by Ward Wagher
“Only eight or ten people know about it,” Quintan said. “The people in this room, of course. There are you and the security people. And, of course, the Malthusians.”
“We would add my wife to that,” the paladin said. “David Simpson is the only person in security who really knows what is going on.”
“The Malthusians are not a problem,” Mrs. Wallace said.
Sally looked over at the ruBrack and shivered.
“Oh, they have not been harmed,” the ruBrack said, “although they certainly deserved a painful death. However, we placed them in an exile. They will not return.”
The paladin shook his head. “Such a waste. Okay, we need to dismantle the equipment. I will attend to the data. I am confident we can keep that secure.”
“The Cloud of Witnesses?” Mrs. Wallace asked.
He nodded. “They will keep the knowledge secure and will also become aware of anyone who is researching this area again. And the rest of you need to forget you heard that term.”
“I did have a question for Mrs. Wallace,” Sally said.
“And I will try to answer any reasonable question.”
“How do we prevent any of the parallel universes from stumbling across this technology?”
“Only one other universe has successfully experimented in this area,” Mrs. Wallace said. “And it is no longer a problem. We will work with the other four to distract those people away from this area of research.”
“I dreamed about a very evil place,” Sally said. “It was sad.”
“It was a corrupt place,” Mrs. Wallace said. “So much so that the Maker condemned it. It is no longer.”
“That’s a warning for us, I guess,” the paladin said.
“Oh, the Make will eventually destroy this universe, but he promised to remake it again.”
“I saw that other universe destroy itself, you know,” Sally said quietly. “It was terrifying.”
“The Word said it best when He said that the wages of sin is death,” the ruBrack said.
“Sin is a bad thing,” Shuurely agreed.
§ § §
Cleo and Marla stumbled through the blowing snow. It was very cold and they were not dressed for the weather. Across the clearing Marla spotted what looked like a small lean-to or a cabin.
“This way, Cleo,” she said. “If we do not find shelter we will die out here.”
They managed to pull the rudimentary door open and slip inside. Cleo quickly pulled the door back in place. It was… warmer inside. At one end of the small cabin was a small stone hearth or stove. A low fire burned. They moved across to that end of the single room and held their hands over the warm stone.
“I thought we were going to die out there,” Cleo said.
“We may die, yet,” she replied. “We have no clothes for this weather and no food.”
“Were we dumped here to die?” he asked.
Marla looked around the inside of the little cabin. “I do not know. However, I do not intend to just give up. We will figure out a way to survive. And we have an obligation to deal with the paladin.”
“Do you really think we can get back there, considering the way we traveled?” Cleo asked.
The door rasped open again. Cleo and Marla both jumped and turned around quickly. A plump old lady stomped through the opening and pulled the door closed. She brushed the snow off and turned to face the other two.
“And who might you be?” she glowered.
“Cleo and Marla Malthusian,” Cleo responded. “And who are you?”
“You may call me Mrs. Willow.”
“How did you get here?” Marla asked.
“The same way you did. I am afraid we have all suffered a one-way trip to this place.”
“But surely, we can find a way back,” Marla said. “I refuse to give up.”
The old lady snorted. “You will require that attitude to survive here, I am sure. And I will do what I can to help. But understand we will need to focus on survival for the time being.”
Marla frowned and turned back to the stove to warm her hands again. Cleo stared at the old woman.
“Okay, I guess we do not have a choice,” he said. “What do we need to do first?”
“Our benefactors,” Mrs. Willow said with a sneer, “have left us with a supply of clothing, tools, and foodstuffs. It is out in the clearing. We will need to bring it in here before the weather scatters it.”
“I just refuse to accept this,” Marla said. “You do whatever you want.”
Cleo stepped over to her. “We do not have a choice, My Dear. We must do this.”
“Do not My Dear me, Cleo. You got us into this.”
Quick as a striking cobra, he slapped her across the face. “We do not have a choice! We either work to survive, or we die. I will not allow you to just give up.”
She stared at him in shock. He had never so much as touched her in anger before. Without another word, she moved over to the door and struggled to open it. He stepped over to help her, and they walked out into a new world.
POSTLUDE
The exiled German stood in the conference room of the Urbana Quantum Physics Laboratory and gazed at those about him. He was once again wearing the clothes that accompanied him to this place, and he was surprised at how uncomfortable they were. In addition, he carried a leather purse attached to his belt. One of the ruBracks had appeared with a small fortune in gold coins, which was in the purse.
“What can I expect when I return? Will I remember this adventure?”
Mrs. Tasker smiled sadly. “We cannot remove your memories Mr. Bach. You will return to your time a split second after you left. Nothing there will have changed. But, some things about you have changed, and we cannot do anything about that. As time goes on, you will not forget us, but the memories will slowly fade. And that is as it should be.”
“You have been very generous, though, Frau Trasker,” the German said.
