The chuckwagon building looked refreshed, its red paint a vivid hue that showcased the respect the owners had for the property. Turning to my left, I saw what I had hoped to see— the white house, as it had always been before its demolition in 2003. Since my travels had begun I had experienced so many emotions. Confusion, happiness, freedom of spirit… a whole host of feelings. Seeing the camp’s main office for the first time in over a decade, I felt a sentiment I can only describe as “correct.” It was like the final piece of a puzzle had fit smoothly into place. I heard myself sigh with what sounded like relief. I had come to the source of so much of my nostalgia and instead of bringing me to my knees with sorrow it had filled me with the happiness and security of coming home. I walked slowly past the office, soaking it in as if I could possibly record every detail in my mind forever. Just as I was making my way past and was about to turn my attention to the pavilion up ahead I saw a large, handwritten sign. “Shady Pines Day Camp! Hiring for Summer 1993!” it said in cheerfully painted letters.
You’d think that the experience of destroying my timeline only a day earlier in my personal chronology would have made me think twice about getting involved in something so close to young Danny Wells’s life, but there’s something you need to understand about time travel, at least into one’s own past. It feels a little like returning from college and finding out that your parents sold the house and moved to Arizona. It gave me a lonely sensation of being a stranger in my own land. Because of that, and maybe because of my personality under any circumstances, I felt a constant pull toward the things that were familiar in my life. It was as if the universe itself was tugging me back to the front of the building.
I walked up the stairs practically bubbling over with curiosity. Reaching out to push open the screen door, I stepped into the main office, which was located in what had probably been a living room in another era that might have seemed familiar to Levi Berm. A woman sat at the desk just inside the front door, and a balding man with grey tufts of hair around his temples sat on the edge of the other desk in the room. I had a vague sense of having seen the woman before, but I certainly recognized the man as one of the directors of the camp. The place, at least in the era in which I now found myself, was privately owned and operated by these two older guys, yet they had hired a vast swarm of directors whose purpose, it seemed to the campers, was simply to stroll the grounds harassing the kids who weren’t participating in the scheduled activities.
The man, whom I only knew as “Uncle Jim,” stopped mid-conversation and looked me over. I fully expected him to open with, “How can I help you?” a phrase that constantly sparked panic in me as if the questioner could see through my charade before I’d even presented it. Instead, he smiled and said, “Coming in to escape the heat?”
“Actually,” I said, “I saw your sign outside and wanted to see what kind of positions were still available.” This was the truth. I was curious what, if anything, they would have available for a guy in his thirties. I was a little old to be a counselor and probably a little young to be a director, not that those jobs ever seemed to turn over. It was also only a couple weeks before the start of the summer season and I imagined most of the fundamental positions had been filled already.
“Well,” said Uncle Jim, “we’re pretty close to full with our counselors. We do have a couple openings still for specialists. What kinda skills do you have?”
I had an idea that nearly made me burst into laughter. “I’m pretty good with computers,” I said, thinking of how primitive the machines of 1993 were compared to the smartphones and touchscreen tablets of the modern world.
Uncle Jim smiled. “That’s perfect! The woman who was supposed to oversee the computer lab backed out yesterday. We basically just need somebody to oversee a couple of the games and programs we’ve got up there. The bunks rotate in and out in different periods and we have the computer club for the kids who choose to spend more time in that activity.”
“So you’ve got all the apps installed already?” I asked.
“Huh? Apps?” he questioned.
“Oh, I mean the games and all.”
“Um…we’ve got a bunch of disks up there with different programs. You can go up and take a look if you want.” He gestured toward a door that at first glance appeared to be a closet. I knew from personal experience that behind the door was a steep flight of stairs leading to a couple small rooms. Probably had been bedrooms in a long forgotten age. I remembered that one had been used by the camp for some kind of radio equipment while the other held the computers I recalled so fondly. Had it really only been a couple months since I’d reminisced about that little room? I was actually excited to check it out.
I opened the door and started up the stairs. Footsteps behind me revealed that Uncle Jim was following. “So, what’s your name?” he asked.
“Justin Bieber,” I said.
“Huh. You related to any of the Biebers who go to camp here? Got a few of them.”
I stepped off the stairs onto the wooden landing. “Not that I know of, but I guess anything’s possible.”
He laughed. “That’s for sure. At any rate, I’m Jim Johnson. ‘Course the kids and all around here call me—”
“Uncle Jim,” I blurted out.
“That’s right,” he said, surprise in his voice. “How’d you know?”
“Typical camp thing,” I replied. “Uncles and aunts.”
“Ha. Right you are. Anyhow, I’m in charge of wrapping up the hiring process here before the rest of the staff shows up and the ball really gets rolling.”
I feigned confusion, allowing him to steer me toward the room with computers. Didn’t want to come across like I’d been there before.
“Here they are. Pretty simple setup. I’m sure you can figure it out.”
I looked around the room. There were five old Apple Macintosh models on tables around the room. Boxes of disks and manuals were in the corner. The multiple window air conditioning units hummed as they cooled the space. Undoubtedly they would be straining throughout the summer to keep the room a reasonable temperature with so many warm bodies present and all the machines on and running.
