Time-Travel Duo

by James Paddock

“I don’t think so,” Robert said. “She’s still in grief over Tony. I don’t think another guy will get her attention for a long while yet. But Charles might be right. Howard and I can relate to her and how she’s feeling. Maybe we should both go.” He looked over at Professor Grae. “What do you say to a trip out to Montana? Can you clear your schedule?”

  “I’ve cleared the entire summer for this project, except for the Energy Research Council, and I’m such a small player in that they probably wouldn’t even miss me. I think it’s a great idea. What if we all go.”

  “All four of us?” Thomas’ astonishment surprised even him.

  “It’d show her how serious we are.”

  “Better yet, let’s take the entire show.”

  Everyone looked at Robert.

  “What?” Thomas said.

  “That’s impossible,” Howard said.

  “Remember how crazy you guys thought I was when I wanted to put this project inside a standard semi trailer? Eight feet wide, eight and a half feet high, and forty-eight feet long.”

  “Your argument was that if neighbors became suspicious that something was going on, we could easily relocate it.”

  “And you guys swore that it couldn’t be done. Well, we did it and it’s now going to pay off. We could set up anywhere.”

  “Who would we trust to haul it?”

  “I’ll buy a truck; drive it ourselves.”

  “None of us have that kind of license. It takes time, training, who knows what else, to get one. Would we trust someone like us, with the ink still wet on their OTR license, to haul what we have three thousand miles? And do you have any idea how many laws we would be violating when we start crossing state lines with a mobile nuclear power plant?”

  “We’re violating state and federal laws right now just by owning and operating one. What difference would crossing state lines make?”

  “First of all, here we are out of sight. Second we don’t risk the chance of a vehicle accident when we’re parked in a barn. An accident could not only draw attention to what we’re carrying, but in the worst case release radioactive material and turn us into a national disaster the likes of Three Mile Island.”

  “There are always risks in scientific advancement. You know that. Besides, you’re exaggerating.”

  “Maybe, but I still think it’s too much risk.” Howard looked to Thomas and Charles. “What do you guys think?”

  “I agree that we shouldn’t be the drivers,” Thomas said, “but I have no problem with the idea otherwise.”

  “My idea was just one person go see Annie,” Charles said. “Teach me to open my mouth.” He looked at his empty glass and set it down. “It’s risky, but I’m okay with it, though I agree with Thomas; we are not drivers.”

  Thomas added, “I have no problem with hiring a couple of the best drivers we can find, maybe a husband and wife team. Slip them enough money so they won’t ask questions. I don’t think OTR drivers care what they’re carrying as long as they get paid. One or two of us could fly ahead and secure a location, prepare the way. The others would stay with the truck 24/7.”

  The three of them looked at Howard. “I still don’t know,” he said. “What about outside power? We can’t guarantee we would have that.”

  Robert said, “That’s what we have the generator for, and the battery banks. There’s also a river nearby, just like our Nashua River that we have here, so water replenishment for the reverse osmosis system won’t be a problem. We’ll go into the nearest city and purchase an RV big enough for the four of us to live in, get fishing gear and clothing for a cover.”

  “I could enjoy a little fishing,” Thomas added in, “just for cover of course.”

  “You haven’t fished a day in your life, Thomas.”

  “I have. My father took me when I was eight.”

  “A regular angler,” Howard said.

  “Actually I hated it. I’m willing to try it again . . . for science.”

  Robert said. “How long would it take us to get secured and sealed?”

  “Two, three days,” Thomas said.

  Robert nodded his head. “Another couple of days to take care of MIT business, turn duties over to someone else, whatever. I’d say we should plan to be on the road next Monday.” He looked at the only person still dragging his feet. “Howard?”

  “Fine, I guess. It would be good to get away for a while.”

  Robert pushed to his feet. “Let’s do it, then. Let’s go out and take a look, do a little brainstorming and white-boarding.” He headed for the door, the other three right behind him. “I kind of like this idea. Have always worried about the neighbors here.”

  “There are no neighbors,” Charles said.

