Time-Travel Duo

by James Paddock

  Two days later, again sporting the uniform of Charleston’s finest, James Lamric said so long to his little brother. With his arm around his mother, he watched the train until it disappeared out of sight. Maybe it’s the right thing, he thought. “Somebody has to stay and take care of Mom,” his brother had reminded him. It was a sad day.

  “Well, what do you think, Roger?” James Lamric asked as they slowly wandered up Calhoun Street. “I can’t believe this war has gone on for two and a half years now.” Roger shook his mane and snorted, then looked back, giving James the eye. “My thoughts exactly,” said James, slapping Roger a few times on the side of the neck. “Someday it will be over and we’ll have Johnny back for good.”

  James was glad it had been a quiet, uneventful afternoon. He managed to wait out the rain in relative dryness, then in the cool of the evening rode the beat and watched the sunset, one of the most unusual he had ever seen. Yellows and golds and billows of pinks and violets streaked across the horizon.

  He decided to alter his routine, something he knew he should do more often, and go by Roper Hospital. The thought of one of their cups of coffee sounded appealing. When he rounded the side of the building and started toward the main entrance, he saw a woman come out, rush into the middle of the street, and then stop. As he got closer, he saw she was pregnant and looked scared. He signaled Roger who immediately jumped to a fast canter and halted a well-trained ten feet away. James swung off as the lady let loose a painful moan.

  “Is there something wrong, Ma’am?” he questioned, upon which she collapsed into his arms. He gathered her up and with ease carried her back through the wooden doors of the hospital. The nurse receptionist urgently directed him to where he could lay her down, then went to summon the duty doctor. After a few seconds the woman opened her eyes.

  “Where am I?” she asked.

  “Roper Hospital, Ma’am.”

  “I know that... I mean... when am I?”

  James considered her confused state. “It’s 8:25 in the evening.”

  “What I mean is...”

  Nurse Turner walked through the door. “Well, if it isn’t the lady from Goose Creek,” she stated sarcastically. “I thought you left.”

  “She was out front, Nurse,” Officer Lamric explained. “She would have fainted if I had not caught her.”

  “Oh! I see. Couldn’t make it quite all the way to your HOSPITAL OF CHOICE. Do you know where Goose Creek is Officer Lamric? That’s where she says she’s from. You just go to Summerville and turn right. Isn’t that right, Mrs. Waring?”

  Anne closed her eyes. She had no comeback and didn’t really care. Something was wrong and there wasn’t anything funny about it. She had questions she was scared to ask, questions she didn’t even understand, questions she wished she could hide from.

  “So what is the problem this time?” the nurse continued

  “I believe my labor has begun,” Anne reported dryly.

  “Oh dear, I guess there’s no time to transfer you up to Trident whatever. It seems you’re stuck with us, your Hospital of Last Resort.” She opened a cabinet door and pulled out a clean gown. “Here, Hun. Let’s get you out of those clothes again. You’ll be more comfortable in this.” Her voice and manner softened. “We’ll take care of her now, Mr. Lamric. Doctor Bronson will be down in a minute.”

  James Lamric looked at Anne and smiled, then turned to walk out.

  “Officer. Could you do me a big favor and call my husband?”

  James turned back to Anne. “The hospital will do that, Ma’am.”

  She turned away from Nurse Turner and whispered, “They think I’m crazy.” I hope I’m not, she thought to herself. “Please?”

  He looked at the nurse who shrugged her shoulders. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a notebook and pencil. “Okay, give me the number.”

  “His name is Steven Waring.” She spelled Waring. “Our home number is 572-0899 and his work number is 743-2782.”

  James had stopped writing, his pencil poised in midair. Anne watched him and the nurse exchange looks. “The numbers don’t make sense,” he said.

  “Shit, what the hell’s going on around here? Why is it every time I say something, everyone makes me feel stupid?” Anne felt another release of pain. “Damn!” she uttered as it subsided. “Damn, damn, damn!”

