Time-Travel Duo

by James Paddock

  Annie leaned back and considered his offer. “I’ve already eaten.”

  “Then it’s desert. There’s a Dairy Queen not far from here. My treat.”

  “Your treat makes it a date. I don’t want a date.”

  “Then we’ll split it like friends. How can you possibly say no to ice-cream?”

  “Fine, but I’m not talking about my woes.”

  “Actually, I wanted to talk about mine.”

  She laughed and picked up her bag of flashlights. “I’ll follow you.”

  Chapter 19

  June 5, 2007

  They sat on cement benches at an outdoor cement table. Patrick had all but inhaled a cheeseburger while Annie slowly made her way through a banana split. He went back inside and returned with a rocky road ice cream cone. They hadn’t talked about any woes, he doing most of the talking, a variety of funny stories about his university life.

  “I graduated a year ago. Can’t believe I’m still here at Wal-Mart. Figured I’d have conquered the world by now, or at least was CEO of my own company.”

  “Why?”

  “Why am I still at Wal-Mart?”

  “No. Why do you want your own company?”

  “Doesn’t everybody?”

  “I don’t. I also don’t know anyone near my age who does?”

  “Yeah, but you’re fresh out of high school, I’ll bet. Once you’ve got that college degree, things change. You enter college ready to party, come out ready to get serious. Something happens in the middle.”

  They hadn’t talked about her at all. She didn’t get the feeling Patrick was the type who was always talking about himself. He was waiting for her to crack her own door, and she wasn’t so sure that she even wanted to unlock it.

  “Did I just put my rubberized walking device in my mouth?”

  Annie raised her eyebrows at him.

  “You’re not fresh out of high school, are you? What a stupid thing to say.”

  Annie shook her head, knowing where he was driving the conversation. He had made the high school statement to force her into a rebuttal. She refused to submit.

  “So you’re in college, aren’t you? On summer break. That would make you at least a sophomore now, right?”

  “At least. What kind of company do you want to own?”

  He pointed his ice-cream cone at her. “You’re trying my own tricks on me. I’ve talked enough about my life. Tell me something about yours. No woes. Just life. You grew up in Boston, right?”

  “Around there.” She scooped out another bite of her banana split.

  “Public or private school?”

  “Private.”

  “Rich or smart?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Kids go to private school because they’re rich or because they’re smart.”

  “Ah.” She thought about it for a minute. Despite herself, she was warming up to him. Maybe it was a stomach full of ice-cream, mixed with nuts, strawberries, caramel, chocolate, whipped cream and banana, and her metabolism going crazy trying to deal with it. “Both.”

  He leaned forward on the table and concentrated on the side of the cone until he was satisfied nothing was going to fall off. “With that combination you probably had private tutors, meaning you graduated early. Thus you are likely going into your junior year.”

  “At least. Never had private tutors. Would you want to start your company here in Montana or go someplace else?”

  “Haven’t put that much thought into it. Don’t tell me you’re a senior?”

  “At least. What about becoming CEO of Wal-Mart.”

  “Entirely possible. The current CEO started out rounding up shopping carts. Didn’t you say you were nineteen?”

  “Have you rounded up shopping carts yet?”

  “You said you were nineteen. I remember that. Nineteen and at least a college senior. That doesn’t compute, and I’m not bad at math. There’s no way you’ve already graduated.”

  “At least. When are you going to start?”

  “Start what?”

  “Pushing carts. How are you going to become CEO?”

  “You’ve graduated?”

  “At least.”

  He said nothing else until he had finished the cone. He picked up all the napkins and paper, as well as her empty banana split bowl, carried them to the trash and then came back and sat down. “How long have you been here, on vacation?”

  “Just over a week.”

  “Since most graduations were this last weekend I’m going to venture to guess that you didn’t graduate this year, that you just finished your first year of graduate study.”

  “Lots of graduations are in May.”

  “Maybe so, but I’m not wrong, am I? You didn’t say, ‘at least’ so I finally learned something about you, as unbelievable as it is. You had to have entered college when you were fifteen.”

  “And two months.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “To be truthful I never realized how strange it was until I came out here. Uncommon, yes; but not strange. Here I’m treated like I have a couple of extra arms. Four years after I get my Masters people I meet won’t give it a second thought because they won’t necessarily ask when I graduated. Right now it’s a pain in the ass.”

  Patrick held up his hands. “Sorry. I didn’t realize I was striking a nerve. I think it’s cool as hell.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course. Fifteen and through with high school. Any kid would have envied that.”

  “Then I might as well come out with the rest of it instead of putting you through more of having to pry it out of me. I just finished my fifth year at MIT.” She pointed her finger at him. “See. There’s that look at just mentioning MIT. It’s not the moon you know. My undergraduate degree is in Nuclear Science and Engineering. My graduate study is a mix of quantum and plasma physics and fusion technology. I do expect to continue on with my doctorial. I’m told from testing, though I have my doubts about those things, that my IQ is 188, ten and twelve points higher than my mother and father, respectively. I feel normal, or what I perceive as normal, though I am at times a little high strung. I’m not like an idiot savant who is exceptional at only one thing, but who can hardly feed himself or talk to people.” She stopped for a second to put that thought, and the sudden image of Brad away for further exploration later. “I’m exceptional at everything and I have no problem making or ingesting food or conversing on any subject. I’m a walking computer with a photographic memory to the max. That last is a paraphrased quote from one of my professors.”

