by K W Taylor
“No, I’m going to die here,” Cob said. “I want to. I want to be here. Get the rest of the folks to trust the Croatan tribe and go with them so they can eat, make it through the winter, at least.” He coughed again and clutched Violet’s hand. “Promise me you’ll write the message. You know the one. Bury me under the tree. Promise me.”
“I promise.” Violet said through tears. “But please, let me try to get you some medicine. We can still get back home.”
“No, I want to be part of it.” Cob smiled and gazed up at the sky. “I want to be a part of history forever.” He looked back at Violet, his grin blood-smeared. “Kids’ll come here. People will make bad TV movies about this. And you’ll know—you’ll know—that I was here, that I got your folks to safety. When people talk about the word carved on the tree, you’ll know it’s my headstone.” He winked at her. “Keep it our secret, Violet. Just that, keep that little bit our secret.”
She clutched his hand hard and held it close to her heart. “That’s a hell of an awesome secret to share with somebody,” she said, laughter mingling with her tears.
His smile broadened. “It really is, isn’t it?”
His grip on her hand loosened.
Thursday, September 2, 2100, Avon, Vermont, NBE
“Here, just…” Kris tried to take Violet’s hand, but the gesture was met with a moan and a furtive dodge. Kris sighed. “Look, you’re filthy, okay? Nobody wants to talk to you until you’re feeling up to it. It’s fine. Let me get you clean, get some food in you. Please?” She tried to see a spark of comprehension in Violet’s eyes. Matted, sweaty locks of hair hung down in front of her face. Kris once again tried to reach out to touch her, and this time Violet didn’t draw back.
Once Kris pushed Violet’s hair back behind her ears, she could see most of the grime was dried tears—long, dirty streaks streamed down from her eyes to her chin.
She was crying, she’s dirty, and Cob didn’t come back with her.
Kris imagined Violet lugging Cob’s body into a hole. She wanted to ask, even if it meant having her fears confirmed, but she didn’t. Instead, she coaxed Violet into taking her hand and letting herself be led to the basement utility shower.
“Soap, towels, everything’s here. I washed your normal clothes. They’re finishing up in the dryer. There’s a robe.” Kris pointed to a fluffy white garment hanging on the back of the door. “I’ll check your clothes and bring them down when they’re ready.”
“He’s dead,” Violet said. Her voice was clear and smooth, her tone lucid. “You figured it out. Did everyone else?”
“I don’t know,” Kris replied. “They saw the state you were in and had me come down to help.”
“I couldn’t see them,” Violet said. “Not yet.”
“Do you want me to tell them?”
Violet nodded.
Crap. Okay. That’s not how I wanted to spend my afternoon.
“Do you want me to tell them any…details? Anything specific?”
Please say no.
“No.”
Thank God.
Kris patted the top of the stack of towels. “Get clean. Get feeling more like yourself. I’ll get some tea for you, too.” She took a step toward Violet. “You’re safe. You’re fine.”
“For now.” Violet smiled at Kris. “I’ll be all right. Thank you.”
Kris took the spiral staircase back up to the front office parlor. Ben hovered near his desk.
Did his hair always have that little sprinkling of gray in it? Has his forehead always been that lined?
“Is she okay?”
“She will be,” Kris replied. “I gotta check on her laundry and get her something warm to drink.” She jerked a thumb toward the kitchen. “So, um, I’m gonna—”
“He’s dead, isn’t he?”
Kris stopped and sighed. She looked at the floor, noting absently that her right boot needed polishing.
Let me think about that, my dumb old scuffed boot, please don’t make me say it, please, Ben…
“Kris?”
She kept her eyes on her boot. “Yeah, he’s dead.”
“Shit.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Shit, yeah.” She looked back up at Ben. “Understatement.”
“Did she say anything specific?” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Never mind. No, don’t. Not yet.”
“She didn’t,” Kris said. “Let her tell us when she’s ready. She’s not doing so great, but she’ll get there.”
“But hey, she’s alive, right?” Ben smiled.