  “I’ll check back later and see how you’re doing.” Officer Lamric said. He stuffed the notebook into his pocket and stepped out the door. That cup of coffee sure would hit the spot, he thought, and marched back toward the reception area. Instead of stopping for coffee, he continued on past the desk and back out the front doors to where Roger stood, dutifully waiting for further orders. James reached into the side bag and pulled out a carrot from his mother’s garden, Roger’s reward. He then led him off to a more appropriate waiting area and returned inside.

  “Well, Nurse Morgan, don’t you look charming tonight?”

  “Why, Mr. Lamric, I didn’t even think you were going to say hi,” she returned and handed him his coffee. “You should come by more often. But please, come alone next time. How are we going to get off to a romantic start if you show up with a woman in your arms?”

  James blushed. “I don’t know, Miss Morgan, I really don’t know.” Nurse Morgan often flirted with him whenever he stopped by. He playfully returned in kind, but it was only in fun. He had shunned romantic involvement for nearly a year now, after losing Carolyn Cross, his sweetheart of two years, to a sailor. Several times he had considered asking Miss Morgan to a movie, but either their work schedules conflicted or he simply chickened out. He wasn’t ready.

  Fifteen minutes later James was talking to Roger, who he found much easier to talk to than Nurse Morgan. “Can you make any sense of women?” He adjusted the tension on the saddle straps and then pulled a tool from a small saddlebag. He picked up one hoof and started prying out stones. “Miss Morgan is nice and all. And Mom is right. I should be looking for a woman, get married, start a family.”

  Roger snickered and allowed another hoof to be inspected.

  “But, Miss Morgan is not the one, Roger. Don’t know why I know, I just know. Maybe it’s because we have nothing to talk about. Or am I just being picky?” James continued until he removed the last stone then put the tool away. “That should feel better, Roger.”

  Roger nodded his head as though in agreement.

  “How about that Mrs. Waring?”

  Roger shook his head.

  “Yeah, I know she’s married and all, but what about someone like her? Smart and pretty. Soft too, and did you smell her?”

  Roger snickered again.

  “If she had a sister just like her, I think I could fall in love again.”

  Roger shook his head even more violently.

  “Okay, Roger. I’ll stop that talk. Let’s head toward the Battery. See if there are any kids who need to be sent home.”

  Chapter 6

  Friday ~ July 17, 1987 ~11:30 P.M.

  In his drive back to the Navy base, Steven stopped at a 24-hour grocery store. He took his time wandering the aisles of drugs, books and personal products, then only purchased a bottle of Tylenol.

  At the base gate, the Marine guard stepped out of his shack, gave Steven a longer look than usual, then waved him on. He passed by the shipyard, lit with the usual midnight activity, and continued on to the quieter, more secluded end of the base. As he came around the corner, in sight of Building 524, he saw that Jerry’s car was still sitting in the gravel lot. He stopped, considered his options, and then pulled into the lot of an adjacent building. He maneuvered the truck behind a tree and bush so he was screened from view, but could still see the lab and Jerry’s car. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine life without Anne, but couldn’t remember what it was like before her, before that January day in 1982, before Anne Hair entered his life.

  “What’s the author’s name?” asked the new library assistant.

  “I don’t know right off hand. It’s Howard o
r Henry, something with an H. I believe the title is, Acceleration and the Split Atom, A Hypothetical Study.”

  “You’re not sure of the author and maybe that’s the title.”

  “It’s more than I gave you yesterday.”

  “Yesterday I got lucky.”

  “I’ve been bragging all over the campus how this beautiful young female intellect is the new brain in the library. Don’t let me down now and destroy your image and my credibility.”

  She gave him a smile of exasperation, then walked toward the master catalogue. “All right, Mr. Waring, but this isn’t my job. Don’t they teach you geniuses anything about how to use the library?”

  “Sometimes we just run onto these impossible things. That’s why we have genius assistants like you around.”

  “I’ve tried to tell you before, I’m not a librarian. I’m just a shelver, you know, putting materials back on the shelves.”

