In Times Like These Boxed Set

by Nathan Van Coops

  “Let me see your chronometer.” Benji has a small box of tools out on the kitchen table. I hand him my chronometer and he uses a set of micro screwdrivers to remove the back.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “Seeing if your unit is already wired with a remote receiver. If it is, I can tune a remote switch to it for you.”

  “Where did you learn how to do that?”

  “Abe Manembo. The guy is a genius.” He sets the back of the chronometer on a clean white rag and holds the chronometer a few inches from his face. “You should look him up sometime if you get the chance . . . and yes. He put one in here already. That means I just need to see what range it’s using . . .” He uses a jeweler’s magnifying glass to read inside the chronometer. “All right. I can do that.” He pulls one of the tube-like remote switches from his toolbox and pops the end open. He uses pliers to remove a red diode, and replaces it with a blue one. Lastly, he closes up my chronometer and hands it back to me.

  “Here. Try that out.” He hands me the remote switch. “You just flip over the safety just like on the DGs, and then you can push the button. This is one more thing you don’t want going off in your pocket when you aren’t paying attention.”

  “Great, another exciting way to die. I’ll add it to the list.”

  Benji smiles. “Go ahead. Give it a shot.”

  I dial my chronometer for a two-second jump without looking at the dial, but then double check it as I place my chronometer hand on the counter near the sink. I flip open the safety on the remote with my thumb. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” I say, and push the button.

  When I reappear, Benji is still smiling. “See? Child’s play.” I look down at my still existing body in relief. “I have something else for you, too.” Benji moves to the closet and removes a gas mask, a pair of welding gloves, and a large fire extinguisher. “I couldn’t get my hands on any real fire gear but this will be better than nothing.”

  I nod, thinking of the heat I’ll be facing on the other side of the doorknob. “Thank you, man. This is all really fantastic.”

  “You should probably take this, too.” He pulls a leather jacket out of the closet. “Not like I get to wear it much out here anyway. Are you ready to do this now or do you want to wait for the morning?”

  I walk over to the bed and pick up Quickly’s journal. “I think I’m ready to go now. The longer I wait, the more time I have to worry about it.”

  “All right then. You remember what time you’re going back to?”

  “Yeah. I wrote that one down.” I flip open the journal to the page where I scribbled my jump information and dial in my time. My heart begins to beat faster in anticipation. I stuff the journal into my back pocket and don the leather jacket, then pause to take a deep breath. You’re not gonna die, Ben. Get it together.

  I slip the gas mask onto the top of my head, but leave it up on my forehead so I can still speak. The welding gloves are next. I pull the left one on first and it covers my chronometer and half of my forearm. The fingers of the glove are thick and awkward for holding anything small, so I realize I can’t wear both. I stuff the other glove into one of the jacket pockets, and pick up the remote with my right hand.

  “You’re gonna do great,” Benji says, looking at me approvingly.

  I set the remote down on the fire extinguisher and extend my hand. “Thank you. Thank you for being here for this.”

  “It was my pleasure,” Benji shakes it. “Sorry I hit you with so many of those rocks.”

  I smile and pick up the remote again, readying it with my thumb and forefingers. I then slip my remaining fingers under the handle of the fire extinguisher and pick it up. Benji takes a step back and crosses his arms to watch.

  “Hey, Benji?”

  “Yeah, Ben.”

  “Do you think, that when all these different versions of us, how ever many of us there are . . . when we die, do you think we share a soul?”

  “Ha. Now you’re asking questions way above my pay grade. But you know, I kind of hope so. Maybe some of your decisions can help make up for some of mine.”

  I nod. I take a deep breath and pick up the doorknob, careful to keep the keyhole facing the right direction.

  “See ya around, kid.”

  “See ya.” I press the remote switch.

  23

  “A time traveler’s clock ticks no slower than anyone else’s. Guard your minutes and seconds closer than your dollars and cents. You can predict when you’ll be out of money, but not when you’ll be out of time.”

