‘I see,’ Sam said. ‘And I thought I wasn’t supposed to be a human guinea pig.’
Fairview chuckled again, his round shoulders bouncing. ‘Looks like you’ve got me there. Why don’t you relax and wait for the drug to take effect? I’ll come back to check on you in a couple of minutes and we can give it another try.’
He left the room and returned to the main laboratory.
Sam let out a slow breath, feeling the muscles in his back loosen, and swallowed. In spite of the water he could still taste the pill in his mouth, gluey and harsh. He glanced about. The walls were tinged with subtle shades of pink and yellow. A warm tingle danced up his spine. The door opened and Fairview came back in, carrying a cloth cap covered in evenly spaced holes with wires poking out. Sam blinked and suddenly Fairview was frozen in mid-step, his entire weight supported on the ball of his back foot and his front foot hovering just above the floor. He blinked again and Fairview inched forwards, the movement jerky and mechanical. It was the way Sam had seen things during his fits in hospital, but without the terror of being locked in his own body.
‘How do you feel now?’ Fairview asked.
‘Good,’ Sam said. ‘I mean really good. It’s starting to work, I think.’
‘Excellent.’ Fairview held the strange hat out. ‘This is an electroencephalography cap, also known as an EEG. We’ll use it to monitor your brain wave activity during the test. Mind popping it on for me?’
‘Okey dokey,’ Sam said and laughed. It seemed that the attempts to limit the drug’s side effects had not been entirely successful.
Fairview took a tube of gel from his pocket, squeezed a drop onto the end of each electrode and pulled the cap over Sam’s head. ‘I’ll be monitoring the readings from the next room,’ he said. ‘Remember, both doors open automatically after sixty seconds, so just try to relax and focus on what’s about to come.’
He restarted the programme and left, taking up a position at a computer terminal on the other side of the glass panel in the wall. Sam grinned and waved, catching sight of his own reflection in the glass. Fairview gave the thumbs up, so Sam gripped the joysticks and tried to concentrate on taking long, slow breaths.
The doors on the screen remained closed. Sam glanced back at Fairview, but he only circled his finger, leaving Sam with the familiar feeling that he was watching images played under a strobe light. Every separate instant was like a drawing on a page of a flipbook; motionless in itself. It was only when the pages began to turn that the illusion of movement was created.
He closed his eyes and focused on skimming through the pages to the point when both doors would open. Without warning, an image popped into his head. Both doors swung open, with the smiley face behind the left and the skull and crossbones behind the right.
Sam opened his eyes to find that both doors were still closed, so he cautiously pressed the button on the left, ready to snatch his hand away. A fanfare sounded and the smiley face was revealed behind Door 1, just as he’d seen it. The counter in the corner turned over to 01 again.
Sam breathed a sigh of relief as the doors closed. Feeling slightly more confident, he shut his eyes again and scanned forward through the pages. Another image jumped into his mind’s eye, and this time he saw the smiley face behind Door 2. He opened his eyes to see that both doors were still closed, so pressed the right-hand button. The fanfare sounded again and the counter rolled over to 02.
On his next go the smiley face was behind the right door again, and after that the left. Every time that Sam closed his eyes he saw what was going to happen a minute down the line, and every time he reopened them to find the smiley face waiting in the same place.
After the sixth correct attempt any sense of uncertainty was gone. This was easy, Sam decided. It was more than just guessing; he actually knew what was behind each door before pressing the button. He loosened his grip on the joysticks, no longer afraid of being stung, and kept going, pressing the buttons over and over, faster and faster, revealing smiley face after smiley face.
By the time the counter reached 25, Sam had the sensation of a drill bit grinding through his skull. He looked through the window into the lab, but Fairview only raised his eyebrows and gestured for him to continue. Sam turned back to the screen, wishing he could take a break.
On attempt twenty-nine he felt his concentration slipping. When he closed his eyes he saw both doors open, but before he had time to spot which hid the smiley face, they closed again. Instead of opening his eyes and returning to the present, Sam blundered several pages further forward. Suddenly he saw himself standing between McHayden and Steele in the lift. He let out a startled cry and opened his eyes, only to find himself back in the chair, facing a screen with two closed doors and no idea which hid the smiley face.
Shaking his head, he pressed down lightly on the right button, then changed his mind and pressed the left. There was a buzz and pain shot up his arm. He jumped out of the chair and ripped the cap from his head.
Fairview hurried back into the room. ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked. ‘Why did you stop?’
‘I’ve had it with this stupid game,’ Sam said, rubbing his hands over his scalp. ‘Dr McHayden told me I’d be doing important work, but so far all you’ve done is wire me up to this stupid machine and electrocute me. Is this how you get your kicks?’
‘Now hold on just a―’
‘Forget it,’ Sam said. ‘Where’s Dr McHayden? I want to go home.’
4
Sam’s headache felt much worse as he sat in the back of the car with his arms folded over his chest. The drilling sensation had grown to a steady thump, like a sledgehammer against the back of his head, and his mood worsened as they retraced their route through the woods and back onto the road.
After a while McHayden turned to him. ‘Penny for your thoughts?’