  “Well, you’re over qualified for the job.”

  “Sit down or do whatever it is you need to do and I’ll let you know if I find it.”

  “Don’t you need this?” he asked, holding out the notepaper.

  “I looked at it once.”

  She hardly glanced at it, he thought.

  Steven sat where he could work on his paper and watch her at the same time. This girl intrigued him. There was a lot more to her than just shelver. She had an energetic intelligence. He actually found himself looking for excuses to come into the library, trying to get up the nerve to ask her out, or at least the nerve to ask for her name.

  Eventually he lost track of her, burying himself in his work. He had four books open and spread about and was writing feverishly when, suddenly, another book slammed down in front of him.

  “The author was Hair, 1969. You were moderately close on the title.”

  He opened it, thumbed through the pages and looked up at her. “How did you know this was what I wanted?”

  “Because, Mr. Waring, you’re writing on the effects of particle acceleration in a plutonium 3 environment under a high energy neutron bombardment. That I’m aware of, there are only three men in the United States – I don’t know about the world – who have studied and written about this particular phenomena. One of them is Dr. Robert Hair.” She dropped another book and a pamphlet in front of him. “Here are the other two.”

  “How did you know?”

  “You may be bright, Mr. Waring, but when it comes to research you suck egg. And I’m curious why you’re pursuing this theory when these highly intelligent nuclear scientists abandoned it?”

  Steven looked down at the books and back to her.

  “You’ve no idea, do you,” she said, “that someone else has already tried it? Well, read them and weep, Mr. Waring.”

  His mouth dropped open and she swept away, leaving him speechless. He remained so until she disappeared from view. When he realized he was staring at row after row of bookshelves, he recovered and attempted to return to his work. However, he kept finding the thought of her sneaking to the forefront of his mind. He would look up and not see her anywhere or he would find her re-shelving books in some distant part of the library, her long, golden brown hair whipping about her as she moved. Her tight ski pants and well-fitted sweater only added to his inability to concentrate on the research he was attempting to do.

  He was finally able to break his mind free from her as he discovered a chapter of Dr. Hair’s book dealing with a theory that he thought was his alone. The chapter deviated from the subject of the book in such a way as to say, “Oh, by the way, here is something I’ve been thinking about.” As he read, a chill ran down his back. He found mention of it again in each of the other two publications, both of which had been referenced in Dr. Hair’s book.

  Then, without his noticing her approach, she was standing next to him.

  “Would you like to meet him?”

  Her sudden presence startled him. He held up his pencil and looked at the lead point dangling at an angle.

  “Sorry,” she said.

  “Meet who?” he asked

  “Dr. Hair, who else?”

  “He’s here?”

  “Yes, in periodicals downstairs. He lives here, in Boston, and comes in often.”

  “Do you know him?”

  “Yes.”

  “I would love to meet him.”

  She stepped gracefully away then stopped and turned to him. “Are you coming?”

  “Right now?”

  “Yes, of course. I’ve already asked him. He’s only going to be here a few more minutes.”

  Steven noisily jumped up and followed her, like an eager puppy, the broken pencil clasped in his hand.

  “What did you say to him?” Steven asked as they navigated the stairs.

  “I told him there was a young, pompous and pretentious graduate student doing his thesis research and would very much like to meet him.”

  “You didn’t say that, did you?”

  “Well, maybe I left out young.”

  Steven stopped and looked down at her as she continued down the stairs. He realized that one thing he liked about her was her camaraderie and quick wit. She stopped and looked up at him with the softest blue eyes he had ever seen. She revealed a full set of perfectly white teeth. “Are you coming or what?”

  “Yes, yes. Of course,” Steven blurted as he caught up to her. “How do you know him?”

  “Oh, we go back years. He knew my mother pretty well.”

  As they entered periodicals, a middle aged but slightly graying gentleman looked up. He stood and stepped forward.