“So,” said Uncle Jim, “should we head back down and break out the contract? If you’re game I’d be happy to have you onboard. We’ve got our orientations and all that coming up in the next couple weeks.”
“That works for me,” I said. I was more thrilled than I wanted to let on. I would enjoy being among all the old machines and getting to stay in the relatively cool interior of the building all summer long. I thought that the position would also keep me a safe distance from my younger self. I hadn’t signed up for the computer club until the following year, if my memory was correct. That meant just the occasional interaction, and there’d be so many other kids in the bunk that I didn’t have to say much of anything to myself.
I followed Uncle Jim back down the stairs. He turned left at the bottom and led me to one of the back offices. He sat down in a worn chair covered with a green plastic material doing a poor imitation of leather. He motioned for me to sit in the chair across the desk from him.
“Okay, Justin,” he said, “I’ve got some papers here for you to sign.” He fanned through a collection of folders on the desk, found the one he wanted and pulled out a copy of the employment contract. “It’s an hourly rate… eight dollars per. I know it’s not much but I’m guessing this is a side job for you. You a teacher?”
“Yeah, I teach computers over at the high school.”
He was amused by this. “So you’re a pro! You were holding out on me, Mr. Bieber!”
I stared at the form, this time prepared for the issue of a social security number. I hated lying on something so important but I had the false paperwork to back up my identity. Besides, it wasn’t likely they would check into it any time soon. It wouldn’t become an issue until tax time, and I’d be long gone by then.
“Can I ask you something?” inquired Uncle Jim.
“Sure…”
“I’ve been hearing all this talk about Prodigy… you know that service that you go on with a whatchamacallit phone thing?”
“A modem. Sure, yeah, I know it.”
“Right, right. A modem. Some of my friends say it’s really great. Do you think it’s worth the money?”
I tried to decide how to answer. I didn’t think that changing the man’s mind about using an online service provider would make or break the course of his life, but then I didn’t have extensive enough experience to say. As it was, I was there on a mission to fix the timestream, not play around with it any further.
“I can’t tell you whether or not you’ll get your money’s worth,” I said. “It’s a personal decision. I will tell you though that the Internet isn’t going away. It’s something you’ll end up using one day. Whether or not you need it now, I can’t say for sure.”
I felt satisfied. Honest answer, with no damaging complications, right?
It wasn’t until I’d thanked Uncle Jim and the receptionist and made it back onto the road in my trusty Ford that I realized how misguided I’d been. There I was worrying about my answer to a question, but I’d just filled a vacancy that probably belonged to somebody else in the proper timeline. No matter how I tried to maneuver in the past, it seemed I’d blunder my way into changing something.
Chapter 12
1
The time between signing the contract that brought “Justin Bieber” to Shady Pines and the start of the camp season was a blur. I was determined not to go anywhere near my younger version or my friends and family. I took road trips out to the countryside, slowly converting my lottery winnings to gasoline. I jogged down by the Delaware River, following its bends and curves past small main street shops and along wooded trails.
The weather was comfortably warm almost every day. My mood improved with each sunrise, and my injured hands healed to the point where nobody would be able to tell I’d been in any kind of a fight. I exercised in my hotel room, making use of bright gym clothes I’d purchased. I finally made a real shopping trip and bought a few different outfits. I was not operating under the pretense of “businessman in town for expo” this go-round. In fact, nobody on staff at the Jenkintown Hotel inquired about the purpose of my long stay. Not even my buddy Carl.
During my road trips I listened to a ton of music. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d enjoyed the FM radio in a car so much. I loved the tunes that played on regular rotation. I was constantly surprised by the songs that I had forgotten hearing earlier in my life. The music, the open roads, the warm weather and the sights, smells and sounds of a world in the earliest days of the Clinton administration placed me in an almost constant hypnotic trance. I couldn’t remember a time in my life when I’d been so mellow.
Though I missed Helena, I accepted the possibility that time apart was good for our relationship. I thought I might be able to be a more patient husband upon my return. The fact that my relationship with her was still many years in the future seemed to lessen the pain brought about by her absence. Even knowing I was in the past for a particular and crucially important reason, the freedom of having no place to be, nobody to check in with and nothing I had to do at the moment was liberating to my burdened mind. I may have been significantly older than the Daniel Wells who belonged in 1993, but I felt younger, healthier and more alive than I had in years.
The weeks passed quickly. I showed up for the obligatory staff meetings at the camp. I didn’t have much to do. Beyond basic requirements like getting certified for CPR, the computer guy just wasn’t needed for most of the training program. I found the process of learning CPR darkly concerning, the way I seemed to find so many things in the past to be. I was being trained to save the life of a child, but what if that child had been meant to die? Fortunately I had no memory of anything horrible happening that summer at camp. I’m pretty confident that the drowning of a camper would have stuck with me.
I found the counselors fascinating. Here I saw an abundance of young men and women as well as the teenaged junior staff, all of whom viewed me as an older adult when in reality they were all born before I was. I mingled with them with an obvious curiosity, but tried to control my inquiries so as to avoid creeping them out. I found myself spending a good amount of the sessions just observing from a distance. It was an education just watching these young people interact.