‘You what?’ Sam said.
‘Never mind. It’s something my mother used to say, but then again I didn’t like her much. What’s on your mind?’
He shifted in his seat. ‘Today was a total, utter disaster.’
She gave him a long, steady look that was on the verge of becoming uncomfortable when she broke it with a smile. ‘On the contrary,’ she said, ‘I would describe today as a resounding success.’
‘A success? How do you figure? Mr Fairview said the game was supposed to improve my control, but it all went wrong and I got stung in the end. How’s that a success?’
‘My dear boy, while the random chance generator has undoubted benefits in training you to travel more accurately over short periods of time, the primary purpose was to scientifically verify your ability, and you did that with aplomb.’
‘Even though I got electrocuted?’
‘That was after you had selected the correct door on twenty eight consecutive occasions,’ she said. ‘The probability of achieving such a score by chance alone is in the region of two hundred and fifty million to one. Furthermore, readouts from the EEG showed massive spikes in your neurological activity before you selected each door. This not only proves the validity of your ability, but the effectiveness of Tetradyamide in inducing and stabilising your episodes. I think we can safely call that a success, don’t you?’
‘Well, when you put it like that…’
‘This evidence will go a long way to confirming the importance of our work to my superiors and gaining continued funding for the next stage of our trials. You should feel proud of yourself, Sam.’
5
By the time they pulled up outside his house, Sam’s headache had begun to ease. McHayden placed a hand on his arm as he went to climb from the car. ‘A quick word of warning before you go,’ she said. ‘Although you may not still feel it, the drug will be in your system for several hours yet. In no circumstance should you attempt to manipulate time unless under my direct supervision. Any changes you make in the past could have consequences in the present and, believe me, these might not always work out how you intend.’
‘Okay,’ Sam sai
d. He stepped from the car, then thought of something and turned back. ‘Dr McHayden?’
‘Yes.’
‘You just said about making changes in the past. What about my parents? What if I could change what happened to them?’
She sucked air through her teeth. ‘At the moment you need to focus on mastering your ability in a controlled environment. Remember what we’re doing this for, Sam. You have a responsibility far beyond your personal desires, no matter how honourable they might be.’
‘But―’
‘No buts. I need you to promise me that you won’t do anything foolish. The future of the Tempus Project depends upon it.’
He faced her for a moment and then nodded. Nothing could be more important than saving his parents, but at the moment McHayden was Sam’s only hope of achieving that.
6
To call the last few months of Eva’s life a rollercoaster would be the understatement of the millennium. A closer analogy might be that of a rollercoaster that hasn’t been safety checked in fifty years, with seatbelts worn to a loose collection of threads, jutting nails, rusted brakes and tracks rotted to the consistency of sponge cake.
On the night of her party, Trent had led Eva to her bedroom, where what began as a quick kiss had soon turned into his hands all over her body. It wasn’t as if she was against the idea of sex, just that in her head she had always imagined her first time would be romantic, something special, not some hurried fumble with a houseful of guests downstairs. She had told him to stop, but Trent wouldn’t listen, and all of a sudden his touch wasn’t gentle anymore. Eva had found herself struggling against him, but he was too strong. She’d lashed out with all her strength, catching him square on the jaw with her elbow. Trent’s head had twisted sharply to the side, his body contorting as he toppled from the bed. He’d cried out as the bridge of his nose connected with the corner of the bedside table, knocking the lamp to the floor, and then picked himself up and stomped from the room, slamming the door behind him.
The strap of Eva’s dress was torn, so she’d taken a few minutes to change her clothes and reapply her make-up. As she headed back down there was a deafening crash, and she had dashed to the den to find Brandon sitting among the broken pieces of Colette’s coffee table, blood pouring out of his arm.
Enough was enough. Eva had lost her cool and yelled at everyone to get out. After the ambulance had arrived to take Brandon to the emergency room, she had gone to bed, crying herself to sleep with the covers pulled over her head.
The following morning, much to her surprise, Nicole offered to help clean up. As they knelt together sweeping shards of broken glass into a refuse sack, Nicole had told Eva that she’d seen Trent start the fight with Sam, which had led to Brandon falling through the top of the coffee table. If Trent’s behaviour the previous evening had already broken the back of their relationship, this additional piece of information crippled it beyond cure, and the thought of him ever touching her again now made Eva want to puke.
Once the den resembled its previous condition as closely as was possible, Eva checked her phone. It wasn’t even midday yet, but she already had five missed calls, all from Trent. She switched her phone off without listening to her messages and set to work cleaning the kitchen.
Colette still hit the roof when she returned from her weekend at the spa. The coffee table, which Eva had always thought was kind of tasteless, had apparently cost over four thousand dollars. Eva was sent to her room, grounded for a month and had her car privileges revoked and her allowance docked. These were minor inconveniences. What really hurt was having her laptop confiscated, which would reduce her to covert operations in the computer lab at school or on Nicole’s desktop, and neither option was satisfactory for her purposes, since the former involved the total absence of privacy and the latter required bribing her sister. That evening Eva finished her homework and went to bed without dinner.
