The Prophecies Trilogy (Omnibus Edition): A Dystopian Adventure

by Linda Hawley

  “Is the source credible?” the agent asked.

  “Very. I think we can rely on the information,” I answered.

  “Then I agree to lien her,” he said with a nod, all business.

  “Good. Now I can move on to other cases that need my attention.”

  I left his office.

  * * *

  Remembering my dream was like watching a movie. I went back in time and changed history…from a dream.

  That’s new.

  I did have lunch with Raymond yesterday, but after I changed things in the past, in the new reality, we never had lunch. Raymond killed himself at eight o’clock, which was before I dreamed, so in his memory, everything was the same as he had told me.

  “Why couldn’t you have waited?” I cried out loud to Raymond.

  Leaving the curb behind, I drove back to AlterHydro.

  Chapter 8

  BELLINGHAM, WASHINGTON

  The Year 2015

  At seven, I heard the car pull up.

  As always, right on time.

  Standing at the doorway to my house, I watched him hurry up the walkway toward me. I quickly closed the door behind us. Paul held me close and tight. We didn’t speak.

  In time, he released me and, looking into my eyes, kissed me gently.

  “I still can’t believe it,” he said in grief, giving me a quick second hug before holding my hand.

  “Yeah.”

  “I would have never thought he’d kill himself.”

  I stayed silent. We moved over to the kitchen bar.

  “Something smells good.”

  “I made spinach lasagna. Cooking clears my mind,” I justified to him.

  “Let’s eat,” he suggested, sitting down.

  “Okay,” I said and then started to dish up plates.

  We ate in silence for several minutes.

  “It’s really good, Ann.”

  “Thanks. It’s my Aunt Saundra’s recipe. I always loved eating at her house because she’d make it every time I visited as a kid.”

  As the lasagna filled me, I began to consider the questions I needed to ask Paul.

  “I have some questions I’d like to ask you, but they may seem odd,” I said, looking up at him.

  “Odd…how?” he replied, still eating.

  “Well, will you just go with the flow? No matter how strange it may seem?”

  “Sure, why not?” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

  “Tell me what you remember about lunchtime yesterday.”

  “Hmm, okay…I did my regular routine and went and ran on the treadmill,” he said flatly, looking at me impassively.

  “Details, please.”

  “Okay…when I got there, you and Lulu were already running, as always, and—”

  “What time was that?” I asked, interrupting Paul.

  “I got to the treadmill at about twelve fifteen, as always. I don’t know how long you had been there.”

  So I was running on the treadmill—not having lunch with Raymond. Paul remembers the alternate reality.

  “What’s this about, Ann? You’re kinda acting strange, and I can see you’ve got a lot going on in your head ’cause you have that funny look.”

  “I’m gonna tell you something that’ll sound absolutely crazy. What I need you to do is suspend your disbelief and listen. Can you do that?”

  “Don’t I always?” he asked, slightly irritated. “Is this another peeker experience without using the electronics?”

  “Nope. This is something completely new.”

  “Okay then.”

  “Yesterday, instead of running with you, I actually had lunch with Raymond.”

  “Huh?”

  “Suspend your disbelief.”

  “Okay,” he agreed, screwing up his face in concentration.

  “Raymond told me that he was in a dire financial situation because the IRS was garnishing his wages, due to something illegal his ex-wife did. The appeal was going to take up to a year, and during that time, they would still garnish his wages. Raymond was distraught.”

  “So that’s why—” he said, suddenly having come to life.

  “Yes,” I said with a raised hand, interrupting. “But let me continue.”

  “Okay,” Paul agreed, keeping eye contact with me.

  “After lunch with Raymond, I pondered how I could help him. His troubles were at the forefront of my mind all night. Then, last night I dreamed about his situation—”

  “Don’t tell me that you dreamed something that turned real again?”

  “Yes, I did, but more. In the dream, I went back in time and prevented Raymond’s problem with the IRS, and this morning you and everyone else remembered an alternate reality after my dream, instead of the actual reality, which is what I remember,” I said and then paused, looking for comprehension.

  “But Raymond killed himself—he didn’t remember the alternate reality.”

  “Raymond died before I went to sleep. If he had waited a few hours, he would have remembered a different reality and not killed himself.”

  “What do you remember from yesterday?” he said, interest piqued.

  “I went to work, Raymond called me, and we had lunch together. He told me all about his troubles, saying that he was worth more dead than alive. It was very disturbing. Then, at eight o’clock last night, he killed himself…before I dreamed. I went to sleep about midnight and dreamed that I fixed his IRS problems, by going back in time. This morning, his widow, you, and I’m sure others only remember an alternate reality, where Raymond didn’t have financial troubles, and he and I never had lunch together.”

  “How do you know what his widow remembers?”

  “I went to see her today,” I said and then looked down to the couch.

  “You didn’t, Ann,” Paul exclaimed.

  “I had no idea that she remembered a different reality. I thought they were in dire financial straits. I went there to offer help,” I said, trying to justify myself.

  “What did she say?”

