In Times Like These Boxed Set

by Nathan Van Coops

  Jonah rearranges some things in the packs before looking up to Viznir. “Can you carry some things? These things can make the jump.”

  “Oh, that reminds me, I still need to grab my pack. I can fit stuff in there.” I pull the stone from my pocket and set it on the floor away from the others. I check my compass so I’m standing on the proper side and then consult my bracelet. I aim for the next even minute to make the math easier in my head and set my chronometer. “Hold off the guards for another couple minutes. I’ll be right back.”

  Jonah dutifully takes his weapon from his belt and faces the doorway as I crouch to my anchor and watch the last few seconds count down. I smile at Viznir and push the pin. The next moment I’m back in the little cottage in the woods.

  My pack is just beyond the stone at my fingertips. I recognize the sound of my own voice from the next room. “Let’s say it takes a minute or so to come back, pick up the gear, set my chronometer and bug out. Probably less, but we’ll call it a minute . . .”

  I gently pick up the pack and sling it over my shoulder. I crouch slowly back to my anchor, careful to not let anything clatter. I leave my time increment on my chronometer set the same, but merely flip the slider on the side from back to forward. I can’t help but grin at the sound of Viznir’s voice asking questions in the other room. I push the pin and reappear in the castle chapel. I straighten up from the stone and toss it to Viznir. “Told you it would work.”

  Jonah reattaches his weapon to his belt. I notice a couple more prone bodies have been added to the pile by the door.

  Viznir considers the stone, then tosses it aside. “How is this dog thing going to work?”

  “It’s easy,” Jonah replies. He hands me a bag of dog food to put in my pack and puts the Bible in its place. “Just hold onto me. Barley knows the way from his collar.”

  “Like some kind of doggie GPS?” I ask.

  “It makes noises only he can hear to tell him which way to go. Then, when the time comes for me to show up, it beeps a sound everybody can hear. If there are any people around, Dad says they are more likely to stand clear if they can hear the noise.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “Barley knows what to do. He wouldn’t let anything hurt me.”

  The dog’s clearly ecstatic expression in the proximity of its master makes me not doubt it.

  Jonah takes up his position on the anchor and sets his instruments. Viznir and I stand behind him. When Jonah is ready, I rest my hand on top of his colorful snail helmet. The jump is instant, and I drop a few inches on the landing because the dog has wisely stood atop a stump in a clearing for our arrival. We all land in the grass. I straighten up and consider our surroundings. Just to our right, a dirt path leads into woods that resemble those around the cottage. The dog has accumulated a few leaves in his coat and is panting from the run to wherever we are, but otherwise seems fine. I appreciate that he didn’t have us reappear in the forest where we might have been imbedded into a tree branch.

  Jonah points to where the path enters the woods. “The drop off is in there.”

  I lead the way along the narrow path and find it passes through a channel of stone made by two boulders. Once we squeeze through the narrow opening, we find an empty space encircled by rock with no way to continue. I search fruitlessly for the repository. “It has to be here somewhere.” I consult my map. It shows the stone ring we’re in with a mark on one side for the repository. I look the direction it indicates but see only blank stone. I step up to the imposing wall and run my hand across the rough surface. As I do, the bracelet on my arm triggers a clunk somewhere inside the rock. I study the wall, then place both hands against the boulder and push. The face of the rock slides smoothly inward to reveal a chamber about six feet deep. A shelf has been carved into the rock along the right side, and I locate my name over a space just big enough for the Bible. “Found it.”

  I step back into the sunlight and smile at Jonah. “You want to go first? You got us here.”

  Jonah grins. “Okay. Thanks.” He tugs at the dog’s saddlebags and removes the wooden saint statue and I trade him the dog food back for my Bible. He disappears into the alcove in the rock and I can tell when he deposits the statue because the narrow path behind us shimmers with light. Jonah reemerges and grins at me. “We got here first. There’re no other anchors in there.”

  “Nice!” I give him a high five.

  Jonah steps toward the shimmering light between the rocks. “Thanks for getting Barley into the castle.”

