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Stan staggered and hit the wall. He could barely stand up straight. The burn on his right shoulder was stinging and the tears in his eyes were blurring his vision. He spent hours trying to get this god damn machine to work, but to no avail. Ford was gone. And Stan didn’t have any idea how to bring him back.
He bumped into the door, basically falling out of the house. The blizzard didn’t die down. Icy wind was tearing at his red coat, blowing through his long hair and biting at every uncovered piece of his skin. The cold made his fresh wound hurt a little less.
Reaching the car, Stanley yanked the driver’s door open. He pushed his hand under the seat, frantically searching for something. Eventually he stood up and looked thoughtfully at the thing in his hand. A gun. His old, trusty M1911. Stan didn’t wonder for long. He’s already made a decision. He released the safety lock and put the gun to his head. The feeling of cold metal against his temple made Stan shiver. He let out the last shaky breath, gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. He made the decision, right?
He pulled the trigger, flinching. The barrel of a gun hit him in the head, but there was no big bang. The mockingly quiet click left Stan in disbelief. The clip was empty. For a few terribly long second he was frozen in place, staring intently at the pistol in his palm, as if asking it what should he do now. Slowly, he dropped to his knees. Kneeling in the snow, Stan let the colt slide out of his hand. His head was down, body shaking, hot tears running down his cheeks. He truly was useless. He couldn’t even put himself down successfully.
Couple very long minutes later, he forced numb body to move. The gun was left forgotten when Stan stumbled towards his brother’s house. Quickly, he walked up to the vending machine, punched in a code and went down to the lab. He almost fell down the stairs, tripping over his own feet.
The silence was dreadful. The sci-fi machinery that was emitting this ominous, cyan light not so long ago seemed dead. Stanley was staring at the huge metal triangle with growing hatred. He hit it once and twice, but by the third punch his sore fist barely touched the cold surface. Loud sob escaped his lips, as he pressed his forehead against the steel.
“Ford… No…”
Guilt, fear and heartache gnawing at his insides turned his weak whine into the sorrowful howl.
“I can’t save you! Don’t you understand?! I’m too dumb to save you! I’m so sorry…”
His voice cracked on the last sentence. He messed up again and this time it wasn’t something as harmless as failing a test or even accidentally destroying a stupid science project. This time he destroyed his brother’s life. For all he knew, Ford could’ve been dead or stuck in some crazy dimension. He could’ve been anywhere, really. One thing was for sure, he wasn’t where he should be – in the safety of his own house, drinking hot tea and reading in his recliner or doing other nerdy stuff.
Stan’s eyes mindlessly scanned the room. That’s when he noticed a book lying in the dark corner. He picked it up with curiosity, dusting off the front cover. In his hand, he had an old physics textbook. Coincidence or fate, he didn’t care. Gazing up at the portal, he whispered.
“I won’t give up. I’ll bring you back. I promise you, Ford… Whatever it takes.”