“You have suffered greatly and we want to ease your transition back into your time.” Behind them they heard a cough. The ruBrack turned to glare at the paladin.
The paladin smirked. “I twisted her arm pretty hard, Johann. But, I think we are doing the right thing.”
“Shuurely, I never expected to meet anyone like you,” Bach said. “You have become an honorable friend.”
“The Bachist a friend indeed. To make great music back home, the Woogie assumes,” Shuurely replied.
Bach looked over at Quintan and Sally Rogers. “I shall miss you. You have become very good friends.”
Sally quickly moved to embrace the German. “I know we caused you incredible pain, but you have become a part of our world. We will miss you. But, you will be going home.”
He nodded. “Home is a lovely word in your Anglo. It is even lovelier in German. I wish to thank all of you for what you have done for me. I must admit that I am glad I was able to embark on this adventure with all of you. I regret that Edgar is no longer with us.”
“The Maker is satisfied with the conclusion of your adventure, Mr. Bach,” Mrs. Tasker said. “I think He will bless you upon your return home.”
“He has blessed me greatly already.”
“Are you ready to depart?” the ruBrack asked.
Bach stepped over and reached out to shake the paladin’s hand. “You are a wise and just ruler, Herr Paladin. Would that the rulers in my world be as you. Thank you for your graciousness.”
Scott Baughman shook his hand. “I’m nothing special, Johann. I just try to do my job the best that I can.”
The German stepped back and turned to Mrs. Tasker. “I do not like to prolong departures. We may leave at any time.”
“Very well, Mr. Bach.”
Mrs. Tasker and the German disappeared with a light pop, and the room seemed less bright. Sally sniffed and wiped her eyes. Everyone looked around uncomfortably. The paladin rubbed his hands together.
“Well, I suppose we should get busy. Arnold wants an inventory of all the furnishin
gs in the building before we sell it. Quintan; you and Sally will need to help him.”
The Rogers both nodded.
“I will schedule a meeting with you in the next week or so,” the paladin continued. “I do not plan to allow you to simply sit in your houses collecting a stipend. There will be work to do.”
“But not in temporal engineering,” Quintan said with a lopsided smile.
“True,” the paladin replied. “But, I have some ideas.”
§ § §
Johann Bach stood on the cobblestones and looked around as the memories from the warm June morning flooded back. Yes. He was home. It felt like home. The past two years seemed to wash off off him as he soaked in the sights of Leipzig.
And, he recalled he had been on his way to the Thomaskirche for the day’s work. But, he decided he would return home, at least, for a little while. He wanted to see his beloved Anna and his precious children. He was sure they would wonder why he returned to the house right after he left. But, he was not willing to wait until evening to see them.
He turned and began a quick walk back to his house. On his belt, the leather purse jingled slightly as the weight of the gold coins bounced on his hip. God had given him a marvelous opportunity with the gold. He smiled to himself as he removed another object from underneath his coat. When it had become clear that the ruBracks would indeed return him to his world, he had engaged his friend Josiah in several long conversations. Josiah had translated an old book for him into German. The book dated from the twentieth century. It was now printed on plascine and was almost indestructible. If he was careful and wise, the book and the gold would ensure the prosperity of his family for generations. The title of the book was How Things Work.
§ § §
Scott Baughman, the paladin, sat in a comfortable chair in his private apartment on the one-hundred-eightieth floor of Wilton House in Chicago. Another winter storm blew snow about the towers of the city, and Scott left the curtains open to watch the storm. A small fire crackled in the hearth and the lights were low. On the side table, a tall iced glass containing a carbonated orange drink was within reach. Scott had experimented with the ingredients over the years to where the product was somewhat like the ancient drink he remembered from a past life.
His wife sat in another chair and read a book on her comp term. In Scott’s lap was a folio volume given to him by Mrs. Tasker. Inscribed in the velum cover was the title The Baughman Family Saga. The narrative began four generations prior to Scott when an ancestor emigrated from England to the United States of America. And it continued after Scott and his father were removed from Earth as the result of an alien abduction.
Scott had stayed up all night reading the book when he received it. He was now reading it again more carefully. The family had survived the shock of his disappearance. It had also survived and prospered in the crash that followed the Carrington Event in 2035 AD. Its fortunes had ebbed and flowed for two hundred years before being absorbed into the flow of humanity.
Scott Baughman did not consider himself a crier. He had wept when he found out that he would not return to Sondra and his children. And on this wintery evening in the upper Midwest Palatinate, Kimberly, his wife, quickly left her chair to comfort her husband as he wept over his lost past.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ward Wagher lives in Greenville, South Carolina with his wife. A college professor and an Information Technology professional, Wagher writes Adult Christian Fiction, and Christian Science-Fiction.
Visit Ward’s web site at www.wardwagher.com. He can be reached at [email protected]