  “Not within sight, no. This is a close community around here, and anything out of the ordinary raises an eyebrow. So far I’m just an old geezer with a couple of friends who drop by now and then.”

  Thomas laughed. “They probably think we play poker, if they think anything.”

  “You’d be surprised what the old biddies think,” Robert said. “I’m more and more liking the idea of moving this somewhere more remote, if only for the summer.”

  “It’s such a great old barn, though,” Charles said as they crossed the thirty yards to the huge sun faded doors, which, along with the barn, used to be barnyard red. As best as Robert could find out when he bought the place the barn hadn’t seen fresh paint in more than twenty years, which was just fine with him. He didn’t need something that would attract attention. They passed by the big doors, which could only be opened from the inside, to the smaller human access just to the left. The lock on this door, though functional, was strictly for show. Robert inserted his key and opened the hasp. Anyone else who could get this far would get no further. Pushing or pulling on the doors would gain no more access than if there were a dozen high security deadbolts running top to bottom, only there would be no visible reason why.

  Robert reached into his pocket and removed a device that looked like nothing more than a remote for a car. He pushed one of two buttons. The only visible thing that happened was a brief flash of a red LED imbedded into what appeared to be an old nail hole to the right of the door. You wouldn’t see it unless you were looking directly at it. If you were very still and had exceptional hearing, and there was no wind blowing, you might hear the simultaneous release of eight locking mechanisms. From the time the LED flashed, Robert knew he had only five seconds to open the door before the locks silently reengaged. Charles did the honors and pulled the unusually heavy door open. Once inside with the door pulled closed, the locks automatically reengaged.

  The interior of the barn gave off a faint odor of hay and feed. Otherwise it was very clean. The only equipment left behind was an inoperable mid-twentieth century tractor parked to one side shedding its own odor of oil and rust. The semi trailer sat directly in front of them; an electrical generator and an air-conditioning unit hung on the front like a couple of cancerous growths. They walked down the left side and climbed five steps onto a large wood platform to gain access to a single side door. This door was secured with a cipher lock and thumbprint reader. Robert entered an eight-digit pass code, which did nothing more than activate the thumbprint reader. He inserted his thumb, waited for the system to read and confirm his identity, listened to the locks disengage, and then pulled the door open.

  “We need to test the generator,” Thomas advised as they stepped into their hi-tech lab. “We haven’t lit it off since we hooked up external power a year and a half ago.”

  “That and the banks of power cells. I seem to remember when we put this together, Howard, you accused me of being too anal because of how I wanted to secure everything from moving.”

  “I didn’t think we’d ever move this thing, or if we did it wouldn’t be very far.”

  “I have to admit, I thought I was going a bit overboard as well. It’s going to save us a lot of work now. What little that isn’t secured we can pack in boxes and leave on the fl
oor.”

  Directly opposite the entry was a closet that held a network of power cells. To the right was the sealed entrance—also guarded by a pass code thumbprint system—to the power plant, which took up the front thirty feet of the container’s space. The forward most portion of that space contained the reactor vessel and boiler, surrounded by four inches of lead. The entire space, all 2000 cubic feet, was enclosed in an inch of lead, an additional barrier against radiation leakage should there ever be a breach of the walls containing the reactor vessel. The remainder of the space contained the steam driven turbine electric generator, and the power plant control board.

  The rear of the trailer contained the lab. There were only two chairs and just enough space for the other two to stand.

  Robert and Thomas sat. They all looked around. Against the back doors, which were secured both on the inside and outside, sat the chamber. It didn’t look anything like the one they constructed in Charleston, South Carolina twenty years earlier, though in concept, it was nearly identical. The difference was that this one was sound proofed. It was five foot on the sides and six foot tall. With the sound proofing insulation and a two-foot high platform there was just enough room for a small adult to sit comfortably with his legs crossed or his knees pulled up to his chest. It was from this chamber that they had sent Annie the satphone.

  “I renewed the registration just last month,” Robert said. “It should be ready to roll.”

  “First thing we should do is find the drivers,” Thomas said. “That might not be all that easy.”

