Borrowed Time

by Keith Hughes

  Ness kept his speed up, rapidly pulling away, then a flash of light from behind caught his eye. The side door of the van had slid aside, and Glenn stood in the opening, firing into the shattered window of the police car. Blood blossomed inside the cruiser’s windshield, and the patrol vehicle drifted away from the van.

  Ness ground his teeth as he contemplated the officer’s life, the third he had watched Glenn end. He did not have time to grieve for the unknown victim. The road curved ahead, and he had more traffic to dodge. As he negotiated the bend in the freeway, Ness lost sight of the van. The Southfield Road exit just ahead was his best shot at losing his hunters, and he shot across the road, trying to ascend the ramp before the van came back into view.

  At the speed he was traveling, the distance to the Southfield Road light appeared to be almost nothing. Ness had to brake hard as he ascended from the sunken highway to the surface roads. His luck held out, providing him with no traffic ahead and a green light, but he still squealed his tires in a long left turn. He kept his speed above the speed limit, his eyes on the skyscrapers standing a half mile along the road. Furtive glances behind did not show the van continuing its pursuit.

  He turned right, heading toward a set of tall buildings with golden windows which glinted with affluence. He wound his way through a series of residential streets until he finally emerged on another main street with access to the towering edifices. He selected an available parking garage set in the bottom levels of the building and drove through, taking a ticket from the automated machine. In the confines of the structure, he chose a spot entirely out of sight from anyone outside.

  Ness shut off the engine and relaxed. He had successfully led Glenn and the goons away from the apartment, although now he regretted the price. He might have saved his apartment, but an innocent officer had paid for it with his life. Ness briefly considered going back again, giving the whole exercise another try, but the movie The Butterfly Effect came to mind. The protagonist repeatedly attempted to use time travel to make a positive change, but each time, unforeseen circumstances created a new reality worse than the last.

  Ness sighed. No, I won’t try again. But my hands are as covered with the officer’s blood as Glenn’s.

  The engine ticked as it slowly cooled from its mighty exertions. Ness patted the dashboard before exiting the vehicle. He locked the car then looked around. Alone and out of view of any security cameras, Ness took out the PDA. Turning it on, he saw many hours left of his borrowed time, but he’d achieved his goal and had no reason to linger. He pressed the button to return to his home time, where he could hopefully put the whole ordeal far behind him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: Homecoming

  Thursday, September 11, 2008 5:32 a.m.

  Ness sensed a difference in his home time, an odd phenomenon he could not put into words, even to himself. He simply “fit” better, as if he possessed an instinctive sense of coming back to where and when he belonged. His return to the parking garage in the early-morning hours through the magic of the time machine produced a satisfied sigh.

  Exhausted, he strode toward the lobby door, examining his memories of the chase with Glenn. Having two different sets overlaid in his head certainly produced a strange experience. In the newer collection, he had rented a motel room first, not far off. There, he had watched the videos and the tutorial with its first jaunt in time. But the credit card transaction had attracted Glenn, and he was running as before. In both memories, he had retreated to the busy confines of Madison Mall, and once there, his twin sets of memories pretty much matched.

  As he approached the door to the lobby itself, Ness noticed in his reflection something had changed. The jeans and hoodie were similar to his original purchases, but instead of the red “Take Off, eh?” shirt, it was blue, with red printing proclaiming, “Jack Bauer for President.” Grinning to himself at this confirmation he had changed things, Ness stood ready to reap the benefits.

  The undamaged door to his apartment held the next clue of his success. He used his key to let himself in, and after turning on the living room lights, he let his eyes roam over the perfection of his undamaged possessions. The couch looked inviting, especially with the stuffing inside the cushions instead of strewn about the floor. His landscapes were back on the walls, the accent lighting bringing the colors to life. All is as it should be.

  Something new interrupted his contented rumination, though. A small table by the door held a decorative bowl where Ness habitually kept his keys. He had been in the process of dropping them in when he noticed the bowl held an unexpected item. Inside sat a gold ring, a perfect circle gleaming in the light. Ness picked it up, puzzled by its presence. He recognized its style as a basic wedding band.

  What is this doing here? He could see some engraving on the inside, but before he could investigate, a voice interrupted him.

  “You left it behind. I assumed you were out tomcatting around.”

  Ness turned at the voice and stood stunned at the vision before him. Angie.

  He could not believe the evidence of his eyes. Angie stood in the hallway—of his apartment. A numbness of disbelief sluiced through his mind.

  She smiled, leaning her shoulder on the wall. She wore pajamas, and as he focused on them, his memory informed him they were her typical choice for this time of year, a thin T-shirt and a pair of loose shorts. Her tousled hair and casual stance only made her more attractive.

  If Angie really believed I had been out tomcatting, she’d be letting me have it about now.

  The notion came to mind unbidden, but his deep knowledge of this woman gave him pause. How well do I know her?

