Jared raced down the road toward Mac’s place. The police issue V8 interceptor engine roared smoothly as he drove. The car itself, and most of the equipment in it, was anachronism here. But in eight hours and fifty minutes, that wouldn’t matter. He was picking up the signal from the transmitter bullet that Anne had planted. The beacon led him onward, straight toward Mac’s. A scowl marred his features.

This was more than unexpected. It was catastrophic. He had gone from knowing what would happen, to flying blind. Jared had no idea who was in the mustang with Mike Stafford’s son, but he had already demonstrated his hostility. Who could gain something from creating a paradox? And, if he had not restored the paradox now, what was he playing at? Jared’s foot let up on the accelerator suddenly.

"Its a trap."

That’s why the paradox is unique, he thought. It was a type of lure, to draw a stream agent, maybe Jared in particular. In eight hours and forty-seven minutes, the paradox would close forever.

"He means for us to be in it. Or at least to confront us where no one can intervene. But why?"

As far as he knew, Jared had no enemies, at least no one who could cross time and universe like this man. MJ was also bait, ensuring he would follow them into the rapidly shrinking micro-reality of the paradox loop.

Jared pressed the pedal, ignoring his protesting hip. He knew something the blond carjacker didn’t. His death timer had gone off today. Somehow, he would get Mike’s son away from the man and they would get through this. Somehow.

As they parked in the darkness at the edge of the road, Kinsey flicked his cigarette out the window and crossed his muscular arms. MJ breathed in the night air, and for a moment, his nervousness abated.

Whatever was going on, Kinsey was in a good mood. He sighed, and looked over at MJ.

"So, you really want to know what is going on."

MJ decided to play along. The more he knew, the better his chances.

"Yeah. Tell me."

"That is your parents over there."

MJ’s eyes passed over the distant diner and gas station. No sign of the white knight, and dad always drove that huge Chevy Suburban.

"Still don’ get it, do you?"

MJ shook his head silently.

Kinsey waved a hand at the night around them, "This is the night your parents meet. That is them down there."

MJ tried not to let his sudden alarm show on his face. This guy was way crazier than he had thought. Casually, he unbuckled his seatbelt.

Kinsey was too involved with his explanation to notice, "Of course, you were his father first. Then I created the shortcuts and killed your mother. Not your mother now, your real mother. I gave her locket to him. He gave it to her, not you. An’ Mike Stafford became his own father. And you didn’t exist anymore at all." Kinsey laughed.

This was truly chilling. MJ Shivered. He didn’t know the psychological name for it, but he knew he was looking at the craziest, most dangerous NUT he had ever laid eyes on. There was a kid in his high school that smoked dope behind the gym every day in the Mojave heat. That kid was out there, but he wasn’t in the same league as Kinsey.

For his part, Kinsey spoke with the absolute sincerity of a lunatic. MJ could tell he was enjoying himself.

"Then that albino freak comes and meddles with things, and you pop right back into existence. Only, now you’re the son." His laughter took on a hysterical, shrill edge.