One More Week

Charlie swam toward shore. He got out and dried off, taking his time in the glorious summer sun. He arched his back and tossed the towel down. He dressed and sat down next to his laptop. He sipped from water holder, and then picked up the laptop and started typing. It was a struggle to start but he was soon in the zone.

* * * * *

A sedan drove up to the Rosewood Diner and Agents Dax and Fossetti got out. Agent Dax looked around. “So this is where it's hiding. Quaint.”

Agent Fossetti smiled. “I bet they have a wonderful cherry pie.”

Agent Dax glared at him. “Yeah, whatever. The sooner we find that backpack the better.”

“Well, we do have a couple of days.”

The two mountains walked into the diner, asked a few questions, and walked out. Agent Fossetti carried a small bag. Agent Dax looked at him. Agent Fossetti bowed his head in shame. “I had to make sure.” Agent Dax rolled his eyes as the two got back into the sedan.

* * * * *

The laptop dinged, and Charlie looked at his alarm. He quickly picked up his stuff and put it into his old backpack. He smiled at the banana slug stickers and then put it on. It was hard not smiling; he had complete yet another seven-day mission and just had to upload to his blog. He walked briskly to the bus stop, arriving just a minute before the bus. He would soon be back in town.

A few minutes a sedan carrying the two agents passed by a few minutes later.

* * * * *

Charlie stepped off the bus and walked to the Rosewood Diner. As he sat down and logged in, the waitress came up to him, grabbing her pad from her apron as she came up. “Two guys are looking for you. Didn't catch the badge, but they were plenty scary." 

He barely looked up. “I'm just dodging an inheritance.” Her eyebrow cocked. “How's the meatloaf today?”

She smiled. “Dangerous as usual."

He grinned back. “Then the cheese lasagna, then.”

She wrote it down. She walked off. He realized he hadn't asked for a water, so e put up a finger, hoping to get her attention, and then dropped as he figured he could ask her when she returned. He returned to uploading. By the time his lasagna had been delivered (and he had gotten his water) he had uploaded the blog and accompanying pictures, and was on to deciding where he would be off to for the next week. He was having problems deciding between Arizona and South Dakota; he ended up flipping a coin. He picked up, left a few bills on the table, and departed to pick up his bus ticket.

* * * * *

The two agents were leaving the motel. Neither were happy. “So we missed him by a hair. He's checked out.” Agent Dax glared into the distance.

“It also means that his week is almost over. He should be on the move and the backpack with him. So...think we'll get lucky and he's taking a bus?” Agent Fossetti pulled out his smart phone to check bus schedules.

“Yeah. He bartered some basic repairs to the pipes for just materials and taking some new pictures for the place's website. He should be able to afford a ticket.”

“Okay, so there are four buses leaving in the next couple of hours. He's coming from Austin, so that's eliminated. And he was in San Francisco just last year. So I'd guess Phoenix or Rapid City.”

“Phoenix is always boring this time of year. That bike rally is in just a few weeks....”

“So we have a winner. We just have to hope we find the backpack before the bus leaves.” The two agents quickly mounted up and drove off.

* * * * *

Charlie had had to put the backpack under the bus, but had kept a notepad and pencil. It would be a boring trip, but that meant that he would be getting a lot of sleep. After the last week, he would need it. He had no idea where he had picked up the ability to fix the pipes, but it had come in handy; he had been so mechanically inept as a kid that it took him an hour to fix a flat bike tire. He had just heard the knocking and suggested fixing the pipes in exchange for a room; his muscles were sore from all of the work he had put in.

He had picked up a lot of skills over the last few years that he had no idea where they had come from. He had expected some success from his time management skills, but the trip had been more successful than he would have expected; by breaking down his time to week-long chunks he had been able to focus on what he was doing and had become a successful blogger because of it. He was completing things, and had control over his life, and that made him feel satisfied.

He was going places, and not just to Phoenix; he was beginning to see some real financial rewards and would be able to retire to a cabin the woods in the next couple of years. He smiled; he was looking forward to leaving the highways of America. He decided to go the facilities and then settle in for some writing.

* * * * *

Agents Dax and Fossetti were not happy. There was no sign of the backpack on the Dakota-bound bus. Well, this trip had been done as a favor anyway; they hoped someone else could find the backpack before it killed again. Agent Fossetti picked up his phone.

“Yeah, it escaped again. We think it's on its way to Phoenix. We'd pursue but it left an hour an ago. I doubt a a full MTF is needed; just someone able to look through the cargo. Sure. Good luck.” He put his phone away. “Guess we're headed back to Santa Cruz.”

Agent Dax just opened his door. “That jerk Donalds had better have my beer ready for this.”

* * * * *

Charlie pulled up his zipper and turned to the mirror. He fixed an errant strand of hair, and noticed the black eye. It was soon followed by the pain of broken ribs. He finally noticed the growing red splotch in his belly just below the ribs. He pulled his shirt to investigate and saw a deep incision.

He panicked, and tried to staunch the flow of blood with a mass of paper towels. Soon the floor was covered in his blood. He fainted, overcome by blood loss. In minutes there was nothing left of Charlie. It was if he had evaporated.

* * * * *

Agent Freidliner managed to get the bus driver to open up the cargo hold. He smiled as saw the backpack with the two banana slug patches. He looked at the tag and asked the driver who belonged to the bag. After a quick inquiry, no one claimed the bag. The bus driver counted his passengers and notice he was missing one. Agent Freidliner took the backpack into custody and left a perplexed bus driver in his wake.

He put the backpack in his back seat and pulled out his phone. “Yeah, I've taken possession of the backpack. No sign of the accompanying entity. Yeah, the week must have expired. I'm only a few hours out but I should be home soon. Love you.” He put his phone up.

In a few moments he pulled out and was heading home. Nice backpack, doesn't look too scary..... 

 

SCP XXXX: The College Backpack

Class: Safe 

Description: The backpack is a brown canvas backpack with banana slug patches. 

Containment: The backpack can be kept in a standard security locker in a case to prevent physical contact. Due to its nature, it requires site manager permission to release for testing. 

Effect: Once taken into possession, the backpack will cause the person possessing it to transform into a replica of Page. If the process is interrupted within an hour the person's genetic template will assert itself and revert the individual. This entity (to be referred to as SCP-XXXX-1) has all of the former entity's biometrics (the fingerprints and retinal patterns are the same) as well as memory of some of the original's skills, but for all other intents and purposes will become Charles Anton Page.  

After one week (168 hours), wounds resembling the ones that killed Page appear on the body of SCP-XXXX-1, and it dies within thirty minutes. No attempts will save it will succeed and the body will disintegrate within minutes, leaving just the body. The backpack cam begin the transformation within five minutes of the disintegration. It should be noted that he gains no additional abilities, and can die or otherwise suffer like any other person, and any death will just hasten the resurrection process. 

History: In 1989 Santa Cruz college freshman/chemistry major Charles Anton Page decided to drop out of UC, Santa Cruz, and hit the road, inspired by Kerouac. He had also decided on a life philosophy based on “just one more week”. Sometime early on he began submitting articles to magazines based on his experiences, and it helped finance his life on the road. Within a year, he was robbed and left for dead, and eventually succumbed to his wounds.

He was soon resurrected, and his memory of the death was removed. While he was unsure of how he had arrived at his current location, he just returned to life as normal. Well, normal for him. He no longer worries about his occasional black-outs and just goes with it, looking forward to the next week of his life.