  “No problem, bud. We’ll see you in a few.”

  Jonah waves and then orders Barley to enter the gate. The dog barks and happily bounds through. Jonah disappears after him and the shimmer fades.

  “You know, at some point you’re going to have to actually compete against him.” Viznir says. “You just let the kid have first place.”

  “Second is nothing to be ashamed of, Vizzy. He just saved our asses.” I step into the alcove and shove the Bible into the spot under my name. My bracelet beeps #2. The rock door closes automatically behind me as I exit. I tighten the straps on my pack and gesture toward the gate. “Let’s see what level four has for us, huh?” Viznir draws his pistol this time as he steps through. I take a deep breath and follow.

  15

  “Knowing where you’ve been is easy, so pay attention to when you’ve been. We have spatial memories—that can’t be helped, it’s just the way our brains work. Train it to remember the ‘when’ of your experiences and then you’ll begin to have the mind of a true time traveler.”–Journal of Dr. Harold Quickly, 2006

  The air is humid and carries the scent of saltwater and bird droppings. We’ve emerged into twilight under a canopy of trees. Some are palms. I also recognize the swooping drapery of “old man’s beard” lichen in the crooks of conifer branches. It reminds me of Florida and home. The coming night is being heralded by the sounds of insects, and a gap in the trees shows the last light of the sun on some high cirrus clouds.

  “The boy didn’t wait,” Viznir says, holstering his pistol. “He’ll have a five or ten minute head start on us if the timing on the gates stays consistent.”

  I ignore his observation and search for our objective box. Dog tracks dot the dirt near the rotted half of a fallen tree trunk, and the wood is eaten away by termites, so it’s easy to lift. Our objective boxes are anchored to hooks in the ground underneath. I retrieve mine and let the log fall back over the others. When I get the box open, I smile at the contents. “It’s a treasure map!”

  I flash the document at Viznir. The parchment has rough edges and looks as though it’s been aged. The cursive scripts across it are written in both Spanish and English in varying inks. The location of our object is marked with an X and has an illustration of an elaborate pistol next to it. According to the mark on the map, the pistol is located in the middle of a cove. I scan the rest of the map quickly. “Oh, man. This could be a problem.”

  “What?”

  I show the map to Viznir. “The objective might be underwater. It points out here to this cove.” I poke my finger at the mark for our objective. “But that’s not the only issue. We’re on an island, but it’s not the same island as our repository. We’re going to need a boat.”

  As Viznir takes the map from my hands, his face suddenly goes fuzzy. I blink and try to clear my head. I start to lose my balance.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Viznir reaches out to steady me but misses my arm as I stagger backward.

  “Ben.” The voice isn’t Viznir’s this time. Oh God. Not again. I tumble onto my back as my vision starts to go black. I fight for consciousness, but the tunnel of light narrows to a point and is gone. The light of reality is replaced with color and sound. Men in black are chasing people I recognize—Milo and Kara, Cliff and Genesis. One of the men with the glowing eyes stops to stare at me. Who is that? The scene tumbles on, and I try to make sense of my surroundings. I need to get somewhere, but I’m not sure why. Milo and Kara yell for
me to follow them, and we plunge into a labyrinth of pipes and alleyways. We’re rushing through some kind of subterranean city. My stomach is knotted, anticipating the approach of some impending doom, but then I’m past it. Mym is smiling at me from my bed in my apartment, looking up from a book. I try to smile back but something is still pulling at my mind, trying to turn my attention away. No! Let me have a chance to talk to her. I just found her. I finally turn my head to the right. I’m looking at a landscape like I’ve never seen before. Rivers of color climb out of a desert and into the sky. A man is a few yards ahead of me looking up. He turns and smiles. It’s me. The other me stops smiling and looks me directly in the eyes. “You’ll have to find me. When this is over. Find me, Ben.”

  “How?” I stammer back. “Where are you?”

  “It’s important. You have to find me. Your future depends on it.”

  I try to speak again, but the dream is fading. I’m sucked away from the desert and the rivers of color, and back into blackness.