  -Excerpt from the journal of Dr. Harold Quickly, 1986

  Flames lick out of a crack at the top of the door. The smell of smoke assaults my nose and I take a step away from the hot air in my face. I set the fire extinguisher down on the hallway floor and slip the remote into my pocket. Coughing, I pull the gas mask over my face and don the other welding glove. The fire extinguisher seems awkward and heavy as I hoist it back up. I yank the pin out of the handle and mentally prepare myself for what I’m about to do. Malcolm needs me.

  The moment I turn the knob and push the door open, a wave of fire backdrafts out the top of the door and engulfs the ceiling. The room glows brightly from the sudden influx of oxygen. Dense smoke blackens the hallway. I go in spraying the extinguisher ahead of me. Getting as far as the inner arc of the door, I look around. A dark mass is prostrate on the floor to the right. I block the door open with the extinguisher and rush forward against the oppressive heat.

  Scooping my hands under Malcolm’s armpits, I drag him backward to the hall as fast as I can manage. His head lolls in my arms, but he coughs. Thank God. I drag him out the door and left down the hall. The flames begin to consume the doorway.

  When we’ve reached a safe distance, I lay Malcolm on the floor and remove my mask and gloves. “Malcolm!” I roll him onto his side. He coughs violently for a few seconds but then looks up into my face and smiles.

  “I knew you’d come back.”

  “We’re not out of this yet, buddy. Can you walk?”

  I help Malcolm to his feet and throw one of his arms around my neck. I half drag him past the balcony hallway and into the living room of the apartment. When I reach the doorway to the stairs, I stop and he slumps against the wall.

  “Do you think you can make it out from here?” I ask. “I have to go back and find Francesca. That woman with the gun took her.”

  “Lillith. I heard them talking. If they’re taking her with them, they’ll be going out the second floor to the office next door. That’s how they got in. They busted a hole in the wall of the janitor’s closet and came through into one of the classrooms. With the place on fire, they’ll probably go back out there, too.”

  “How did they find this place?”

  Malcolm lowers his head. “I didn’t mean to . . . It started out okay. When I found him with the spectrometer, I thought he was just another displaced citizen like you guys.”

  “What happened?”

  “I didn’t realize he was the one you warned me about. He was going by a different name. I told him that Dr. Quickly might be able to help him. He asked me a lot of questions, but when I went to leave, he stopped me. That’s when Lillith got involved.

  “They were living in her trailer in Pinellas Park. I guess he met her in a bar in St. Pete beach. I think she might be crazier than he is. They tied me up and have been holding me for days . . . I think I talked too much . . .”

  “Hey, it’s okay.” I put a hand on his shoulder. “That guy is a psychopath. You couldn’t know what he was capable of. It’s not your fault.”

  “They wanted Dr. Quickly. They kept me alive because they thought he would come for me. When he didn’t show up in a couple of days, they decided to come here. They knew where the building was from some of the stuff in my bag. I didn’t tell them how to get in, but they figured out a way anyway.”

  “What do they want with Quickly?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s nothing good.” He c
oughs again.

  “Okay. Get yourself out of here. Do you know where the hole in the janitor’s closet is? Which classroom is it?”

  “On the second level, along the east wall.”

  “Okay. Let’s get down there. I don’t know how much time I’ve got.”

  I help Malcolm down the first flight of stairs and stop on the landing of the lab’s second floor. I lean over the railing and look down the couple of flights to the ground floor. “You going to be able to make it okay?”

  “Yeah. Go. I’ll get help.”

  I slap Malcolm on the shoulder and open the door to the second level.

  “Thank you,” he calls out after me.

  “You bet,” I say, and plunge into the hallway. I run through the lab, dialing my chronometer for a two-minute backward jump, in case something leaps out at me. The hallways are vacant. I rush past the lockers where I’d found our packs. I need to find the east wall again. I know I wrote it around here somewhere. I scan the walls as I turn corners, and finally see my scribbled word and arrow still up by the trim. I sprint down the hall past the stairwell and Quickly’s office, then make a left. I push open the doors on two other rooms till I find the one I’m looking for.

