Lost In Time

by W M Wiltshire

  Eddie had been in the Foster Care system since he was five-years-old. That was when he had lost both his parents in a terrible car accident on their way home from a party one stormy winter’s night. His life had been turned upside down in a matter of seconds when the police had come and told him the news. Learning that he had no living relatives who could take care of him, the police immediately delivered him to the local child care authorities. When old enough, he had left his last foster family late one night, and had been taking care of himself ever since. Until two months ago, that is, when he was hacking into a convenience store’s ATM and was caught by Richard.

  “I have a little job for you,” Richard sneered. He had known he had a good thing when he caught Eddie breaking into the ATM. Richard had stood in an obscure corner of the store and watched the young man. He was immediately impressed by the self-made gadgets the kid pulled out of his pockets, all designed to access the cash in the machine. He would have succeeded, too, if Richard hadn’t grabbed him and hauled him away. So far, the kid hadn’t disappointed him.

  “See this little box?” Richard asked, holding up the small metal chest he had taken from Quinn’s lab. “I need you to open it.”

  “Why don’t you open it yourself?” Eddie said defiantly, seated comfortably in his desk chair.

  Before the pain could register, Eddie found himself sprawled on the floor, his overturned chair beside him. He had not seen the abrupt backhand slap coming his way.

  “Because, smartass, it has a very special lock. Open it!” Richard demanded, as he pitched the small box onto Eddie’s chest. “Buzz me when you’re done.”

  Richard stormed out of the room, locking the door behind him. He made his way to his office where he poured himself a stiff drink.

  Richard knew he had to get back into Quinn’s lab to get access to his work. But Richard would need a distraction first, something to draw Quinn’s attention away from the lab. What would possibly bring Quinn out of his lab? Richard thought deviously. He took another deep belt from his glass when an idea struck him. A sinister smile edged across his pencil-thin lips. Tomorrow: all he had to do was make one quick phone call.

  The pure genius of it, he thought.