  “What’s wrong with him?” This new voice is curious, but compassionate.

  “I don’t know. This has happened twice now.” Viznir’s voice sounds tired.

  I pry open an eyelid and see a face staring at me. I recognize the wrinkles around the eyes of Harrison Wabash.

  “Ah. He’s coming around.”

  I blink and notice that I’ve been propped against a tree. The Admiral is a few feet away reading a compass and consulting his map.

  Wabash puts a hand to my forehead. “You feeling all right, sport?”

  I nod and clear my throat. “Yeah, must have gotten a little dizzy there.”

  Viznir shakes his head. I attempt to get up but Wabash holds my shoulder and presses me back. “Just sit there a minute. Your guide here says you’re having some trouble staying conscious.”

  “Yeah. Something like that.” I squirm a little under his direct gaze.

  “What are you seeing?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When you’re unconscious. What do you see?”

  “Oh. Different things. Dreams.”

  Wabash narrows his eyes. “Do they feel like dreams or do they feel like memories?”

  “They’re nowhere I’ve ever been before. So dreams, I guess.” I rub my face and then remember the vision I had about Charlie. “Well, I had one that I recognized later.”

  “Later?”

  “Yeah. It’s just dreams, though.” I look to the left and jolt away. “Whoa! Sorry. Didn’t see you there.” The forest-green figure of the alien is looming over me. His tattooed skin blends with the backdrop of woods beyond him. This is the closest I’ve ever been to him and I try my best not to stare.

  “Hello, Benjamin Travers.” The alien’s voice is deep with a slightly gravelly quality. “My name is Mooruvio Jasoon Bozzlestitch, but you may call me Bozzle.”

  “Hey . . . Bozzle.”

  He inclines his head politely and crosses his arms. The tattoos on his arms involve what look like dragon or fish scales, but I can’t be sure if those aren’t just part of his skin. A figure of a tiger/demon creature wraps one forearm while another monstrous looking deity adorns his right. The angry looking figures are offset by what appear to be flowers. It makes me wonder if they are creatures or plants from his home world.

  I turn my attention back to Wabash. He’s still staring at me intently. “Benjamin, based on the symptoms Viznir has described, you may want to consider the possibility that your dreams are trying to tell you something.”

  “How? Is that normal?”

  Wabash frowns. “Normal is a tricky word, but I’ll say it’s not unheard of. I spent a fair amount of time as a field medic and there have been instances where I’ve run across other time travelers who suffered from something similar. The consciousness of a time traveler can be a little different than that of regular people. It’s not as linear. Not as confined in its memory.”

  “What does that mean for me?”

  “I suppose you’ll have to learn that for yourself. You need to figure out if you’re dreaming or if you’re remembering. And if you’re remembering the future, it might not hurt to pay attention.”

  “Does this happen to you? Can you dream the future?”

  Wabash frowns. “I think we all can. There are theories out there that suggest everyone does. Not just time travelers. Most people just don’t pay much attention to their dreams.” He scratches at his chin. “But yours seem to be demanding your attention more aggressively if they are coming on while you’re awake.”

  “Why am I blacking out from them?”

  “Not sure. But you’ll want to be careful. A chronothon’s not a safe place to be losing consciousness.” Wabash pushes off his knees and stands as the Admiral walks over.

  “Let’s get moving, Harrison. We’ve finally reached a world where our skills will be paramount.” The Admiral gives me a curt nod. “Better health to you, Mr. Travers. And good luck.” The duo continues down the path. The alien moves in front of me and seems to be considering my face.

  “If you would like markings of a better quality, I have some skill at my disposal. I have never marked a human face, but I have done other parts with success.” He bows gravely and follows the Admiral and Wabash.

  I look at Viznir. “What is he talking about?”

  Viznir rummages in his pack, then tosses me a round hand mirror.

  It takes me a few seconds to realize what I’m looking at because it’s backwards, but then I make out the slurs and insults that have been written across my forehead. There is also a drawing of something indecent on my cheek. “Damn it, Viznir! You let them draw on me?”