  A rough hole has been hammered through the drywall. A couple of exposed 2x4s are splintered to a ruin, allowing enough space for someone to crawl through. As I creep closer, I can make out the sound of Francesca’s voice. Thank God she’s alive. I move up to the hole. The door to the janitor’s closet on the opposite side is open.

  “Get your fucking hands off me, asshole!”

  Something crashes to the floor. “Get her, baby!” Lillith’s voice rings out. The scuffling subsides. My heart pounds.

  “Listen, you little bitch, I’m going to teach you some manners, but first you’re going to start talking. Where’s the scientist?”

  The voices are out of sight, but not far. I crawl gingerly through the hole, past a mop bucket and a shelf of cleaning products that has been shoved out of the way to access the wall. When I reach the doorway, I’m looking at a cubicle with a typewriter and a calendar of puppies in a basket. To the left, an aisle bisects the office from more cubicles on the other side.

  “I told you. I don’t know where he is,” Francesca says.

  Her voice is coming from ahead of me to the left. I keep low and move to the corner of the cubicle across from me. Crouched on one knee, I poke my head around the corner to have a look. Ahead, the aisle opens up into a space with a conference table. Beyond that, nearly against the wall of windows looking out to the east, Stenger has Francesca in a rolling office chair. He looms over her, the gun in his right hand. Lilith, now unarmed but holding a bulging plastic bag, is encouraging him from a few feet away.

  “If we have to make this more difficult on you, we will,” Stenger says.

  Francesca’s face is red on the right side where he’s struck her, but her eyes are defiant. Stenger reaches his left hand around his back and up under his shirt to where he keeps his knife. Rising anger overwhelms my nerves. I slip the remote switch out of my pocket and palm it as I step into the aisle.

  “Hey, shithead!”

  Stenger spins at the sound of my voice and almost instantaneously moves behind Francesca. As he recognizes me, he hooks his arm around Francesca’s neck and pulls her up out of the chair. He kicks the chair aside and holds the gun to her head. He sneers. “Well, look who decided to come back.”

  “Let her go.”

  “I don’t think I will, Benjamin.” He smiles. “Oh, I know your name. Does that surprise you? Been doing a little research since I met you at the gas station that night.”

  “I’m happy for you,” I say. “Apparently you didn’t learn that it’s not nice to beat up women. You might want to keep studying.”

  Stenger pulls on Francesca’s neck a little harder and she grimaces. “Oh, you don’t like the way I’m treating your girlfriend here? That’s just the beginning, Ben. I don’t think things are going to end well for any of your friends, now that I think about it. We’re having a little foreigner barbeque as we speak.”

  “It’s your ending you should be worried about,” I say, stepping closer. I keep my eyes on Stenger and the gun, but Lillith is watching me too. Francesca’s eyes are on me as well, but her right hand is inching slowly toward her pocket.

  “So, you’re a tough guy now, is that it?” Stenger says. “You found yourself a leather jacket and now I’m supposed to think you’re a badass? You gonna walk in here and beat me up? I think you might want to reconsider your plan there, Ace. Unless you want to see your girlfriend’s brains all over your fancy new jacket.”

  “I can give you Quickly,” I say. Stenger stops smiling. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? It’s what you’re here for.” Stenger is eyeing me with suspicion, but I see I have his attention.

  “Just shoot his ass, baby,” Lillith says. “We don’t need the scientist now.” She waves a stack of hundred dollar bills from the bag. They found Quickly’s office.

  “Shut up,” Stenger says. He narrows his eyes at me. “Where is he?”

  “Let her go, and I can take you to him.”

  “You’ll just run off.”

  “Why do you want him so badly?”

  “He’s the one who did this!” Stenger yells. “He’s the one who cost me everything. I don’t let my debts go unsettled.”

