Biding Time- the Chestnut Covin

by E W Barnes

  A kiss that would never be forgotten.

  ◆◆◆

  She woke in Caelen’s arms. The library was dark though the twilight of dawn was glowing under the curtains. She got up carefully and slowly; carefully to not wake Caelen, and slowly because her ribs still ached.

  She dressed silently in the dark standing next to the control panel, putting on the clothes she had worn when they left 1940. Caelen had placed the remote in its slot on the control panel and she slipped it into her pocket.

  As quietly as she could, she programed the temporal amplifier for 1933, five minutes before the previous shift. She would go wherever Kevin had gone, follow him, stop the rapid shift anomaly, and correct the timeline. This was the last chance.

  She looked at Caelen once and then pressed the button. The library shimmered away to be replaced by… the library. She bent her head to look at the control panel. She must have programmed it incorrectly... but the control panel was not there. The bookcases - and the temporal amplifier - were gone.

  There was a soft sound behind her and then a familiar voice.

  “Welcome. I have been expecting you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Your 1940s outfit is a little forward-thinking for this era, and you should be able to blend in with the folks in this time frame.”

  Lloyd Quill took a draw on his cigar, his mouth smiling, his eyes cold.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “This is my safe house and has been for years. It will be for years, too, until your grandmother sniffs me out and takes over the house. Well, that won’t happen now, will it?” He shook his head in mock sadness. “So very tragic, another victim of the Nazis, wasn’t she?”

  “You set her up. You knew there would be a bomb there. You murdered her.”

  “Well, yes. That was the whole point, wasn’t it?”

  “What about Kevin? Did you plan for him to die, too? Is that how you reward your partners?

  “Oh Kevin, always her stalwart defender. She may have been stubborn and intractable, and he was just her big dumb guard dog. Heh, like a human German Shepard.”

  “I don’t understand. Kevin worked with you. He made all the time shifts. You told him to kill us in 1962, and he tried to kill me in my apartment.”

  “Well, yes, that was the new and improved Kevin.”

  “New and improved. He was different, you made him different. The fire… the fire that killed his family. You changed his past, and he was no longer the same man.”

  “Well reasoned. Oh, yes, it was much easier to work with the bitter, frightened man he became after being orphaned.”

  “And then you killed him for his trouble.”

  “The attraction to Rose was much more powerful than we realized, even for the changed man he was. I could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice. He was swaying, leaning away. We had to stop it.”

  “I still don’t understand. What were you trying to do? Why all the changes in the timeline? Why cause a rapid shift anomaly? Why kill them, and me, and all my family?”

  He shook his head. “Your grandmother left you woefully in the dark, didn’t she,” he said with a sigh. In another room of the house, a clock chimed 5:00 p.m.

  He gestured to a chair. “This will take time to explain. Why don’t you have a seat?”

  Watching him warily, Sharon sat in a stiff winged-back chair as Lloyd sat in its twin across from her.

  “I believe your first question was regarding what we are trying to do?” He articulated each word patronizingly. “Well, obviously, we were trying to change the timeline in our favor. What would be in our favor, you would ask. A timeline in which the Chestnut Covin would prevail.”

  “How does making the Soviet Union stronger in the 20th century help the Chestnut Covin?”

  “If you knew your history better, it would make perfect sense.” He sat back with the air of a professor preparing to lecture.

  “After the collapse of the Soviet Union, the Russians tried to enter the world of capitalism. But they were decades behind the west, even behind China which adopted capitalistic reforms in the 1970s.

  “Instead of developing international capitalist businesses, it was oligarch billionaires who influenced, coerced, and ultimately ran the government. Imagine a mix of capitalism and feudalism with access to former soviet intelligence and military experience.

  “They were powerful, but not respected; feared, but not included as legitimate players on the world stage. And when the time came for history-making decisions, they were not strong enough to influence them.

  “It was the heirs to those oligarchs who disagreed with Temporal Policy Committee convened by the world government to set the policies for time travel. When they could not change the policies, they opted to change history.

  “Offering the Soviet Union proof of Hitler’s duplicity and plans to invade enabled it to prevent the invasion and a terrible loss of life and resources. The eastern front opened much earlier, and the Soviet Union emerged from the war in by far the strongest position of the Allied nations.

  “Providing superior solar technology allowed the Soviets to win the race to the moon, garnering world-wide acclaim and respect, and reducing the influence of the United States. Getting the specs for a global fax system propelled the Soviets into capitalism a decade earlier, giving them a leg-up with superior technology.”

  “And allowing them to attend the 1984 Olympics not as pariahs but as world leaders,” Sharon murmured.

  “And when the time came, those same world leaders controlled the Temporal Policy Committee and the Temporal Protection Corps. The rapid shift anomaly was necessary so that the TPC did not see what was happening until too late.”

  “That’s not true. My grandmother saw what was happening.”

  “Funny how she could see in her, ah, domesticated retirement in the 20th century what the entire Temporal Protection Corps did not. It is why she had to be eliminated. So sorry, my dear. You and your family are merely collateral damage.” He took a long draw on his cigar and then laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You are, my dear. You would be collateral damage in this nefarious plot if you were actually here.”