God, you should be thrilled, shouldn’t you? She’s great, the other guy’s worm food, and now you’ve got her all to yourself.
A kernel of rage grew in Kris’s chest. Her heartbeat sped up. “I have to do the stuff with the things,” she said before hurrying off to the kitchen. Once there, she leaned against the sink. Her eyes stung. She gripped the porcelain to keep her knees from buckling as she cried.
Part V: The Hero
The airplane stays up because it doesn’t have the time to fall.
–Orville Wright
Thursday, September 2, 2100, Avon, Vermont, NBE
Violet wiped the steam off the mirror and looked at herself. She was clean now, but she looked older—her cheeks were drawn, her mouth seemed etched along either side, and her eyes were both bloodshot. She pulled on the robe and dragged a comb through her wet hair.
“Hey, here, I got stuff.” There was a soft knock at the half-open door. Kris poked her head in and proffered a pile of clothing folded into a perfect square. She set a teacup down on the counter. “I’ll let you get dressed.”
“Wait.”
“Yeah?”
Violet looked at her, willing her to understand what she wanted to ask without having to do so. “Did—”
“Ben asked,” Kris said. “I told him.” She shrugged. “He’s glad you’re okay. You probably want to talk to him.” Her jaw clenched. “It’s none of my business.”
“No, what?” Violet put the bundle of clothes down.
“I don’t know,” Kris said. “I like Ben. He’s my boss, but he’s also my friend. This whole thing makes me feel awkward.”
Violet chuckled. “It makes you feel awkward?” She stopped. “Oh, wait, no, are you—”
“Oh, my God, a thousand times no.” Kris laughed. “No, I, ah, no. I am of the ladies-who-like-ladies persuasion.” She held up a hand. “And before you go there, you’re awesome, but you’re not my type, either.”
“You wound me.” Violet allowed herself a little smile. “Okay, now that we got all that out of the way.” She picked up her dress. “I’ll be up in a few. I’m feeling better, but it’s a hard day.”
“For everybody,” Kris said. She left, and Violet finished dressing. She wound her wet hair into a messy braid before making her way upstairs.
Ben was on the sofa, paging through a book she recognized as one of the Roanoke volumes. Bodhi was curled up beside him. His ears pricked up when Violet entered.
She cleared her throat. Ben dropped his book as he leapt to his feet, shaken. “Sorry, sorry. I, ah…”
“Look, I know Kris told you. I’ll explain it all.”
“If you don’t want to, we have time. It’s fine, I can—”
“No,” Violet said. She sat down on the cushion Ben vacated. Bodhi walked over into her lap and curled up. His body felt comforting and warm, and she scratched him behind the ears, eliciting a low, rumbling purr. Ben sat down beside her. “Let me get through it so I don’t have to say it again.” She detailed the events at the colony site, all except for where she’d buried Cob. She rushed through the story fast and told Ben to stay quiet every time he tried to ask a question.
“All right, that’s all of it,” she said. “Now, yes, ask anything else you want.”
Ben shook his head. His eyes were shiny and turned down at the edges. “I’m so sorry you had to see that.”
“I’ve lost people, you know. I lost my first partner on a stakeout gone wrong.”
<
br /> “I’m still sorry.” Ben put his hand on hers. “He was heroic. I’m proud of him.”
Proud of him? When all you did was argue with him?
Violet cleared her throat again and slid her hand out from under Ben’s. “I think I’m gonna go lie down, if that’s okay. Is that okay?” She nudged Bodhi off her lap. The cat protested with a short, quack-like meow.
“Of course. Upstairs.” Ben waved a hand at the staircase. “The room at the top—”
“I’ll find it.” She suddenly didn’t want to see his face right now, hear his voice, any of it.
He doesn’t deserve my anger. He didn’t do anything. I have to get out of here. I have to sleep.
At the top of the stairs, Violet turned the corner and nearly ran into Vere. “Oh, I do beg your pardon,” he said.
“It’s okay.” Violet took a step to the side to let him pass, but Vere held up a hand.
