Masago’s underground complex was an hour’s drive beyond it in the desert, and it was waiting for someone to bring it to life. He planned to be that someone. Since her old man hadn’t purchased it yet, it would be the perfect place to live with his younger self until the Fuji family showed up for their first walk-through. That should be one hell of a reunion. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Masago’s face when she locked eyes with the man in her drawings. He’d have a lot of explaining to do, but he had plenty of time to prepare a speech for their eventual encounter.
Lucas kept the speed up, making it to the base of the mountain without issue. He’d used the mirror to watch for pursuers, but there were none. He wasn’t sure why they hadn’t decided to give chase but was happy they hadn’t. Fifteen minutes later, a reflective road sign flew by, indicating it was only three miles to the summit where the lone ski resort in Tucson was located. He’d never been skiing at the mountain retreat, mainly because he couldn’t afford it but also due to the thought of impaling himself on a tree—it wasn’t his idea of fun.
He’d driven this winding road a long time ago with Drew and his adoptive mother, and knew its scenic beauty during the daylight hours. The endless views of the cityscape behind him were impressive, plus the steep canyons were lined with majestic pine trees—all of it breathtaking.
The view at night didn’t do it justice. Not with the darkness swallowing its beauty and keeping most drivers on edge with the intense danger lurking only a few feet to the right of the shoulder.
At least once every winter, some drunk skier would miss a turn and plummet thousands of feet to his death. It would be all over the news for weeks as the steep terrain made it difficult for Search and Rescue to recover the body.
Lucas remembered the story Masago had mentioned, about the poor schmuck who managed to pick the single biggest drop-off point along the entire road. Talk about bad luck. The crash started with the guardrail giving way, and ended in a towering fireball in the middle of a citrus farm at the foot of the mountain.
Baby Lucas was still sleeping in the back, completely oblivious to the harrowing escape and the mountainous world around him. Lucas admired the innocence he once had as a child, wondering if part of life’s master plan is to slowly strip you down one layer at a time until all that’s left is a lonely cynic. It was a cruel reality, but one he might be able to change for the precious child in the backseat. Just a few more miles and he’d be able to start that journey and do so in the role of a surrogate father . . . for himself.
Before the next bend in the road, the area suddenly lit up like a supernova. A spotlight from above was now beaming down on the Town Car, creating havoc with his eyes. He slowed down a bit, waiting for his vision to adjust. It did. For a brief second, he thought it might’ve been the Baaku, the alien race of adolescent telepaths, returning to finish what they’d started on the Earth outpost. But then he heard a deep chopping sound ripping through the cold night air—a helicopter.
They found us!
But how? He was sure they hadn’t been followed. Only twice had he seen headlights following in the rearview mirror, and both times the drivers had turned off and gone on their way.
His brain searched for an answer. Then he found it. A tracking device. They must have installed it on the car.
The dome light. That’s why it was on!
The thought never crossed his mind. One of the intruders must have gone into the garage and planted a transmitter on the vehicle—most likely under the hood where it could easily be attached to the battery for continuous power. It must have been standard operating procedure in case they lost containment of the home.
The angle of the spotlight changed from directly overhead to a lower angle, burning in on the driver’s side. His left eye was taking the brunt of it now, so he put a hand up to block the intensity. It worked, though he didn’t know if they were focused on him or on the child in the baby seat.
Just then, baby Lucas woke up and started crying. The damned light must have woken him up.
“It’ll be okay, Lucas,” he told the child. “Just a few more minutes, I promise. I’m going to find a dirt road somewhere and turn off. Once we’re under the trees, that nasty light will go away.”
The pavement curved left and continued its climb, cutting the light off for a bit as the tall stand of pine trees blocked its view. The crying in the backseat lessened as well, giving Lucas a chance to focus without the penetrating noise.
He kept watch for a turnoff, but the steep terrain along the edge of the mountain didn’t provide one. He calculated they were less than a mile from the peak. If he remembered correctly, the road straightened along the final approach. After two more bends in the road, his prediction came true. He could see lights ahead in the direction of the resort. Unfortunately, they were flashing red and blue. Dozens of them.
“Fuck, a roadblock,” he snapped, not stopping himself from dropping an f-bomb with a baby in the car.
He slowed the car down by ten miles an hour, wanting to consider his options. Turning around might work, but the dark, narrow road would make that a dangerous maneuver.
A moment later, the helicopter peeled off and was replaced by a sea of red and blue lights in his rearview mirror. Somehow they had caught up to him from behind.
He was pinned in.
43
Lucas tightened his grip on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead with glazed eyes and no options. A string of patrol cars was closing in from behind, herding the Town Car toward the waiting roadblock a mile ahead. It wouldn’t be long before he was arrested and they’d take baby Lucas away. He could kiss the Smart Skin Suit goodbye and any chance of ever getting home to a future where everyone he loved was still alive.