  “What do you mean, if I was actually here? I am here!”

  “Oh, my dear, none of this is real. Time traveling grandparents! How ridiculous. And you know that - you’ve known from the start of this… adventure. No, you are in the same facility as your mother, suffering from the same form of dementia. It is genetic, I am afraid. And this,” he gestured to the room they sat in. “This is all a delusion.”

  “No, that’s not true….”

  “Occam’s Razor, my dear. You know, that famous scientific idea that the simple answer is usually the right one? What is more likely? Time travel or mental illness. You and I both know the answer to that question.”

  Sharon shrank away from Lloyd shaking her head.

  “It is not possible. I know I have traveled in time.”

  “No, you don’t know, you just believe you have. What a wonderful way to escape the pain in your life: Your infant niece’s death, your sister’s illness, your brother’s failures, your mother’s absence, and losing your beloved grandparents. Just time travel away from it all! Go on an adventure with a handsome man, face the villain, and save the world! How wonderful. Too bad it has all been happening in your mind.”

  Sharon looked around her in agitation. What if he was telling the truth? What if her worst fears had come to pass, and she was trapped in delusions as her mother had been? She was overwhelmed with the urge to get up, to get away. She needed to leave this house.

  “May I use the restroom?” Her voice shook.

  Lloyd glanced at his watch and smiled.

  “You cannot leave, my dear. It would be too dangerous. Think of where the delusion has led you - from a garbage dumpster, to a dangerous riot, to your grandfather holding you at gunpoint, to a Nazi bomb dropped feet from you. The next level of your de
lusion may very well result in your death. No, it is better to stay here where you are protected.”

  Sharon smirked unconvincingly and went into the bathroom. She sat on the toilet, bending over holding her arms around her, rocking back and forth.

  It could not be true. This was worse than the fear of disappearing from history. To have one’s body wither away after the mind had fled would be a kind of hell.

  Her mouth was dry, and her head throbbed. The ache in her ribs was persistent and her rapid heartbeat seemed to dance against the bruises sending jolts of dull pain around her chest. The clock chimed again, the Westminster Quarters telling her it was 5:15 p.m. Five-fifteen, midnight, what difference did it make in a delusion?

  In a flash she saw it. She understood his plan, and what Lloyd was trying to do. The earthquake and the resulting fire that killed Kevin’s family had occurred at 5:54 p.m. Lloyd was stalling, trying to keep her in the house so she would not interfere. Once the earthquake and fire happened, she couldn’t correct the timeline. She would cease to exist. And she had just over 30 minutes to stop it.

  ◆◆◆

  She paced the bathroom in relief and panic. How to get out of the house? The bathroom window was too small to climb through, and she suspected Lloyd had weapons at his disposal to stop her from leaving.

  “Would you like tea, my dear?” Lloyd’s voice was right outside the door.

  She had an idea.

  “Uh, yes, please.”

  She waited until she was sure he was in the kitchen and crept out of the bathroom. In the library she dropped to her knees to locate the all but invisible seam of the crawlspace. She climbed inside and closed the door. It was completely dark, the seam melding with the wall and no light came through. She waited.

  She heard Lloyd come back into the study and set down what she guessed was a tray with the tea. He walked to the bathroom and when he knocked, the door must have opened because the next thing she heard was a muffled curse.

  The sound of fast steps to the front door and then throughout the house vibrated through the walls of the crawlspace, now nearer, now farther away. Then he was in the hall outside the library again.

  “This is Lloyd. She has escaped. I don’t know how. All the windows and doors are sealed, and the alarms would have gone off if she tried to open them. Perhaps she used a portable interface unit to return to her time.”

  A voice answered him, but she could not understand what the other speaker was saying.

  “Yes. Yes. I understand. I will not fail.”

  Quiet. Then Lloyd spoke again.

  “Damn it.”

  She heard his footsteps walking away from the library, a sound like electronic chirps and then a door slamming. There was the sound of a car engine and then quiet.

  She waited five minutes in the dark until she was certain she was alone. She felt around for the latch that would open the door from inside the crawlspace, locating it as a small depression next to the seam. The door swung open and Sharon crawled out.

  She was free to leave, but she didn’t know where to go. When she had shifted with Caelen, they had waited for Kevin and then followed him. She had no one to follow and did not know where her grandfather’s childhood home was.

  A desk stood against the opposite wall. She pushed open the roll top and rifled through papers left on the desk surface and tucked into small cubicles. She pulled out bills, letters, and old newspapers, and nothing to give her a clue where to go.

  “Ok, you can do this,” she said to herself.

  She closed her eyes and pictured the article. A photo. The burned house next to an orchard. The house had been across from a newly built school. The school - that was it. She knew where there was a school which would have been new in 1933.