  “That she was with Raymond yesterday at lunchtime. They had taken their son to the doctor. Then she and her mother pretty much kicked me out of their house. It was very hostile.”

  “Oh, brother. Ann, that’s not good,” Paul said, censure dripping into his words.

  “Yeah, I know. But I did go there to help. That’s how I learned that she had an alternate reality, and afterwards I remembered the dream.”

  “If what you’re saying is true—”

  “If it’s true? What do you mean?”

  “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “You sure?”

  “What I meant was, assuming that I can suspend judgment, what you did last night was time travel using the dream state, and you actually changed history.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you realize how incredible that is?”

  “Yeah, I do. I’ve had all afternoon to ponder it.”

  “So much is possible with that kind of paranormal skill—”

  “Unless I dream of a nuclear bomb hitting Bellingham.” I sighed. “What is so tragic is that Raymond killed himself only a few hours before I changed his reality. If he had just waited a day, he never would have died. Not only that, but I seem to be the only person to understand why he killed himself, since everyone else remembers the alternate reality. That’s the other thing I don’t understand…”

  “What’s that?” Paul asked eagerly.

  “Why don’t I remember the alternate reality? Or both realities?”

  “Maybe your brain is hardwired to the first reality.”

  “It apparently is. Or maybe I need to remember the first reality to stay sane. Remember what I told you before about others in the CIA program?”

  “You mean that they all died?”

  “Yeah. But for me, I don’t feel any different having changed history through my dream.”

  “I find that very fortunate.”

  “I agree,” I said softly.

>   Paul reached out to me and kissed me softly. “I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he said, searching my eyes.

  “I know,” I said, looking into his deep, caring eyes.

  “I care about you.” He caressed my cheek with his thumb. Sliding off the stool and standing, he pulled me into him, wrapping his arms around me with his hands holding my waist tightly, and kissed me passionately.

  I could no longer think about anything except my feelings for Paul that were erupting.

  Chapter 9

  BELLINGHAM, WASHINGTON

  The Year 2015

  Sitting with a cup of herbal tea at the bay window, I watched the sea, petting Lulu with my free hand. I thought about what Paul and I had talked about last night. I can travel through time and alter events. But can I control it?

  After pondering the problem all day and into the night, I had dreamed it unintentionally. I had been working creatively, throwing clay on my wheel. Could I have created the solution for Raymond by activating the right side of my brain?

  I need to test my technique, to see if I can control it.

  Considering it was time to get ready for work, I left the bay window, passing my desk, which sat against the small wall separating the art studio from the kitchen. I noticed a blank envelope sitting on the keyboard, typical of GOG correspondence.

  “Was this here last night?” I said out loud as I opened the sealed envelope.

  Meeting today at 2:15 p.m.

  Whatcom Falls Park, on the far side of Whirlpool Falls

  “They’re coming here?” I said out loud, my voice sounding brittle and shocked, even to my own ears. GOG had never called a meeting and met me here. It must be something important.

  I got ready for work, making sure to wear my Keen walking shoes. Whatcom Falls was a hiking trail. Driving to AlterHydro, I wondered if Paul had left the GOG letter. If so, why hadn’t he said anything?

  That morning, it was difficult to get much work done with my mind preoccupied with Raymond’s death, the upcoming GOG meeting, and the implications of my newfound ability to alter history. Both Paul and Edwin seemed engrossed in their own projects as well. I noticed that Paul never left to workout at lunch. At one thirty, Lulu and I left for the GOG rendezvous.

  I took a rambling route to the park, knowing that security was vital for a GOG meeting. The CIA trained me to identify a tail, and I used all those tactics to ensure I was not being followed.

  Whatcom Falls Park is more than two hundred acres of forested wilderness, including hiking trails, several waterfalls, and a fishing pond. The meeting place GOG chose was a favorite of swimmers brave enough to jump off the cliff sixty feet above the creek pool.

  As I pulled into the parking lot from Silver Beach Road, I was sure I had not been followed. Because the trail could be slippery in the rain, I was thankful for the clear, sunny day.

  “Lulu, it’s your lucky day—this is a no-leash park. But you do have a task. You are my watch, girl.” When I said the word “watch,” Lulu’s ears pricked up as she stared at me.

  When Lulu was still a puppy, I began working with a professional guard-dog trainer, who helped me train Lulu. We worked with her for a year, and since then we’d had many refresher sessions.

  “It’s time, girl.”

  I left the car and opened the back door for her. She jumped out of the car and sat on the ground, looking up at me. I gave her the command. “Watch.”

  She immediately stood and then set to work sniffing and listening, building a hundred-foot perimeter around me. When she was done, she stood next to me and looked up. That was her all clear signal.

  At a brisk pace, we set off walking towards Whirlpool Falls; the smell of Evergreens permeated the air. The whole way, Lulu was working, securing an area around me. We passed the trail cutoff where swimmers climbed to reach the jumping-off cliff. I could see the large pool and the sun shining directly into it. Not far from there, we left the trail and hiked down a craggy hill to get to the far side of the pool. I didn’t see anyone waiting, so I checked my watch. Right on time.

