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Chapter 0004

Author: GN002

publish date: 2023-12-01 14:33:03

It had been over an hour since Darcy had escaped from her basement prison. She was still in New York and it was now 10.54am. A lot of time had been wasted and Chapman might not even be outside the Lennon’s apartment. Yet, Darcy had a plan and she was going to carry it out. But things had changed. The paper she had taken from the basement confused her as she now re-read it.

Subject: Darcy Freeman
Subject continues to be responsive to suggestion and remains unaware of involvement. Proving to be a good asset, willing to protect and carry out objective despite resistance.
Darcy stopped reading. Why was she being referred to as the subject? What was she involved in? The words needed to be answered and like a puzzle, she was missing some of the pieces. One thing she did know, was that someone was watching her, someone was using her, but she had no knowledge of involvement in anything, willingly or unwillingly.

Subject is showing signs of headaches and temporal loss of objectives. Possibly subconscious battling against protocol. Advice to reset subject.
Now she knew why she got headaches. Battling against protocol. What did that mean? She noticed the sheet was printed, page 1 of 5; how could she get the other pages; it might help her understand what is going on? Darcy tried to think back to what this could mean. She could not remember when the headaches had started. However, the biggest question on her mind was, had someone taken her? Had someone done something to her? The idea seemed ridiculous.

Trying to think back to her present, life had seemed normal to her. She had carried on with her job, studied as normal and continued to make notes in her journal about history. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Frustrated, she sat down on a bench, cross that she did not have any answers. One thing she knew for certain, was that she always had the answers. Yet, now, there were more questions than answers.

The hard leather of the journal pressed into her butt as she sat down. Darcy reached behind and pulled it out from her pocket. It was worn and curled from heavy use, discoloured and full of notes.

Darcy’s fingers flipped page after page, hoping she would come across something useful, but nothing struck her as unusual. Newspaper clippings filled the book, many she had copied from the library, with headlines from history.

People who keep diaries or journals are usually motivated individuals who want to use their time wisely. Writing down thoughts allows reflection, and can show how well you are using your time, it can also be a great motivator for future aspirations.

Darcy was motivated. Her journal had allowed for reflection. Suddenly a sharp pain shot though her head and she lost focus for a second. Opening her eyes, Darcy heard the honk of a bus. She looked up as it passed her displaying its destination as, ‘Upper-West-Side.’ She watched the bus continued its journey until it disappeared into the distance. The pain in her head quickly vanished had gone. Darcy stood up and put the journal back into her pocket.

Stick to the plan. Save John Lennon
Darcy hoped Mark Chapman would still be waiting around The Dakota and she could prove her theory. ‘Minor Changes.’ She had completely forgotten what she had been doing and was now focused on the plan.

After walking for ten minutes, she spotted The Dakota in the distance. It was more impressive than she had read about and the pictures were nothing in comparison to the real thing. The striking building stood on the northwest corner of Central Park West, with its high gables and deep roof which gave the structure an outstanding look, it had attracted many high-profile residences over the years. She looked in awe at the building. People were coming and going, and a well-dressed doorman was greeting those who entered the building.

Darcy surveyed the scene, looking out for Chapman. She had studied his picture many times and memorized how he looked, but almost missed him, he was younger than the picture she had, and he was talking to the many fans who had gathered outside the building. She watched closely, as Chapman, who stood at 5ft 10”, confidently wandered about the crowd, looking calm and laughing occasionally. He was an unstable man, suffering with clinical depression, probably psychotic and believed he was sent from God, to end the blasphemy and hypocrisy from John Lennon. Darcy had read the police reports and the comments experts had made about him, during and after his trial. He certainly was not insane, just very paranoid and obsessed. Chapman was never released from prison and died at the age of 74, in the year 2029.

Darcy looked up at the clock on the church across the street. 11.59am. Five hours until Lennon would meet Chapman and sign a copy of his album, Double Fantasy. Nearly eleven hours until Chapman would shoot Lennon five times. She had to stop him. To everyone else, Chapman did not look out of place. Every day, hundreds of people came to The Dakota, hoping to meet their idol, looking for a chance to touch him or that he would sign something of importance. Today was no different.