  “You think you’re the only time traveler who matters?” Lillith laughs. “My man is twice the man you’ll ever be.”

  “Yeah, you sure know how to pick ’em,” I say.

  “I told you to shut up,” Stenger yells at her.

  Francesca has finished removing her hand from her pocket. I see the glint of silver. The degravitizer. I take another step forward. Stenger retreats against the windows, but he raises his elbow on his gun hand, pressing the muzzle harder into Francesca’s temple. “You really want her dead, is that it?” he says.

  “It doesn’t have to be like this, Stenger,” I say. “You could just leave. Go away somewhere. You and Lillith could take the money. Live happy somewhere with some little pyromaniac children. You really want to tangle with a guy who can master space and time?”

  “That old man doesn’t scare me,” Stenger says. “I’m not going to run away and disappear like a nobody. It’s him that should be scared.”

  “I wasn’t talking about Dr. Quickly,” I say. “I was talking about me.”

  I spring forward into a run. Stenger tries to point the gun at me, but before he can aim, Francesca jams the end of the degravitizer against his thigh and depresses the button. I veer sideways toward the nearest cubicle and dial my chronometer as Stenger screams. I jump onto the nearest desk, and as I plant my hand on the top of the cubicle wall, I see Francesca roll out of Stenger’s grasp and duck under the conference table. Stenger reels, with one hand on his thigh. With the other, he tries to aim the gun at me as I vault over the cubicle wall. As my feet clear it, I press the remote switch.

  The office is suddenly bustling with workers in suits and skirts. The woman occupying the desk I land on, shrieks as I knock the coffee cup out of her hand with my knee. I sprint around the end of the cubicles toward the far end of the conference table. A man’s stack of files comes loose all over the floor as I race past him.

  “What the— Hey!”

  I turn the corner past a fake ficus, scanning the room now filled with daytime office workers. The conference table lies ahead of me, and beyond it the window where I last saw Stenger—hours from now. Two executives watch my approach with wide eyes from opposite sides of the table. The man standing at the head of the table falls over his chair backward as I sprint straight toward him. I need to get back to the time I left, plus maybe half a second . . . I leap onto the conference table.

  On my second step, my feet land on some manila folders and I slip and drop to my knees, sliding forward as I dial in my chronometer setting. I regain my balance momentarily just before sliding off the end of the table. My ch
ronometer hand slaps the edge and I press the remote. I land on my feet, directly in front of Stenger. His gun is still aimed past me toward the cubicles where I vanished. Benji’s words jump into my mind as I lower my shoulder. “Dying ain’t the worse thing that can happen to a man.” I hope he’s right. I lunge forward and plate glass shatters around my ears as I force Stenger through the window.

  As Stenger and I sail into the void, three stories above the alley, it’s no longer Benji’s voice in my mind, but rather Cowboy Bob’s. “The sky never hurt anybody. It’s hitting the ground that gets you.”

  But we don’t hit the ground.

  We hit a truck.

  The force of the crash onto the semi-trailer knocks the wind out of me. Pain shoots up my arm as my wrist bends awkwardly. Stenger is under me, but not for long. His elbow shoots up and knocks me in the side of the head. I roll sideways, gasping.

  When I look over to him, Stenger is scrambling to his feet. Why isn’t he dead? We were supposed to be dead. I roll over and get to my hands and knees. My left wrist buckles under the weight, and my shoulder crashes into the top of the trailer all over again. The side of Quickly’s building looms above us. I can see the hole we came out of. Francesca is still up there with Lillith. I feel bad for Lillith. She’s in for a rough time.

  I scan the area around us. Loading dock. Alley. The cab of the truck is behind me. Is there a way down? I look back to Stenger. The gun is gone. That’s something at least. I struggle to get to my feet. Stenger has blood trickling down the back of his neck. Why won’t you die? I feel something warm dripping down my forehead. I touch it and see my own blood on my empty right hand. I’ve lost the remote. I square up to face Stenger.