  “Dr. Hair, this is Steven Waring, the graduate student I told you about. Mr. Waring, this is Dr. Robert Hair.”

  “Dr. Hair, it’s a great honor to meet you,” Steven said as he eagerly shook his hand.

  “Anne said some good things about you. You’re doing your research in my field. I would be interested to know what, if anything new, you’ve discovered.”

  Anne quietly left the room.

  “Well sir, I’m still on the ground floor, however, looking over what you’ve written, I’m enthusiastic that many of my ideas fall right in line with yours.”

  “Have you had a chance to analyze the effects of hypo magnetic influence?”

  “Funny you should mention that. That has become the crux of my entire thesis. But even more interesting than that, is your chapter fourteen. You touched upon a totally different theory, one you called Nuclear Tri-Generation.”

  Dr. Hair smiled, “That was a foolish theory I injected to see if I could get a rise out of someone. I don’t think anyone even understood it enough to make comment. Never heard a peep, except for one of my colleagues who renamed it the ‘Hair Brain Theory’.” He became silent for a moment noticing a strange look on Steven’s face. “Well, Mr. Waring. What did you find so interesting about it?”

  “I call my theory Triple Jump Deviation. Other than the title, I could have written that chapter.”

  Dr. Hair’s eyebrows went up.

  “I was afraid to even tell anyone, figuring I would be labeled as nuts.”

  “You’re probably right.” He placed his hand on Steven’s arm then said very seriously, “Triple jump deviation? Interesting. Appropriate. I think we’re going to have to get together and talk. I’m rather rushed right now. Get my number from Anne and give me a call. Anytime this weekend would probably be good.”

  Anne returned with her purse in hand, wearing her coat, gloves and scarf. “I’m ready to go, Daddy.”

  “Well, if you would excuse me, I must go. Give me a call in the next day or so.”

  “Yes sir,” was all Steven Waring could manage to say as Anne smiled broadly at him and winked. She took her father’s arm and walked out of periodicals, through the entire length of the library and out of sight. He realized after a few minutes that he still had his mouth open and his hand clasped tight around the pencil. He looked around, then returned upstairs to gather his materials. There was no way he could concen
trate now. He wanted to know more about the Hair family, both Robert and his daughter.

  When Steven stepped out of the library the brisk northern New England wind bit at his bare skin, but he hardly noticed. His mind was swirling between Dr. Hair lending credence to his own “Hair Brain Theory” and his daughter, Anne. For the first time in his life someone had opened a gap between him and his academics.

  Saturday ~ July 18, 1987 ~ 12:38 A.M.

  Steven woke with a stiff neck, and a burning need to find Anne. Jerry’s car had not moved. He tried to imagine what Jerry was doing, why he was at the lab so late after sending everyone else home. If he was asleep on the sofa, could Steven get everything up and running and then trigger the event without waking him? He would have to try.

  Steven parked the truck next to the car, then with the bag slung over his shoulder, unlocked and entered the building. There was no sound, not even the hiss of the air conditioner. The old building creaked under his weight as he stopped to key into the lab. He gently closed the door then touched the light switch, illuminating banks of computers, control panels full of gages and switches, the glass cage and Jerry.

  “I expected you a little earlier,” Jerry said.

  Steven, momentarily startled, thought to say something to explain why he was there, then realizing the stupidity of it, walked over to a chair and sat down, the athletic bag in his lap.

  “You know I have to do this.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought any better of you if you didn’t try. But I would also expect that you would analyze the collected data first.” Jerry stood, a stack of computer printouts in his hand. “This Steven,” he waved them in the air, “Is the reason you can’t go,” and dropped them on the bag.

  Steven looked at him, waiting for the explanation. “Well, what does it say?” he demanded.

  “I’ll tell you, but you need to analyze it yourself. You’re the scientist, not me. It seems about the time you wanted to shut the system down, it was already on the verge of collapse. Anne overloaded it. The baseball was okay and Charlie would have been no problem. Actually, I believe we would have been all right up to about 30 kilograms.”