He moved another pile and stopped.
"Well, look what we have here."
Matthias looked over.
Samuel was holding a photograph.
Matthias's hand stopped halfway toward another book.
The photograph had been taken in Georgia years ago.
Matthias looked younger. Cleaner. His hair was shorter.
Maggie stood beside him in worn jeans and a white shirt, one arm around his waist, her cheek pressed against his chest because even then he'd been too damn tall for most photographs to frame properly.
They were both smiling.
Not that fake posing shit photographers have you do.
But real, genuine smiling.
Matthias walked over and took the picture from Samuel.
"Where was that?" he asked, his tone more measured
"The farm," Matthias grunted
Samuel nodded.
"Still got that, huh?"
Matthias slid the photograph back between two books.
"Apparently."
"Matt—"
"Don't," Matthias said, pointing his finger at Samuel, ending the conversation.
Samuel raised one hand.
"Wasn't gonna."
Matthias looked at him.
Samuel held his gaze for a second, then pointed toward the desk.
"Your folder's under the laptop."
Matthias turned.
He exhaled through his nose.
"Didn't see it."
"Clearly."
Matthias grabbed it.
Samuel's eyes drifted upward.
"Still can't believe you bought that thing."
Matthias followed his gaze.
The messer hung above the bookshelf.
"Here we go."
"I'm serious. What'd you pay for it?"
"You know exactly what I paid."
"I want to hear you admit it."
"No."
Samuel walked over and reached toward the scabbard.
Matthias slapped his hand away.
"Don't touch, god knows what kind of damage you'll do to this house, or even yourself swinging that thing around, it's sharp, Sam."
"I've held it before." Sam muttered
Matthias looked at him incredulously, recalling the last time he 'held' the messer. "You nearly dropped it, almost slicing your foot off, dumbass."
"I was drunk." he shrugged
"That never helps your case, and somehow you keep using that as a defense."
Samuel looked up at the weapon.
"Still a sword."
"It's a messer."
"Messer means knife."
"Correct."
"That is a sword-sized knife."
"It's more complicated than that."
Samuel turned slowly.
"No, it really isn't."
"Typologically—"
"No." Sam interrupted him
"There are—"
"No."
"Do you want the explanation or not?"
"I would rather listen to you explain the Holy Roman Empire again."
Matthias stared at him.
Samuel grinned.
From outside came the metallic clatter of something hitting concrete.
Then a voice.
"Reinhardt!"
Matthias glanced toward the window.
"Stevens."
They stepped outside.
Walter Stevens stood beside his black pickup, wearing cargo shorts, boots, and an old Marine Corps shirt faded nearly gray. He had a hose in one hand and a coffee mug balanced on the truck's hood.
At seventy, Stevens still carried himself straighter than most men half his age.
He squinted at Samuel.
"Morning, thief."
Samuel stopped.
"Why does everyone call me that?"
Stevens pointed the hose toward Matthias's house.
"Saw you let yourself in earlier this mornin'."
"I have a key."
"So do burglars if they're good enough."
Samuel looked at Matthias.
"You people deserve each other, you know that?"
Stevens chuckled.
"You still coming Saturday?"
Matthias nodded.
"If this meeting doesn't make me walk into traffic."
"Bring your rifle."
"I was planning to."
"Clean it first."
"Oh come on, Stevens, you know I've cleaned it already and made sure it's in tip-top shape."
Stevens narrowed his eyes.
Matthias sighed.
"I'll clean it again."
"Good man." he nodded
Samuel folded his arms.
"You know he only listens to you because you're old, right?"
Stevens looked him over.
"Boy shoots better than you."
"I've never shot with you."
"Exactly."
Samuel blinked.
Matthias laughed then slapped Samuel on his shoulder. "Come on. We're going to be late."
They left Stevens washing his truck and climbed into Samuel's battered Honda.
The air conditioner coughed warm air into Matthias's face for the first thirty seconds.
"I will never get used to this... luxurious vehicle," he muttered.
"You can walk."
"I should honestly. I'm getting choked out over here."
"Then get out."
Matthias reached for the radio.
Samuel slapped his hand away.
"Driver picks."
"You listen to garbage."
"You listen to German metal."
"Some of it's Swedish."
"That doesn't help."
Samuel switched stations.
Music filled the car for a few minutes while they moved toward campus.
Traffic was heavier than usual.
At the next intersection, two police cars cut through against the light.
Samuel watched them pass. "That's like the fourth cop I've seen this morning."
"Crime has existed since civilization began, nothing too crazy."
"Thanks, my oh so great, historian friend." Samuel rolled his eyes
They drove another block.