  He stared at her, momentarily at a loss for words.

  “That’s it. If you’re reevaluating me from cool to freak, that’s fine. I’m not divulging anything more. I really don’t like talking about myself. It makes me uncomfortable.”

  His eyes drifted down to her chest. “Is that where you keep your other two arms?”

  She snorted a laugh.

  “Did I mention that I’ve got a degree in forestry?”

  “I am truly impressed.”

  “Do you play miniature golf?”

  “Golf?”

  “Miniature golf. With miniature clubs on a miniature course.”

  “I know what miniature golf is. I’ve never played it. Isn’t it usually played by miniature people, or big people with miniature minds?”

  “You have lived a sheltered life, haven’t you?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “It’s about time you learned how we, those of us with miniature minds, do things.”

  “I don’t know. I’m not good with physical stuff.”

  “It’s not about good or bad. It’s about fun.” He swung around, stood up, and grabbed her hand. “Come on.”

  They parked side-by-side in the lot at Big Sky Waterslide on the edge of Columbia Falls. He was at her door and pulling it open before she had a chance to do it herself. “Where in Columbia Falls are you staying?” he asked.

  “Actually it’s not in Col
umbia Falls. Have to go through to get there, though. About ten miles north. It’s called Grizzly Ranch.”

  “Ah.”

  “You’ve heard of it?”

  “Sort of. You ready?”

  She leaned against the car and looked at the miniature golf course—five adults and four children, that she could see, were playing—and then at the huge water park and slide network that had a lot more activity and that seemed to go on forever. “This is huge.”

  He pressed his backside against the car right next to her. “Biggest in Montana.”

  “I’ve been here.”

  “I thought you said you’ve never done this.”

  “I’ve never played miniature golf. I’ve done the waterslides once. Didn’t even remember until just now. It was right here, when I was twelve. The only vacation dad and I had ever been on.”

  “Another clue to the fact that you led a very sheltered life.”

  “I’ve never really thought of my life as sheltered because I’ve always been intellectual.” She continued to stare at the waterslide and the kids and adults laughing and screaming. “I know this should be fun, but it holds no attraction for me, didn’t eight years ago. I did one slide and it scared me more than anything. I spent the rest of the time sitting in the pool in a blowup toy, watching the stupid antics of the other kids, wishing I had a book to read.”

  “So what brought you back here now for a vacation?”

  “Get away from Boston.”

  “But why here?”

  She thought about that for a half minute. “Glacier Park. That’s what I remember really enjoying. The majesty of it all, the mountains and the animals. I didn’t like all the people, but a couple of times we went for hikes and there were no people, or very few. Once it was just the two of us for a very long time and we came upon a waterfall with two deer drinking from the pool at the bottom. They both had antlers, just short little things with fuzz on them. When they saw us they took off and then I stood as close as I could get to the waterfall and looked up at it and felt the fine spray surround me and realized how small I was, how poetic the world was.”

  “Pretty heavy for a child.”

  “I was never a child; at least not a normal child. I always preferred the company of books, and not kid books with silly childish illustrations. I didn’t like my books talking down to me.”

  “Ah.” He nodded his head for a few seconds. “Maybe we shouldn’t play golf. We could go to the library instead.”

  She tilted her head at him and smiled. “Very funny. I’m here to get away from Boston. I’m here to get away from academia; papers, research, lectures, professors, and libraries. In a sense, I guess, I’m here to get away from everything intellectual, including books.”“Is there a boyfriend?”

  She looked away and bit down on her lip. “Are we going to play or what? You brought me here to have fun, right?”

  “Right?”

  She pushed away from the car. “I’m not doing that,” she pointed at the maze of water slides, “but I’m willing to try this golf thing. Glacier Park doesn’t open for another four days, so I guess I’ve got to pass the time doing something.”

  Despite herself, she laughed. Often it was because of one of Patrick’s antics, like using the club upside down, or acting like a blind man playing golf. One time he hit the ball off of their green and on to someone else’s, messing up that person’s shot. Annie retrieved the ball, apologized and returned it to Patrick, giggling. Three holes later when Annie couldn’t get her ball to go over a rise—it kept coming right back to her—Patrick stepped up behind her and put his arms around her, wrapping his fingers around her hands on the club.

  “Like this,” he said, and then launched the ball up the rise and across two other greens. “Oops!” He tried to fake being serious.

  She forced a laugh, uncomfortably aware of where his body touched her, and then broke away and rushed to retrieve the ball again. She became wrapped up in a battle of searching for the ball or fighting against a growing panic. Just when she thought she was going to succumb to panic a hand appeared in front of her.

  “Are you looking for this, Miss?”

