Prelude: God of Chaos

“So where are we going?”

“What’s going on, Mike?”

Mike didn’t look over at Fran, he was focusing on keeping his hands under control.  A shaking hand would be a bad tipoff.  “What do you mean?”

Fran’s voice was light, carefree as always.  “You never ask where we’re going when we take off on one of these adventures.  You ... ‘like the mystery of it.’  But today you’ve already asked three times.”

Mike kept his voice light, but Raisin’s voice was ringing in his ear.

They’ll use someone you know.  Someone you trust.

“I’m just excited.” He said.

Someone you’ll never see coming.

“I’ve never seen you this excited for a trip, and you’ve got me excited now.”  He added.

The person, the ... doppelganger ... will be almost perfect.  There will be no real way to trip them up.

“Well, let’s just let the mystery be for a little while longer, okay?”  Fran’s voice was light and playful.

You’ll just feel it in your gut when you’re around them.  You’ll feel that this person is wrong.

“Sounds good, honey.”  Mike said lightly.

This person you love and trust completely, has been fundamentally changed in some horrible way.

Fran smiled over at him.  It was her smile.

The only problem is, by the time this feeling has convinced you to act, it’ll be too late.

She was exactly the same as always.  Looked the same, acted the same, Hell, even smelled the same.  Her voice was the same.  The things she used her voice to utter were the same.

But Mike’s gut was screaming at him.  Screaming for him to open the door despite their current 55 MPH speed and take his chances rolling around on the pavement rather than spend one more second around this ... this ... woman.

“What are you doing, Mike?”  Fran’s voice was still light and tingly, just like the day she proposed to him.  Yes, she asked him for his hand in marriage.  It was how Fran was.

Mike looked down at his hand, which had of its own volition found the door handle.  His other hand was stroking his seatbelt.  “Wow, you’re jumpy today.”  Mike surprised himself at how light his voice was.

The only problem is, by the time this feeling has convinced you to act, it’ll be too late.

“Take your hand off the door handle, Mike.”  She said.

Mike released his seatbelt while his other hand gripped the door handle harder.  In response Fran sped up their little Ford Torus.

“We’re up to 70, Mike.  And this speed you’ll break every bone in your body.  You’ll scrape all the skin off your face.”  She said.

Mike steeled himself to open the door and take his chances plunging out.

“We’re up to 85, Mike.”  She said.

Mike stared at the harsh pavement racing past them at literally break neck speed.

The only problem is, by the time this feeling has convinced you to act, it’ll be too late.

He released his death grip on the door handle.

“Good boy.”  It said.