Samuel changed the station again.
A man's voice replaced the music.
"...officials continue to urge residents not to interfere with emergency personnel as area hospitals report unusually high patient intake. Several violent incidents reported overnight remain under investigation—"
Samuel turned the volume up.
Matthias looked out the passenger window. People were standing in a crowd outside a pharmacy, a huge crowd at that.
"—video circulating online appears to show officers in Dallas firing multiple rounds at an unidentified man who continued advancing despite apparent gunshot wounds. Authorities have not verified the authenticity of the footage."
"Shit man, have you seen that video?" Samuel asked.
"No."
"It's fucked up. They shot the guy seven times."
"Im sure they did," he said, dismissing the claim
He could practically feel Sam burning a hole through the side of his head.
"What do you want me to say?"
"Seven times, dude."
"Drugs. Adrenaline. Bad shooting. Fake video. The list goes on, man, just pick one."
Samuel shook his head.
"You have no sense of wonder."
"I'm hungover and German, what do you expect?"
They stopped at another red light.
Matthias's phone buzzed.
His father again.
[Ruf an, wenn du fertig bist.]
Call when you're finished.
Matthias started typing.
The light changed, and before a second even passed, a horn sounded behind them.
Samuel accelerated.
Matthias stopped typing and slid the phone back into his pocket.
"Your dad?"
"Yeah."
"You gonna call?"
"Yeah, probably after the meeting."
As they pulled up near campus, he couldn't help but get a weird feeling in the back of his mind, like something was off and he couldn't quite tell what it was.
For starters, there were far too many security vehicles.
And way too many people standing still.
Students clustered in small groups along the sidewalks, several watching something on their phones. A woman hurried past them crying while trying to make a call.
Samuel slowed.
"Okay," he trailed
Matthias looked around.
"Still think it's internet bullshit?"
"I think something happened."
"Oh, thank God. Progress." Samuel exaggerated, throwing his hands up in mock celebration
They soon crossed toward the history building.
Halfway there, Matthias heard someone say the hospital was locked down.
Another person said someone had attacked a nurse.
Someone else said classes were being canceled.
By the time Matthias reached his meeting, his adviser was standing in the hallway arguing on the phone.
"Professor Hall?"
Hall held up one finger.
"No, I'm telling you, she's at school. I can't—Susan, slow down."
His face tightened.
"What do you mean she bit him?"
Matthias and Samuel exchanged a look.
Professor Hall turned away.
Matthias waited.
Two minutes later, the overhead speakers crackled.
A woman's voice filled the corridor.
"Attention. All remaining classes and university activities are canceled effective immediately. Students, faculty and staff are advised to leave campus in an orderly manner and return to their residences. Additional information will be distributed as it becomes available."
Doors opened throughout the hallway as it became full of chatter and worried voices wondering what was going on.
Professor Hall lowered his phone.
"Matthias, we're going to have to reschedule."
"Yeah, I can see that. Do you have any idea what's going on, Professor?" He asked, only to be shut down immediately
"Matthias, I honestly have no clue, but it would be best for you to go home for now."
Matthias tucked the folder beneath his arm.
Professor Hall was already dialing again.
Samuel met him at the stairwell.
"So much for judgment day."
They joined the flow heading outside.
By the time they reached the parking lot, sirens were coming from several directions.
Then somebody screamed.
People turned.
Across the street, two campus officers stood near a man in a blood-soaked shirt.
The man stumbled toward them.
One officer had his pistol drawn.
"Sir! Stop!" he ordered, much to no avail
The man kept coming.
His left arm hung strangely at his side.
"Stop right there!"
Nothing.
Students gathered despite themselves, curiosity holding them in place.
Matthias stopped beside Samuel.
The officer shouted again.
The bloody man lunged.
Three gunshots cracked across the street.
Matthias flinched.
The man jerked backward and hit the pavement.
People screamed and scattered.
Samuel grabbed Matthias's arm.
"Jesus."
The second officer rushed forward.
The first kept his weapon trained on the body.
Matthias couldn't quite make out what they were saying over the sudden noise around him.
Samuel tugged Matthias again.
"Come on, man, shits getting crazy out here."
Matthias didn't move.
The body across the street twitched.
The dead man's fingers scraped against the pavement.
"Matt." Samuel tugged again
"Wait."
One arm shifted beneath the body.
The officer closest to him stepped back.
The man planted his palm against the ground.
Slowly, awkwardly, he began pushing himself upright.
Blood ran from two holes in his chest.
The officer froze.
Samuel's fingers tightened around Matthias's sleeve.
"Matt..."
Matthias stared.
For once, he had nothing to say.