Time had adjusted and stopped his reversion plan—again.
He was correct earlier when he figured time was like the flow of a river, constantly avoiding the obstacles placed in its path. It’s not possible to change the flow of time or stop it, not when it can see the obstacles coming. It seemed like the harder he tried or the further ahead he planned, the easier it was for time to take corrective action. Just like a river might do with larger obstacles in its way. The further ahead it can see it, the more time it had to build momentum and adjust its path.
Damn, he had been so close to a solution! This incursion almost worked when he snatched the baby. It wasn’t planned, and for a short while, his attempt had a chance to succeed. Eventually though, Time caught up to him, making adjustments to restore history on its original course.
What he should’ve done was not plan as far ahead. Fuji’s selection of obvious anchor points with specific timeline changes was a mistake. They should’ve simply winged it with sudden changes. Changes that time wouldn’t see coming. It might have worked, but the changes would’ve needed to be unexpected and instantaneous. Some type of swift, permanent change that time couldn’t stop or correct.
He looked at the dashboard clock just as its LED numbers advanced to the next minute: 2:12 a.m.
A smile of familiarity hit his lips. He’d grown accustomed to seeing that number, seemingly at every turn. Two-twelve must carry some cosmic meaning, he decided, almost as if this exact moment in time was the singular focal point of his entire existence.
Then the answer hit him like a freight train without brakes. He didn’t want to waste another second, giving the Narrows of Time a chance to correct.
He let his hands turn the steering wheel to the right, sending the bumper of the car crashing through the metal guardrail. A second later, the pavement let go of the tires and he and baby Lucas were airborne, heading for the final curtain below.
“Screw you, Time!” he yelled. “You can’t fix this!”
His mathematical brain ran a quick calculation, determining that a little over twenty-three seconds remained before the four-thousand-pound vehicle hit the bottom of the nine-thousand-foot drop.
Just a little over twenty more seconds and this nightmare would finally be over.
> Baby Lucas was crying hysterically in the seat behind him. Lucas felt horrible for what he’d just done, but there was no other choice. He had to remove himself from the timeline—both versions of him.
If his journey ended this very minute in the past, then all the misery that came after it would never happen again. It was the only chance to protect everyone he loved, and save all those souls who lost their lives because of his reckless decisions.
The Lincoln’s left headlight was still working as the bottom drew closer in a wash of shadows. He could smell the scent of oranges getting stronger with each passing second, figuring the farmer’s grove was the impact point.
He waited for the time distortion waves to catch up to him, making changes to the timeline like a teenager switching channels with a remote control. But they didn’t come.
He’d done it.
He’d beaten Time.
Sometimes the simplest solution is the hardest to find.
Memorable words spoken in both the past and in the future by a truly great man and friend, Dr. Kleezebee.
A sudden vision entered his thoughts. It was a beautiful, loving scene—one he planned to remember for all of eternity.
Drew and Abby were standing across from each other, holding hands on the altar of a church. Drew was dressed in a handsome tux, and standing on his own two legs—no sign of a wheelchair or crutches. Abby was smiling back at him, wearing a gorgeous wedding dress that flowed down her body and across the steps of the altar. Abby’s teary eyes were locked onto Drew’s and her smile full. The glow on her cheeks was obvious, as was her love for Drew.
A blurry, faceless priest was performing the ceremony, while a throng of people witnessed the holy union with blissful eyes. He could see the faces of his friends and loved ones. Everyone was there, everyone except him.
He assumed the scene was a glimpse of the things to come, a future he’d just created. He accepted his fate, knowing what he was seeing couldn’t happen if he was still alive.
The vision changed, this time showing only a brief snapshot. He saw Masago standing in front of an easel on a mountain top looking west at dusk. She was holding a slender brush with its tip covered in red paint. But there wasn’t a portrait of Lucas on the canvas, only a rendering of the stunning sunset.
The final second arrived and so did the consuming blackness. It was a fitting end for the East Side Exterminator. A man who never believed in the unity of life, but one who believed in the harmony of death.
A hero’s death—for Drew, for Dorothy, and for all of humanity.
THE END
<<<<<>>>>>
We hope you enjoyed Reversion, the final book in the Narrows of Time Series.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jay J. Falconer is an author, publisher, blogger, editor, full-time engineer and Sci-Fi junkie who lives in the mountains of northern Arizona where the brisk, clean air and stunning mountain views inspire his workday.
He makes his on-line home at www.JayFalconer.com and is the author of the critically acclaimed Narrows of Time Series and the Emily Heart Time Jumper Series.
If the mood strikes you, please use the Contact the Author form on his website to connect with him. Mr. Falconer would love to hear from you. He personally reads and responds to all inquiries.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
CONTENTS
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
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12
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Reversion (The Narrows of Time Series Book 3) Page 35