  Again, he looked at the ring, and he suddenly remembered the day she first put in on his finger. Their wedding had happened not long after his graduation from WMU. Disillusioned with the idea of a long-distance relationship once she completed college, Angie eventually got an entry-level IT job in the area. By midterms his first senior semester, she had become his fiancée.

  He experienced a rapid-fire stream of her many emotions. Her tears at the funeral for her mother. The happiness on their honeymoon. Impassioned belief when they discussed various political topics. The occasional bouts of red-hot anger. His memories revealed he knew this woman extremely well and experienced a love of all her many aspects.

  “I wondered when you’d get home.”

  Ness still struggled to figure out how the change had happened. He had royally bungled their only meeting. Then he remembered. During his junior year, he’d awoken after a night of drunkenness to find an unusual message written on the chalkboard in his room. The certainty of the handwriting being his own had threatened to turn his brain inside out. He sat on the edge of his bed, his head hot with pain, reading the words over and over. When she asks, you like coffee.

  And on the fateful day when Angie approached him, those words glowed in his mind. And a simple agreement to her proposal to have a beverage together launched them on the journey toward the rest of their lives. At the time, he still hated the bitter brew, but as they met more and more often, Ness grew to enjoy it, and his love for the woman he shared it with became the primary focus of his life.

  Ness suddenly realized he had been standing mute, soaking in his new past. “I, uh, had to do something for Dr. Bertrand.”

  Her smile brightened. “I know, he called to tell me you might be gone a couple of days.”

  I guess I know another thing the doctor did with his borrowed time.

  “Is it done? What you had to do for Francis?”

  Ness beamed at her easy familiarity with his friend. She had always acceded to the doctor’s request to use his first name, but it had always seemed presumptuous to Ness. “Yes, it’s over.”

  Angie approached to take the ring from where it lay on his palm. Gently taking his hand, she slid it onto his finger. The sensation of completeness the action engendered surprised him, as if the ring and what it represented had become a part of his being, and wit
hout it, his life would be emptier.

  “With this ring, I thee wed.” She gave him an impish grin before leaning against his chest and snaking her arms around him.

  Ness instinctively returned the gesture, holding her against him. Nothing else in his life could ever be so essential. Even his fantasies of embracing her over the years did not compare to the reality. When she turned her head to face him, they shared a kiss as fresh and new as grass after a spring rain.

  “Well, even though I’m only getting up, from the rings under your eyes, I’m guessing you’re ready for bed.”

  “That was my plan.” Ness yawned.

  “Well, I need some coffee. Did you want any before you sack out?”

  Ness kissed her again, something familiar and yet so new, he never wanted to stop.

  “Yes.” Awash in a contented completeness his previous existence as a solitary man had never provided, Ness could only smile. “I would love some coffee.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY: Epilogue

  Saturday, April 18, 2009 11:23 a.m.

  In some places, the dead hold sway, and the living are the intruders. Usually, the deceased suffered visitors with good grace or at least immovable stoicism. Narrow roads twisted between the graves of the departed, as if the cemetery hoped to capture the unwary in its winding byways and increase its population. The thin layer of clouds that gave the day a gray cast was barely enough to obscure the blue sky, but it added to the ambience.

  Ness’s blue Saturn Ion navigated those paths, driving ever deeper before coming to a stop. He and Angie left it behind to travel on foot. The air held the promise of summer after the long winter months. The sounds of vehicles racing along nearby I-75 were loud in Ness’s ears. Angie took his hand, and he gave her a smile, entranced by the sensation of their interlocked fingers. In the months since the events at Intellisys, he had been adjusting to being married. His memories told him he had made this transition before, but the larger part of him saw it as a first-time experience.

  “How are you doing?” He could hear the concern in her voice.

  They approached a dark granite tombstone. The indistinct light of the concealed sun gleamed off its polished surface.

  “I’m okay, just glad this last task is complete.”

  Angie appeared doubtful of his assurance. When they stopped at the grave, she released his hand and snaked her arm around his waist. Ness did the same, pulling her to him. As with every other form of physical contact he had experienced in the last few months, she fit him in every way, a nearly metaphysical sensation. He couldn’t imagine sharing his life with any other woman. His memories of being alone for so many years in his previous reality seemed alien.

  The pale letters on the gravestone caught his gaze. It was his first time seeing the final product. The monument shop had waited out the brutal winter until the ground thawed to place the stone. Unblemished by the weather, its surface was pristine except where the inscriptions were carved.

  Dr. Francis Bertrand

  June 4, 1934 – September 08, 2008

  Visionary, Scientist, Educator, Friend

  A man for whom time had no boundaries.

  Angie broke into his thoughts. “What does the inscription mean?”

  “Back at WMU, he and I spent a lot of time talking about time travel,” Ness explained. “The topic remained one of his professional passions.”

