The 90th Minute

Chapter 3: The Rival who knew

Jayson sprinted back toward midfield. His lungs burning up in his chest, His boots splashed through the wet grass as the crowd continued to chant. But one thought wouldn't leave his mind.

73:26.

For that brief moment...The scoreboard had shown 90:00. Jayson shook his head.

"I'm imagining things."

"MAX!"

He looked up..A football came flying toward him. He controlled it with his chest. And suddenly—

A memory, Two boys, A dusty football field. One soccerball, One goal and a promise.

"One day, we'll play on the biggest stage together." Jayson blinked, and the memory disappeared. Standing in front of him was his rival, and once...His best friend, Desmond Henn. He tilted his head. "You still have that habit."

Jayson frowned. "What habit?"

"Thinking too much when you have the ball."

Jayson tightened his grip around the ball. "Desmond..."

Desmond smiled. "Been a while, Jayson."

The referee blew his whistle. Desmond immediately charged.

Jayson passed the ball to the side. He's number 16 teammates sprints and touches it from the sidelines. Desmond followed Jayson, not removing his eyes off of him but all'd Jayson did was accelerated and Desmond matched him.

"Max!" He passed a through ball which went far off but that was what Jayson knew.

"Your Left"

"What?" Jayson turned his head for a second and Desmond was catching up evenly

"How did.." "that voice again..." He thought

He marks him, looks him in the eyes and smirks slightly, Jayson moves right. So did Desmond, moves left, the same thing, he moves right again. Neither gave an inch. Jayson grinned. "He's still fast."

Desmond smirked. "You're still predictable."

Jayson suddenly stopped. Desmond stopped too. For a moment, they just stared at each other. Then Jayson whispered:

"You really think I'm predictable?"

Desmond's expression changed. "Yes."

Jayson pushed the ball forward.

WHOOSH!

Desmond moved. But Jayson didn't go left. He didn't go right either,

"Pounce at HIM!"

"There's that voice again" He thought. He went straight through the gap. Desmond's eyes widened. Jayson was past him. The crowd erupted.

"MAX!!!"

Jayson sprinted toward the box, passed one defender...two..three. The goal was getting closer. He could hear his teammates screaming.

"Pass!" "Shoot!" "JAYSON!"

But then...

That voice, that feeling returned

The world slowed. Rain droplets hung in the air. The goalkeeper's body shifted slightly. Jayson could see the exact corner of the goal. He knew where the ball needed to go. He raised his foot. Then—

The whisper.

"Not yet"

Jayson froze. His foot stopped inches from the ball. "What...?"

The world snapped back. A defender slides down and stole the ball.

WHAM!

Jayson fell onto the grass. The crowd groaned. He pushed himself up. Across the field, Desmond was staring at him. Not surprised, Not confused, Almost...afraid.

Jayson chased the defender and jogged passed Desmond

"You're hearing it too."

Jayson's eyes widened.

"Hearing what?"

Desmond didn't answer.

Instead, he looked toward the stadium clock.

74:02.

Then back at Jayson.

"When the clock reaches ninety..." He paused.

"...don't trust what you see."

Jayson stared at him. "What does that mean?"

Desmond turned away. "You're going to find out."

The whistle blew again, the ref gave number 6 of Desmond's team a yellow card for a foul. The match continued. But Jayson wasn't thinking about the score anymore. He was thinking about one thing...

What happened to Desmond? And why did his former best friend seem to know something about the impossible things happening to him? Far above the stadium...Behind the stormy clouds...Two faint lights opened in the darkness.

Watching.

Waiting.

74:13.