  Viznir is unapologetic. “I kept the big blonde guy from urinating on you. So, you’re welcome.”

  I get to my feet and try to wipe my face with my shirtsleeve. I frown at the lack of results in the mirror and then try using my chronometer. I do a two second jump using a tree branch, but when I reappear, Viznir shakes his head. I check the mirror and the markings are still there. They must have used a pen they brought with them. The idea of Horacio and Donny gloating over my unconscious body makes my blood boil, but there’s nothing to be done about it. I pick up my pack from next to the tree where I’d been lying, then start down the path.

  “Who else saw me like this?”

  “The two black guys who shot up Rome came through after us. They didn’t pay much attention. Then you got drawn on by your friends from the latrine. The women we saw in Egypt came after that.”

  “Ariella? What did she say?”

  “She didn’t say anything. She just laughed.”

  Damn it.

  “Anybody else?”

  “Yeah. The Ivans and the two Academy guys.”

  “Tad and Blaine.”

  “Yeah, them. Then the four you just saw.”

  “How four?”

  “The Admiral and the alien plus their guides.”

  “I’ve never seen a guide with the alien. I thought he was going solo.”

  “Just because you didn’t see him, doesn’t mean he wasn’t there.”

  I ponder this while we walk. “Is his guide invisible?”

  “No. I think he’s just really small. Could be a she actually. Or maybe an it. I’m not really sure. He has a guide, though. The name is on the list. Sooka something. Or something Sooka. I can’t remember.”

  “Weird. No sign of Jettison or Genesis?”

  “No, not yet.”

  Viznir and I step out from under the shade of the trees and onto a narrow, rocky beach. I make straight for the water’s edge, dropping my pack into the sand just prior to the high waterline. I scoop up water and a little sand and scrub at my face. The gentle waves lap over my shoes, but I ignore them, as I plan to dry off by time travel again anyway. After a minute of diligent scrubbing, I consult Viznir’s mirror again to see if I’ve erased the graffiti. It takes a couple more attempts before I’m satisfied that I’ve gotten it all.

  Viznir has uploaded our trea
sure map and is running a translation program on the cursive script when I get back to him. I pull Charlie’s compass from my pocket and orient us to the compass rose on the map. After a moment’s consultation, I look up and point across the water. “The island we need to get to for the repository is out there, but our objective is somewhere north around the point. Once we get it, we’ll have to get over there somehow.”

  The water is turning from purples to black as it gets farther from the shore. The sky is showing a few planets and bright stars as the last light of the day drains from the atmosphere. Off in the distance I can just make out a dark mass on the horizon.

  “It doesn’t look too terribly far, but much farther than we can swim. Unless we train some sea birds to drop anchors over there, we’ll definitely need a boat.”

  “The game designers will have something in mind. I’m guessing we’ll find a method if we search long enough.”

  “All right. This way then.” I trudge through the sand toward a rocky outcropping that’s jutting out at the north end of the beach. A couple different sets of footprints in the sand have gone the same direction. When we get to the rocks, I immediately climb onto one and use it as an anchor to dry off. Next, I rummage through my pack and retrieve my flashlight and shine it at the pile of boulders, searching for the best path through.

  We scramble up and gain the top without incident. I click my flashlight off and take in the view on the far side. The land falls away beyond the rocks as the waves flow into a sheltered cove. Two hundred yards to the right, the beach resumes in a half moon curve. This beach is occupied. A bonfire is burning in a ring halfway to the tree line. Dark figures are silhouetted against it. Another figure is standing near the bow of a wooden dinghy that’s been dragged beyond the high waterline. The figure is staring out at the three-masted wooden ship lying at anchor in the cove. The ship’s sails are furled, and it rocks gently in the waves.

  “Oh good. That makes more sense. Our objective isn’t underwater. It must be on that ship.” I watch the waves gliding past the ship’s stern. Even in the fading light, it’s a thing of beauty. “That’s a sweet ride. That’s either a corvette or a little sloop of some kind. Looks like something from the 1700s.”