  The hand snapped into focus and it was holding a ball. “I’m sorry,” Annie said to the same person she apologized to earlier.

  “Are you okay?”

  She took a deep breath and blew it out. “Yes. Thank you.” She took the ball. “I’m embarrassed,” she lied.

  “I imagine. Maybe your boyfriend ought to be a bit more serious, or at least not make you chase after his mistakes.”

  “Yeah,” she said and picked her way back to Patrick, fighting back real embarrassment instead of panic.

  And then on the thirteenth hole it happened. She took a deep breath, lined up on her shot and then spotted Tony on the edge of her peripheral where her good sight morphed into that fuzzy unknown. Her head snapped around and Patrick came into full focus, grinning Tony’s grin. She exhaled the entire breath and then slowly turned, dropped the club, and walked away, off the course, out to the parking lot and into her car.

  That’s where Patrick found her a minute later. He climbed in the passenger side and took her hand. She made no effort to pull away or to hide the huge tears rolling down her face. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Sorry about what? What happened?”

  “I’m not ready.”

  “Okay. That’s okay. Can you tell me about it?”

  She shook her head, wiped at her face and sniffled several times. “I don’t . . . I can’t. I came here to get away from it, but it’s getting worse.”

  For a long time he didn’t say anything, just sat with both of his hands cupped around hers, his eyes watching her face. “It must have been pretty bad.”

  “About as bad as it can get.” She pulled her hand away and started fumbling with her keys. “I’ve got to go. I’m sorry.”

  “Maybe you should . . .”

  “No! I shouldn’t anything!” She started the car. “Please . . .” She clamped and unclamped her jaw. “Please get out.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. Just go! Get out! Now!”

  Patrick pushed the door open and slowly got out. He looked back in, started to say something and then closed the door.

  Annie backed out of the space and accelerated across the parking lot, glancing back in her mirror only once, just before turning onto Highway 2. He was still standing where she left him, looking as hurt and confused as a dog that had just been dumped on the side of the road by his master.

  When Annie got back to her cabin she dropped her flashlight purchases on the sofa, climbed to the loft bedroom and curled up under the covers. She didn’t sleep. Instead she watched the shift of light on the walls until it faded away and all that was left was a sliver from the security light. She knew Mary would wonder where she had been, and when she didn’t show at the nightly campfire, would come looking for her. Just as Annie had that thought there came a knock at her door. She didn’t want to talk to Mary. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, except Beth, and that was completely out because all Beth wanted to talk about was her own problems.

  The knock came again and then there was silence, and after a time, Annie slept.

  Chapter 20

  June 5, 2007

  “So now what?” Thomas said. He was looking down at Robert Hair, his hands thrust deep in his pockets.

  “We wait. She’ll change her mind.”

  “You haven’t been right about anything yet.”

  “Thomas,” Howard said. “I have to agree with Robert. All we can do is wait. I thought she would be more responsive, too.”

  “She’s not responsive at all.”

  “She followed my instructions and found the satphone,” Robert said, “in the middle of the night no less. She could have ignored my email, but she didn’t. Now the seed has been planted. The ball is in her court, so to speak.”

  “She can’t return the ball if she doesn’t pick up the
racket.”

  “She picked up the racket when she found the phone and called me. She’s in the game whether she thinks she is or not.”

  “And then she turned the phone off. She may have the racket but she’s put it back in the bag. What if she tells her father? If she’s against this, she just might.”

  “I don’t think she will.”

  “Wasn’t she at all impressed by the successful quantum teleportation?” Thomas asked.

  “Not in the least. Remember, she’s a product of full-blown time travel herself and blames it in part for her mother’s death. She’s past the point of being impressed by a simple teleportation.”

  “We should have thought of this in the beginning,” Howard said.

  “I don’t think it would have made a lot of difference. She’s barely over 50 kilograms, if even that much. What are you guys? At least 80 kilograms? Well over a hundred in your case Charles. I’m at 150 pounds, which is 68 kilograms. That’s still a bit too much. We would have to go back to the beginning and start over to build this to handle the higher power requirements. We’d no longer fit into a tractor-trailer. We’d have to have a building. Annie is the only person who is the right size who has the knowledge and who we can trust.”

  “We can put you on a diet, Robert,” Thomas said, “Knock about 20 pounds off of you. If we can get it under 60 kilograms, it might do it.”

  “Maybe one of us should go there.” Robert, Howard and Thomas looked over at Charles Walshe. “I don’t mean me. I’m the last person she’d listen to. She doesn’t much like me. And she doesn’t really know Thomas. I think it should be you Professor Grae, or you Doctor Hair.”

  “I don’t know,” Robert said.

  “She trusts both of you. Maybe on her turf she’d be more likely to listen. The problem is it’s out of sight, out of mind. She’s out there in the middle of nowhere with our project the last thing she needs to think about. We’ve got to keep it in her face and sending her email that she doesn’t read and a satphone that she turns off isn’t doing it.”

  “She’s probably being swept off her feet by a Montana cowboy,” Thomas said.