2
During the second staff meeting, a young woman sat down across from me at the picnic table where I was pretending to study a packet of policies that had been distributed. Though I had never spoken to her, I recognized her in the same way I recognized everyone at the meeting. I’d spent at least one summer with all of them earlier in my life. We locked eyes for a fraction of a second and I looked away with an awkwardness I hadn’t expected because it wasn’t really part of my time traveling persona. “Hi, I’m Suzy,” she said.
I smiled politely. “I’m Justin.”
“Are you a counselor or…”
“Nah, I’m the computer ‘specialist.’”
She looked impressed. “Wow, I don’t really know too much about computers.”
“There’s really not that much to know,” I said. “The models here are pretty basic and there’s no Internet though the quality of the dialup with the kind of modems widely available would be shoddy at best and…I’m totally boring you, aren’t I?”
Suzy grinned. “Only a little bit.”
“Okay, so tell me about you. You’re a senior counselor?”
She pretended to be hurt. “You mean I don’t look fourteen? Damn.”
It was about that time that I realized she and I were flirting. The fundamental wrongness of it hung in the air, though if Suzy sensed it she gave no sign. She was both a decade younger than me and a decade older than the 1993 Danny Wells. Either way, it was uncomfortable. Not to mention I was still married in some other “when.” Yet for all my morality, sense of purpose and loyalty, I found that I craved the spark that Suzy and I seemed to have shared between us. The chemistry was strong and instantaneous.
She was also astonishingly beautiful. Her light brown hair was long and wavy in a way I associated with the ‘80s but I suppose was still in style at that point in time. She had dark brown eyes—the color of chocolate—and they sparkled in the light of the overhead fluorescents. She was tall and thin and moved in a way that said she knew she had a good body. The more we talked and the more she smiled and laughed, the more transfixed I became.
That night, lying in my bed in the Jenkintown Hotel, I thought about her. I didn’t know what she was supposed to be doing in 2013, but there was no way a girl like that hadn’t found someone and married somewhere along the way. There was a risk that any interaction beyond a friendship between us would be interference with the path she was supposed to take. Not to mention the possibility that she was supposed to have a summer fling with one of the other staff members. My involvement could change the course of multiple lives. I couldn’t believe I was even entertaining those thoughts, but there they were.
As the final week passed before the camp season began, I couldn’t stop thinking about seeing Suzy again. I knew I was becoming obsessed but it was a good obsession, if that makes any sense. It made me feel like myself…like I was getting back in touch with a part of myself that I thought had dried up and gone away forever. That chill that went through me every time I pictured Suzy’s smile, that was a good feeling that (I’m sorry to say) had long since left my relationship with Helena. It seemed that my emotions were strong enough to overrule my caution. Anger had done that, getting me into the very mess I was trying to fix. Desire and attraction threatened to do the same.
Driving to work on the first day of camp, I was determined to spend more time with Suzy—just as friends, of course—and to stay far, far away from Danny Wells. I thought that those two goals would overwhelm my focus, but by the time first period ended and I helped a group of nine year old boys finish up playing with a painting program, I realized I was ac
tually going to enjoy my job. I loved being around computers. Even though these old models couldn’t do very much, I found they held a simplicity that I enjoyed. For all the excitement of the twenty-first century and its ever-evolving technology, a part of me had missed those simple times so damned much.
It turned out that even though I was just pretending to be a computer teacher, I really enjoyed teaching. In my capacity as instructor and resident tech guy I was able to dazzle the kids with tales of future computer marvels to come, passing it off as the knowledge of someone well-read in his industry rather than that of someone who has lived in the future. I got a kick out of watching their eyes light up as I described computers “more powerful than all the ones in this room put together” that could fit inside a pocket. The counselors would occasionally roll their eyes, but I knew some of them were intrigued by my prophecies.
Danny arrived in my little attic hangout on the third day of camp, sixth period. I avoided all eye contact with him, fearing that some unusual recognition could be sparked in his mind, but otherwise I treated him exactly like all the other kids in his bunk, all of whom I recognized immediately. I took extra time to impress that bunk with my tales from a future world, though I’m embarrassed to admit that I took even more time with Danny’s bunk’s female counterpart. I knew all those girls, and remembered how little attention they’d ever paid to me.
At first, I just wanted to show off for that group of eleven and twelve year olds. I thought I’d be satisfied with my little inside joke, knowing that they had no clue who I really was. By the end of the second week the part of my mind that was ever restless and forever trying to get me into trouble had determined that I needed to see to it that these girls were even more impressed by my younger version. That would require a level of involvement and meddling that I was sworn to avoid, but the temptation lingered and gnawed at me.
As for Suzy? She brought her bunk the second day of camp, early in the morning. Though I always had ample opportunity to pick up coffee on the way to the camp each day, I usually avoided it. The stuff never agrees with my stomach and I didn’t want to have a bathroom emergency in the middle of a class. Not that I couldn’t have ducked out leaving the junior and senior counselors in charge of their campers, but I thought it would be awkward.
The Traveler: A Time Travel Thriller Page 10