  The many times they’d debated likely outcomes and effects of traveling through time were some of Ness’s best memories, their two minds engaged in a single theoretical pursuit.

  At least it was hypothetical to me.

  Dr. Bertrand had taken those ideas to their practical conclusion and had thrown into motion a series of events which changed both of their lives. Ness had reaped benefits, as attested to by the presence of the woman at his side. He hoped his friend gleaned some pleasure before the end, especially in his planned visit to his wife.

  “I’ll miss him.” Angie sounded sad.

  Ness beamed at her. “Did I ever tell you what Dr. Bertrand told me once about you?”

  “I don’t believe so.”

  “He told me in several ways, you reminded him of his Evelyn.”

  Clearly stunned, she wiped away moisture from her eye. “High praise.”

  Ness agreed silently. His friend never got over the loss of his love, and any favorable comparison to her was rare and precious. The tombstone pulled at him again, and he reread the inscription like a silent mantra.

  Angie’s arm tightened around him, drawing his attention away from the unyielding stone to the softness of her gaze. He gave her a ragged smile and squeezed back. Acting as Bertrand’s executor had been difficult. Angie had assisted him as much as possible, helping where she could and supporting him through the rest. She never complained about the time it took away from his job or her.

  Ness had been surprised to be named to the position, but his former professor had no one else to perform the duty. Accepting it as an honor, he did his best to settle the doctor’s affairs and provide a place for his memory to rest.

  A month after Ness’s raid on the lab, Intellisys released a statement announcing the death of Dr. Bertrand caused by one of his experiments. It claimed there were no bodily remains due to the nature of the technology involved. Intellisys had provided the estate a videotape of the doctor’s demise as proof, but Ness had never watched it. He preferred his last memories of his friend be their meeting in 1986, when he was looking forward to seeing Evelyn. Dr. Bertrand had been at peace with his decision to depart this life, and witnessing his struggle as the technology he invented claimed its fatal toll would serve no useful purpose. Ness had seen more than enough when Glenn imploded.

  Dealing with the doctor’s assets had been straightforward, as his will listed several bequests to charitable and scientific organizations. One of these established a new physics department scholarship at Western Michigan University, ensuring his name would live on for the foreseeable future. They were both surprised by the forty thousand dollars Dr. Bertrand had left to Ness, who’d placed it in a savings account in case they might want a house of their own someday.

  The most surreal part of being executor had been the personal letter of condolence from John Fletcher. Paul’s comments in the lab left no doubt the CEO could not be trusted, but Ness had no evidence to use against him. In the end, Ness had sent back a short note of thanks and hoped to never hear from the CEO of Intellisys again. At the massive memorial service, Ness had managed to avoid meeting him. Fletcher had been at the church, but Ness had stayed to the other side of the crowd of mourners.

  Angie caressed the side of his head, running her fingers through his hair. Ness took her hand in his.

  “I’m going to wait in the car.” Her eyes were awash with love for him and sympathetic understanding. “Take your time.”

  He briefly watched her walk away, always a pleasant experience, before facing the grave again. There had been no body to bury here, so the grave contained an empty casket. If the doctor’s human form had remained after his dissolution, as far as Ness knew, it had never left Intellisys. Dr. Bertrand had bought the plot years ago, and Ness believed in the importance of having a public place to memorialize his friend. The gravestone had been left to Ness, allowing him to add the inscription, which truly only made sense to him and the doctor. Should his perambulations through time ever bring him to his own graveside, Dr. Bertrand would appreciate the inside joke.

  Ness took the doctor’s invention, the PDA, from his pocket and looked at the sheen of its polished metal surface. He had not used it since returning home to find Angie there. His present had been perfected, his future appealing, and Ness had no desire to go mucking with any of it. Nonetheless, he kept the PDA as a remembrance of Dr. Bertrand if nothing else. The pain of his loss remained too fresh for Ness to consider destroying the powerful device.

  He would hardly admit the possibility to himself, but Ness hoped he might yet see his frien
d again someday. Only a few of Bertrand’s twenty-four hours were accounted for, and Ness had no way of knowing where else he might have visited before his time expired. If the possibility existed that they might meet again somewhere in time, Ness could focus on that hope instead of dwelling on his grief.

  Ness ran his fingertips over the polished surface of the stone, which still held some of the night’s chill. His friend could be anywhere or any-when, but the grave gave his memory a place of permanence. He considered the PDA his personal memorial to Dr. Bertrand, one whose significance no one else would truly comprehend. Ness sensed his friend would be pleased he would keep it safe.

  The time for mourning is over.

  Ness crossed the fresh spring grass to the car. Angie smiled at him from the passenger seat, and he couldn’t help but return it. Their futures were bound together, and he would travel there with her, one second at a time.

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  The Timehunt Series

  Timehunt: Borrowed Time

  Timehunt: Stolen Time (Coming 2019)