  The clock chimed 5:30. She would have to run.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The sturdy 1940s shoes were not designed for running and on her left foot she could feel a hot spot that would soon turn into a blister. The early March weather was cool, and she was soon perspiring in the scratchy wool pants. The jacket she shed almost as soon as she had left the house, draping it onto a well-manicured bush next to the sidewalk.

  It was her ribs that slowed her down the most. After two blocks they were burning with pain and it did not get better the longer she ran. She was gasping and thought she would not make it. The pain was too intense. She did not have the energy. The house would burn and the Chestnut Covin would win.

  Unbidden images flashed across her mind. Her brother’s face filled with bitterness, devoid of hope. The gray face of Pete. A small pink casket. No. These things must not happen. She pressed the heel of her palm into her ribs to ease the ache and pushed herself forward.

  It was hard, by far the hardest thing she had ever done. All she could focus on was the rhythm of her legs, the gasping of her breath, and the burn in her ribs.

  A bell sounded, loud, deep, and resonant. A town clock. It was 5:45. She had less than 10 minutes before the earthquake struck.

  A strong, sweet scent brought her to a halt. Another vision came to her. It was of a dream, the memory of a dream of running through an orchard with white flowers. The orange orchard she could now see a block ahead of her. She knew from the dream that the house was on the other side and she could save time if she cut through it.

  The orange blossoms around her were fragrant, the perfume surrounded her, and its intensity forced the pain in her ribs to the back of her mind. She was running between rows of trees and she could see the house in the distance. Soon she was leaving the orchard, veering around the side of the house, and up the walk. She did not knock and, finding the door unlocked, burst in, the urgency of her message more important than social niceties.

  “Everyone needs to get out, now!” She gasped the words, taking deep breaths, clutching her ribs.

  A family was sitting at the dining room table just starting dinner. While her entrance startled them, they did not appear frightened by her. They didn’t move or respond to her.

  “Come on, you have to leave!” She took a few more steps into the house. At this, the man of the house who had been facing her at the head of the table stood up.

  “Who are you?” A woman came out of the kitchen, carrying a pitcher of water. She stopped when she saw Sharon. She looked like Sharon’s mother.

  “Young lady, I think you are in the wrong house. May I help you?” The man stepped around the table towards her with a friendly and concerned expression.

  “You need to get out of this house, now,” she said, still trying to catch her breath, each word coming out raggedly. “There is going to be an earthquake. The house will burn!”

  “What are you talking about?” a boy asked her. He had dark hair and smiling eyes, and while the others around the table were looking at her with alarm, he was watching her with curiosity.

  “You are Kevin, aren’t you?” The boy looked taken aback, and his mother smiled.

  “Do you know Kevin from school? Are you one of his teachers?”

  “No, I… I am trying to save you, save you all.” She didn’t think about how hard getting the family to believe her might be. Her ribs throbbed again. “You must leave,” she said again as the family continued to watch her.

  There was a low growl, like thunder that rumbled softly and then more loudly. The walls and floors rattled, and the smaller children cried out.

  Now the family was moving, pushing away from the table, chairs falling to the floor, each stumbling towards the open door.

  “No! Stop!”

  Sharon’s shout halted them. The man, her great-grandfather, looked angry.

  “You said the house will burn! We have to get out!”

  “Things will fall during the earthquake; you might get hit. We need to wait until the shaking stops.” Her ribs ached as they tried to keep her balance and she could barely talk. “Stay away from the windows, too.”

  The warning was unnecessary as the family huddled around each other in the living room
, but Kevin’s curiosity was still in his eyes, as if he would like nothing more than to look out the window and watch the world rock.

  He was about to defy her warning and then, as the floor undulated once more under their feet, thought better of it and stepped closer to his mother.

  Finally, the rumbling and shaking stopped. Sharon pointed at the door, almost shut with the rolling of the house.

  “Now we need to leave, quickly.”

  “But the shaking is over,” a small girl said.

  “There could be a fire, we need to be sure,” Sharon said and looked at her great-grandfather. “The gas lines.” He nodded in sudden understanding.

  “Go outside everyone,” he said calmly but firmly to his family. “Go stand in the orchard, just until we’re sure it’s safe.”

  The family trooped outside, coming to a halt under the first row of trees. Some of their neighbors were also standing outside their homes. There were shouts in the distance, but the local neighborhood was quiet now that the shaking had subsided.

  Sharon followed the family to the orchard. Her great-grandfather spoke to her great-grandmother.

  “Keep them here while I turn off the gas.” He walked to a small workshop behind the house where he kept his tools, Sharon guessed.

  The sun was dropping below the roof of the house, and the back of the house was now in shadow.

  Soft petals were still drifting to the ground, and the two girls were picking them up, smelling them and tucking them into each other’s hair.

  “How did you know?”

  Her great-grandmother pitched her voice low so that the laughing girls did not overhear.

  “I can’t say how I knew. I am just glad you are all ok.” She smiled at the girls and then realized Kevin was not with them.

  “Where is Kevin?”

  “He went with his father to help,” her great-grandmother smiled. “Boys love to learn at their fathers’ knees.”

  Sharon smiled in return, and her anxiety was growing. This wasn’t over.