“Just a moment.” He fumbled inside his jacket and produced an envelope. “Don’t read it now, dear, I’m sure you’re exhausted.” He averted his gaze. “It’s been a trying day for everyone.” He held out the envelope to her. “When you feel up to it, Mister Cob left this with me. He wanted you to have it.”
“What is it?” Violet took the envelope. Her name was written on it in black ink, the letters shaky and cramped.
“I shouldn’t know.” Vere scooted out of Violet’s way. “Do take care. We’ll sort everything else out when you’ve rested.”
Violet nodded and proceeded to the guest room. She flipped the envelope over and slid her thumb beneath the seal.
The handwriting in the letter grew frenetic and harder to read toward the end. She wondered if it was already his brain beginning to fail him, or if he’d been in a rush.
When somebody reaches this point, they start to sound really damn pretentious. Please remember me as I was, not as this sentimental idiot.
She smiled and read on.
I can’t say I don’t think Ben is kind of a twat. But he sells himself short. He did this amazing thing by throwing in with the doc and all his craziness. He wants to know things, and that’s something you guys have in common. Something I can understand, too. The need, it’s like a fire in my gut, and I know that’s how it is for Ben, too. Maybe you can help him make that fire burn a little brighter, huh? Give the poor guy a shot. I think he digs you. You’d be good for him. Help him be brave—I’m not brave, Violet, I’m stupid. Show him the difference.
Cob’s signature blurred on the paper as Violet’s tears hit the ink.
~
As Ben talked, Kris drew and made notes on a whiteboard on her lap. “We could wipe his mind, more than just a post-trip wipe would do,” he said, “but we’d have to do it when he’s younger, before he can, you know, turn into what he becomes later.”
Kris’s marker squeaked against the board’s surface. “If he just basically has amnesia then, what’s to stop him from still growing up with the same influences and still doing all the crap he ends up doing?” she asked. The marker’s ink grew streaky. “Hang on, this is running out.” She deposited the board onto the coffee table and went to Ben’s desk. “You still got that pack I left for you a few days ago?”
“Center drawer,” he said. “So what if we took him away from any potential negative influences?” He picked up a book from the table beside his chair and flipped through it. “Raised by his mom, who moved him around the country due to her job. Hmm.” He turned back a few pages. “Father unknown. Do you think if he knew his father things might have been better?”
Kris found a new marker and returned to the whiteboard. “What if this, what if that,” she said. “Maybe being exposed to any family made him all batshit? What if they were all huge jerks? Or maybe his mom was less jerky? Or, hell, what if none of them were and he was rebelling against them?” She made a few more notes. “Look, it’s not up to me, but if I were you I’d think about taking him so far away that…” An idea struck her, and she looked up at Ben. “Whoa, wait, what if you get him as a kid and then take him to be raised over there by the Dares?” She laughed. “Nah, that’s nuts. That’s dangerous, too.”
Ben’s mouth narrowed into a thin line. “Cob died to rescue those people,” he said. “If anything would go wrong, if he’d turn out even worse, they’re in danger. He can’t…ah, I—” His voice broke.
“No, I know.” Kris nodded. “You want it to mean something, what he did. He saved Violet’s parents’ lives. What I’m suggesting puts them in danger again. I get that.”
“Besides, he was the only one who could get over there,” Ben said.
“Right.” Kris made more notes. “But, hmm. What if that thing, the gun Mister Wheaton brought back, what if that can be a kind of, I don’t know. If things are, like, the same, don’t they react with each other, no matter where they are? Like a quantum thingamabob?”
“I don’t think it works like that,” Ben said. “I mean, sure, we can ask Eddy what he thinks, but that’s a big leap, Kris.”
“Yeah, maybe.” She shrugged. “What do I know? My best subjects were all artsy. If you want me to draw the guy’s picture, that’s what I’d be good for.”
“Oh, hey, now,” Ben said. “No, it’s a good idea, using an object as a kind of key.” He smiled. “I don’t hire stupid people, you know.”