  Lulu watched a pair of swimmers in the pool for about ten seconds and then sniffed their belongings, returning to me unalerted to anything. We climbed over some big boulders to gain access to the designated meeting place. As we reached the highest point, I saw two people sitting on a boulder together.

  One was the Tom Chambers look-alike that I had met with during the Canadian GOG meeting, and the other was a woman I didn’t recognize. She looked to be Native American.

  Moving toward them, Lulu ran on ahead of me, and I called out to her, “Cease.” She quickly returned to me.

  I approached the duo with Lulu by my side. They were both dressed in hiking clothes, and the woman had a small backpack on her back.

  The Tom Chambers look-alike reached out his hand to me. I shook it and quietly said, “Freedom.”

  He smiled and said, “Reigns.”

  This was the new exchange used when GOG called meetings in the Pacific Northwest, unless a code word was given ahead of time. The organization regularly changed codes to ensure our safety.

  The woman also extended her hand, and we shook without speaking. She had a prominent strong nose, stout eyebrows, very dark skin, jet-black straight hair, and serious, dark eyes.

  “Is the dog trained?” she asked me.

  “Yes. Shall I have her work?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Lulu,” I said, and she looked me in the eyes. “Watch,” I commanded her. She immediately started working.

  “Those are ours swimming, and six others are in the perimeter,” the Tom Chambers clone said, nodding to the pool I just passed but could no longer see.

  “Good,” I said, impressed with security.

  “Let’s sit,” the woman suggested.

  “We need to discuss your recent successes and make future plans. Are you ready for the next phase?” Tom Chambers asked.

  I was stunned. “Yeah…is it time?”

  “It is. Details are in the pack,” he said while the woman handed me her backpack.

  I opened the pack and found, among other things, a plastic bag with a passport and driver’s license inside. I opened it. It was my picture, but a new name and other identifying information replaced mine. I looked at a paper, which showed that I’d be flying to Washington, D.C., within a week.

  “Okay,” I said resolutely, meeting their eyes in agreement.

  “Meeting details are in there, too. The flight’s booked for you,” she added.

  The Tom Chambers clone moved closer to me, gently put his hand on my shoulder, and whispered in my ear, “Make sure you say your goodbyes.” Then he looked into my eyes as the impact of his words reached my emotions.

  “Okay then.” I eked out the words, looking to him and then to her.

  Suddenly she reached out and hugged me, hard and tight, and whispered in my ear, “Remember, it’s for our freedom.” Then she released me and moved back. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. It was an emotional reminder of why we all risked so much.

  “Lulu,” I called loudly, still entranced through her eyes.

  When Lulu returned, I swung the new backpack on my back, and we left. As I descended the boulders, the swimming couple remained active in the pool, clandestine watchdogs for our noble cause.

  Chapter 10

  BELLINGHAM, WASHINGTON

  The Year 2015

  I pulled away from the park, heading home.

  On the hike out, I had thought about what my GOG contacts had told me. Armond and I knew that being involved with GOG meant that at some point we would be asked to cross a line that we could not return from. We had agreed that we believed in the cause enough to cross over that line. GOG also knew of our commitment; they said it was time. I had long ago formulated my plan for this day.

  “Dial Vicki,” I instructed the BYD.

  “Dialing,” the car confirmed.

  “Hello…AlterHydro…may I help you?” Vicki answered.
>
  “Hi, Vicki. It’s Ann.”

  “Yes, Ann?”

  “I’m not feeling quite well, and I’m heading home. I won’t be in tomorrow or Friday either.”

  “I understand. I know you were close to Raymond,” Vicki said.

  I was shocked by her compassion and knowledge that Raymond and I were friends. What is she, psychic?

  “Thank you, Vicki.”

  “Goodbye,” she said abruptly, and then I heard the click of her ending the call.

  Guess her compassion only lasts a second or two.

  I pulled into my garage and waited for the door to close before exiting the car. Lulu and I then entered the house through the side door. Once in the house, I set the backpack and my bag on the kitchen counter.

  “Sinéad, book me a flight from Bellingham to Salt Lake City on the first flight tonight, flying back tomorrow, departing no earlier than three o’clock p.m.”

  “Coach or first class, Ann?” Sinéad asked.

  “Coach, if it’s available, and if not, book me in first class.”

  “Coach is available both directions, but I cannot get your preferred seating for all flights.”

  “That’s okay, Sinéad. Just book the flights.”

  There was a pause. “They are booked, and you have a reserved seat on all flights. The itinerary is now on your phone. Your flight departs Bellingham Airport in one hour and fifteen minutes and arrives in Salt Lake at eight fifty-seven tonight.”

  “Thanks, Sinéad. Dial Elinor from the home phone and send it to my cell.”

  I picked up the phone just before Elinor answered. “Hey, sweetie,” I said, greeting my daughter.

  “Oh, hi, Mom. What good timing—I was gonna call you.”

  “How would you like to talk in person later tonight?”