Darcy had been watching for twenty minutes, thinking about what she would say and what she would do. This was going to change history, but not too drastically. If she could stop Chapman without incident, no one would even know. Life would carry on as normal. She pulled out her journal and turned to the clipping of the headline for the following day:

John Lennon Shot Dead.
That was all the headline said. The article then went on the describe what had happened on December 8^th and that Lennon was shot five times around 10.50pm. She read it anyway, even though she could probably repeat it word for word. Nothing different from the last time she read it.

Putting the journal away, Darcy decided to talk to Chapman. Walking across the street she joined the adoring fans, who were huddled closely together, waiting patiently. Perhaps she could scare him into leaving.

Chapman was casually talking to a small lady, who was wearing a t-shirt with Lennon’s face on the front and the words, ‘imagine’ on the back. She had a Beatles bag hanging off her shoulder. A super-fan.

Darcy cautiously made her way toward Chapman and stood next to the small lady as they finished the conversation. Chapman had said something that upset her because she stormed off calling him a loser. He ignored her and caught Darcy’s eye as she stared at him. Adrenalin was flowing through her body, she could feel her heart beating faster and even though it was cold, Darcy felt the heat rising. He finally spoke to her.

‘I’ve not seen you here before.’

She said nothing, just stared at him, seeing the cold killer that he is.

‘Are you ok?’ he asked, confused by Darcy’s stillness.

She walk closer to him, so she was only inches away from his face. Looking up at him, she spoke, unable to contain her feelings.

‘I know who you are.’

He did not flinch. He did not react, he just smiled.

‘Who am I?’

‘Chapman, Mark Chapman.’

‘Who are you?’

‘It doesn’t matter who I am. It matters what you are going to do today.’

‘What am I going to do?’

‘Kill John Lennon.’

Her words hit him like a brick to the face and he instantly stepped away from Darcy, surprised and confused by her statement. She could also see the outline of a gun under his jacket, the copy of the book in his hand and the sweat on his forehead. Mark Chapman regained his composure and stepped back toward Darcy laughing.

‘I would never kill him, I love him,’ he lied.

‘Don’t lie to me,’ said Darcy, getting slightly annoyed. ‘I can see the weapon under your jacket.’

He looked down, then smiled.

‘I carry it for protection.’

Darcy could not stop. The words were pouring out of her mouth, filled with anger and rage. She was standing before a killer.

‘You came here to kill him. You hate him. You hate the blasphemy and lies. The fame and worship he gets; it eats you up. You want it to end.’

Darcy words struck his core and this time Chapman’s cool demeanor changed and he looked visibly annoyed. He moved so close to Darcy that she could smell his stale breath and felt the spit as he spoke.

‘I don’t know who you are or what you want, but you are dead.’

Before Darcy realized what he was doing, Chapman pulled out his gun and dug it into her ribcage. She winced, feeling it push into her flesh.

‘Let’s go,’ he said, smiling through yellow teeth.

Darcy hesitated and without thinking shouted so that everyone could hear. ‘He’s got a gun. He’s going to kill John.’

That was enough to cause a reaction. Chapman released the pressure of the gun, as the crowd turned and looked at Darcy. Someone noticed the gun. Pointing at her, somebody shouted, ‘He has a gun.’ ‘He has a gun.’ The crowd screamed. Some ran away as quickly as possible, others stood to watch, and Chapman backed away from Darcy, looking at her with pure anger. Some of the crowd were closing in on him and the doorman had joined the party.

‘Hey buddy. Put the gun away. No one needs to get hurt today.’

Chapman said nothing. From the look on his face, he was clearly confused by the change to his plans. Yet, it was more than confusion, there was panic. He raised the gun in the air and fired two shots. The sound echoed through the arches of The Dakota and more people screamed and were terrified. Darcy stood still, afraid to move, afraid to speak. She turned hearing someone yell out, ‘call the cops.’ That was enough to send Chapman into a rage. He turned his gun onto the crowd and began to blindly fire. Bullets flew in all directions, causing the majority of the crowd to dive to the ground, while others ran away, and Darcy sprinted across the road. The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance, as Chapman stopped firing and she ran away from The Dakota, leaving a scene of screaming and frightened people.

Standing across the road, Darcy watched. Traffic had stopped and the screaming had now stopped. All that was left was chaos. Five people lay on the ground, including the doorman.

Chapman had disappeared around the corner and was quickly lost from sight. Darcy automatically chased after him, running between the stationary cars and down the street, seeing multiple police cars appear and screeched to a halt outside The Dakota.