Kris smiled back. “Thanks.”
Ben stood and walked behind Kris. “Um, so, what is all this, then?” he asked, pointing at the whiteboard.
A horizontal line divided the board into two stacked rectangles. Dashes split the line into small segments, and smudgy writing rose from half a dozen of the line segments.
“It’s Florence’s lifetime,” she replied. “See, this is now,” she said, pointing to the farthest line segment to the right, “and here’s his childhood all through here.” She indicated the leftmost line segments. “And then each of his time travel trips are up here, down here, and they’re all labeled. At least the ones we know about.”
“So we find the best time to get to him?”
“Yup. When he’s the least protected, but also not, like, you know, a baby. Because that’s kind of creepy, mindwiping a baby.”
Ben chuckled. “Not terribly efficient at achieving our goal, either.”
“Yeah.” Kris circled a segment halfway between Claudio’s childhood and adulthood. “Now, here, he’s a teenager. That could be something.” She handed the board to Ben. “Think about something in there, look up where he was during all that. Based on just the little bit I know, I think there could be some potential there.”
“See? Brilliant.” Ben took the board. “I’m going to talk to Eddy about this. Do you mind checking on Violet again?”
“I’m okay.”
Kris looked across the room. Violet stood in the archway between the foyer and the front parlor.
“You look better,” Kris said. She rose. “Do you want some more tea? I was just going to make a sandwich for myself, actually. Could make you one, too.”
Violet shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”
“You should try to eat,” Ben said.
“Yeah, come on,” Kris said. She made a beckoning gesture. “Give me a hand, at least.”
“I’ll be back, ladies,” Ben said. He disappeared down the stairs to the lab.
“What’s he up to?” Violet followed Kris to the kitchen.
Kris outlined her ideas as she took sandwich-making supplies out of the refrigerator. At the mention of sending Claudio to the same place as her parents, Violet made a low humming sound, bordering on a growl. Kris turned from her food preparations and held up her hands.
“Hey, hey, just brainstorming,” she said. “Look, if someone can use that weapon to get over there, it could mean there’s easy transport back and forth. You could see your folks again, right?”
“He doesn’t deserve to be raised by them.” Violet rubbed her temples and shut her eyes. “My head hurts.”
“Do you need some aspirin or—wait, is t
his a normal headache or—”
“I’m fine,” Violet said, her voice stern. “Sorry. Sorry. I don’t mean to take this out on you. It’s an interesting idea, but I don’t know how I feel about it.” She opened her eyes and took a plate down from a cabinet for Kris.
“Well, we might not even be able to do it at all, if somebody can’t figure out what Claudio knows,” Kris said. “Ben’ll probably have to call in the folks who tried to take care of Mister Wheaton in the first place, have them help.”
“Sure.” Violet slumped against the counter. “Maybe…you know, maybe it would be good for Ben if he kind of took point on that, finding Wheaton and interrogating him some more. I’ll help him. Investigation is my thing. I would be good for that. But he could stand to actually get out and do this.”
Kris spread peanut butter on a slice of bread. She looked over at Violet. “He’s done a trip now. And the man gets out of the house. It’s not like we’re talking about an agoraphobe here.”
“No, I know, I just think it should be strongly encouraged, that’s all,” Violet said.
“Hell, I haven’t done a trip yet,” Kris said. She spooned out a glob of jam on top of the peanut butter. “If we’re measuring people’s investigative capacity based on their time travel experience, I have zero.”
And I might like to change that, someday when we’re not chasing a serial killer.
“I’m sorry, did I say something that—” Violet stopped when Vere and Ben’s voices wafted in from the front parlor. A moment later, they both entered the kitchen.
“Miss Lessep, there you are.” Without a comment, Vere plucked the sandwich from its plate. “Would you like to join me on a visit to a friend of mine?” He took a bite of the sandwich.
“Hey, that was mine,” Kris protested.
“You know better than to expect to eat your own food when he’s in the building,” Ben said. “Is this your first day?”