The next day she left home early and walked to school before Trent stopped by to pick her up. She had missed the reports of the plane crash on the news, but everyone was talking about it because Annabelle Sutter, a sophomore, had an uncle who’d been on the flight that had left Newark just before the one that went down. Eva was able to avoid Trent for most of the morning, giving a wide berth to the areas where he and his friends usually hung out between classes, but he finally caught up with her in the lunch hall and grabbed her by the elbow as she queued with her tray.
‘Where were you this morning?’ he asked. ‘I called by your house.’
Eva shook free from his grip. ‘I walked instead.’
‘Why’d you do that?’
‘Because I didn’t want to share a car with you.’ She turned away, but he grabbed her again and yanked her back. His fingers dug into the flesh of her upper arm. ‘Trent, let go,’ she said. ‘You’re hurting me.’
‘C’mon Eva, don’t tell me you’re still mad about Saturday night.’
‘Mad doesn’t even come close.’
‘Then let me make it up to you.’
‘Let. Me. Go!’ she said, raising her voice. ‘I don’t want you anywhere near me.’
‘You’re not going anywhere unless I say so.’ Trent’s grip grew stronger. By tomorrow a ring of bruises would no doubt surface on her arm. ‘You’re my girl, Eva, and unless I say otherwise that’s the way it’s staying.’
‘You really want to do this now, here in the lunch hall?’
‘Keep your voice down,’ he said. ‘You’re making a scene.’
‘A scene? I’ll show you a scene.’ She twisted to face the tables behind them. ‘Hey everyone, listen! This is a public service announcement! Trent Armitage is nothing but a jumped-up little bully with anger management issues and I’m officially breaking up with him…’ A stunned silence settled over the immediate vicinity. Eva took a breath before continuing. ‘…plus he has a small dick and, ladies take it from me, I mean a real teenie-weenie.’ She wiggled her pinkie for good measure.
Trent released her arm and took a step back. He looked like he’d been slapped across the face with a wet fish, his mind struggling to make sense of what had just happened. A small giggle broke out nearby and quickly swelled into a torrent of laughter. Trent began to shake, a slight tremor that started in his legs and grew as it worked its way up his body. He raised his fist, and for a second Eva thought he was going to hit her, but instead he brought it down on her tray, knocking it from her hands, and then spun on his heel. A freshman who was half Trent’s size and wearing a sweater probably knitted by the kid’s mother stood in his way. As if to prove Eva’s point, Trent shoved him in the chest and sent him skidding across the floor on his backpack.
It was the first time in Eva’s life that she’d ever stood up to anyone like that. All afternoon it felt as though some previously dormant part of her had awakened and the world was now full of possibility. She passed by Sam’s house on her way home, thinking it odd she hadn’t seen him in any of their classes. Eva hadn’t intended to show him her ledge overlooking the town that weekend – she’d never taken anyone else there before – but it had just kind of happened. Although she scarcely knew him, there was something about Sam that made Eva feel she could trust him, and after what Nicole had told her she felt she owed him an explanation for Saturday night.
When she rang the bell nobody answered, however. Eva pressed again, holding the button down for a full thirty seconds, but still nobody came to the door. She walked around to the living room window. The curtains were drawn, which was strange since it was still light out, so she cupped her hands around her eyes and peeked through a gap. There was no sign of movement and, since the car wasn’t in the drive, Eva assumed the family must be out for the day and walked home.
She dropped her school bag just inside the front door and went through to the kitchen to fix a snack. Doug was at the breakfast bar, a tumbler in one hand and a half-empty bottle of whisky in the other. His tie was loose and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone.
‘You’r
e back early,’ Eva said and opened the fridge.
He looked up with bloodshot eyes. ‘Huh?’
‘I thought daytime drinking was Colette’s speciality.’
‘Something’s happened.’ He drained his glass and refilled it, sloshing whisky all over the counter.
‘You hear about the plane crash?’ Eva asked. She took out a tub of strawberry yoghurt and went to fetch a spoon. ‘Some kid at school has an uncle who was on the flight before. Everyone’s talking about it.’
‘Rebecca Rayner was on that flight.’
‘You mean Sam’s mom?’ she asked, not quite grasping the implication.
‘And Sam and Matthew. Rebecca left a message with the office over the weekend. I only picked it up this morning.’
‘They’re okay though, aren’t they?’
‘I don’t know, sweet pea.’ He shook his head and gazed into his glass. ‘It sounds pretty goddam awful. I don’t think there were any survivors.’
Apart from her paternal grandfather, who had passed away when she was nine years old, Eva had never been close to anyone who had died. She’d seen Sam only two days before. ‘Get out of my house,’ had been her last words to him. At that moment she felt her stomach turn. The yogurt fell from her fingers and she ran to the bathroom to throw up.
* * * * *
Events in Eva’s life spiralled downwards in a rapid manner after that. Doug said it was okay for her to stay home from school the next day, but when she returned two days later the mood among her so-called friends had changed entirely. At lunch, the table Eva usually sat at was suddenly ‘full’ and later, when she saw Kimberly and a few of the girls she was friendly with, they immediately huddled into a small group, snickering as she walked past.
The Pages of Time Page 14