Running hard, Darcy caught sight of Chapman in the distance. He was clearly unfit and was slowing down, struggling to keep up the pace. Whereas Darcy loved running and ran whenever possible. He stopped at the crossroads, looked back, saw Darcy running towards him and made a run down the left street. Within seconds, Darcy did the same, turning the corner and continued following Chapman. Although, Chapman was nowhere to be seen. She stopped, looked up and down the street, there were no other turnings. Where is he? Chapman must be hiding somewhere, lurking in the shadows, waiting to leap out.

Carefully walking on, Darcy kept a good look out for where he could be. Buildings and doorways filled the street on both sides, many places that Chapman could hide. Fire escapes ran down the side of some buildings and Darcy looked up in case he had decided to climb one but saw no one clambering up a ladder.

Beyond the din of the traffic from the city, Darcy caught the sound of heavy breathing. She stopped. The sound from a sharp intact of breath, along with the relief from exhaling, was just ahead. Chapman was hiding in a dim doorway, breathing hard from exhaustion. Darcy was surprised that she could hear his breathing, but her finely tuned hearing was probably a result of spending hours in quiet environments, able to detect the slightest of noise.

She approached softly, gently lifting her feet up and down as she walked closer to him. He must have heard her, because he leapt out from the shadows and hurled himself at Darcy. He was angry, but he was also slow. She instantly moved sideways and Chapman hit the air aimlessly. Quickly striking his back with her elbow, it sent him flying to ground from his own momentum. But he was better than she gave him credit for. Because, just before landing on the tarmac, Chapman pulled his gun out. He crashed onto the ground yet spun onto his back holding the pistol directly at Darcy. His hands were shaking while hovering on the trigger, he was angry and he did not hesitate. His finger squeezed hard.

The gun engaged, firing the bullet from the chamber, but Darcy had anticipated the shot and was quick to react. At the moment Chapman squeezed the trigger, Darcy kicked Chapman’s hand causing the bullet to fire away from her, striking the side of a building. The sound of the weapon had alerted a nearby police cruiser and the flashing blue lights suddenly lit up the road. Darcy gave up and made a run for it. The driver noticed them in the distance and accelerated. Chapman too was on his feet and followed Darcy. She immediately darted down the nearest side street, hearing the cruiser’s revving engine getting closer. Chapman was still behind her and Darcy made an abrupt turn down a small alley to her left. Chapman did not stop in time to make the turn and carried on down the street. The police car slowed a little at the alley but continued in pursuit of Chapman. Darcy did not stop. She kept running, putting as much distance from The Dakota. Finally, she was far enough and slumped into a murky doorway, hardly able to breath. What a mess!

Darcy was cross how things had unfolded and now more people were dead. She felt her journal dig into her and pulled it out. The newspaper clipping which had said, John Lennon Shot Dead, had changed. The headline now read, Five dead at The Dakota.
‘Yesterday Afternoon, an attempt to kill John Lennon went terribly wrong, killing five people. The Dakota, where Lennon lives with his wife, Yoko and Son, Sean was the scene for the devastating attack. Fans described the gunman as a middle-aged man who had been there all day, hoping to meet Lennon.
Police are questioning all those at the Dakota and are looking for a man and a woman who were seen fleeing the scene after the shooting.’
Darcy was shocked, she had altered history and added herself to it, wanted for questioning and for killing five people. She read the article which had totally changed. It had various comments from those present and listed the five people killed by Chapman. There was also a description of Chapman and of Darcy.

‘A woman in her twenties, black hair and slim build was seen leaving the scene. Please contact NYPD if you have any information.’
Attached to the back of the newspaper clipping was another article. In was dated July 1985. Beatles reunion concert – A night to remember.
John Lennon had never been killed. The article was all about how The Beatles had performed a one-off concert, with the tickets selling in record time. It had been labelled the concert of the century.

Darcy had achieved her mission, Save John Lennon, but at a cost. People had died, she would be a wanted criminal, and maybe Chapman would hurt others. Darcy collapsed into the doorway, frustrated that she messed things up. She believed that you could alter time without too much disruption, changing small things at a time. But people had died, families devastated, children without fathers; maybe those kids would grow up hating life. She had to try again and get it right. She had to get the device back. Darcy closed her eyes and fell asleep.

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