  “Pay above the going rate, plus bonus, they’ll come to us. You’re right, though. We need to get that nailed down posthaste; get them out here to hook up and test the brakes and lights, lubricate whatever needs lubrication, make sure it’s road worthy.”

  “Why do you want to wait until we’re there to buy the RV?” Charles asked. “Why not buy it here?”

  “Okay,” Robert said. “Why not?”

  “We want to be able to easily stay with the truck,” Thomas said. “I’d rather do that with something smaller and more maneuverable than an RV. My Ford Explorer would be perfect. Has less than twenty thousand miles on it.”

  “You’d trust a Ford all the way across the country?” Charles said.

  “Funny,” Thomas said. “You should respect your elders.”

  “The drivers may want to sleep in their truck,” Robert said. “I wouldn’t relish spending a couple of nights in your Explorer, Thomas.”

  “If we get team drivers, I expect that they’ll drive straight through, and we’d have to stay with them.”

  “That means that one sleeps while one drives,” Charles said. “Good reason to have the RV. I’d rather sleep horizontal than be cramped in a passenger seat.”

  “Stretch out on the back seat.”

  “I’m six-two, and a bit bulky, if you haven’t noticed. No chance.”

  “We don’t need to haul more than food with us. Everything else can be packed into the lab. You can then stretch out in the back of the Explorer.”

  “Doesn’t sound very attractive.”

  “We all have to make sacrifices for science,” Thomas pointed out.

  “Let’s sacrifice Robert’s money and buy the RV tomorrow,” Charles said.

  “Howard?” Robert said. “Your thoughts?”

  “Since I’d be flying out with you, it really makes no difference to me. We’d have to have a vehicle while we’re there. Thomas’ Explorer makes sense.”

  “Is the Explorer big enough for the four of us to run around in?” Charles asked. “How about this. We pick up the RV here and drive it across. Not going to be that hard to stay with an eighteen-wheeler, especially with cell phones and CB radios. You guys pick up a Tahoe or Suburban when you get there.”

  “Those are Chevys. No damned better than Fords,” Howard said.

  “Than a Yukon or an Armada.”

  “Yukon is GMC; a bit better. What the hell is an Armada?”

  “Nissan. There is also the Toyota Sequoia.”

  “What are you, a walking encyclopedia of SUVs?”

  Robert held up his hands. “All right guys. We’ve got some decisions to make. Let’s sleep on the SUV and RV issue; take a vote in the morning. Meanwhile I’ll start researching how to go about hiring an OTR team. Howard and Thomas; you two start making a check-off list of what needs to be done to prepare this box for the trip, and what we might need to purchase either here or there. Charles, since you seem to be so knowledgeable on the subject, once the decision is made you’ll go out and search down the vehicle we decide on. When you find the best deal I’ll go in with the money.

  “Also, since we’ve decided to take the entire operation, who goes out ahead is not important. I don’t expect to make contact with Annie until we’re set up and ready to go hot. Sleep on that tonight and we’ll make the decision in the morning who flies out ahead and who chases the truck. We’ll then make flight reservations and start the ball rolling.”

  “Meet here in the morning?” Howard asked.

  “No. My place in Cambridge, say nine.”

  “I’ve got another idea,” Charles said.

  They all looked at the “kid” as they called him because he was nearly 25 years younger than Howard or Thomas, and 42 years younger than Robert. While they were talking he had been fooling on his laptop computer. He swiveled the screen around for all to see.

  “Let’s put this on the side.”

  “Absolutely not!” Howard said without a second thought. “We might as well put up flashing lights, too; tell everyone what we do.”

  “It’s just a play on words. No one will know what it really means except us.”

  “Than what’s the point?” Howard demanded. “I say no.”

  “I agree with Howard,” Thomas said. “We don’t want to attract attention of any kind. Plain Jane vanilla white on the outside, like it already is.”

  “How about small, just over the door?”

  Howard rolled his head up to the ceiling.

  “Another item to sleep on,” Robert said. “Shall we adjourn? We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.”

  Chapter 21

  June 6, 2007

  Annie awoke long before her alarm. She lay on her back and thought about Tony, about her grandfather, about Patrick, about Beth, and about why she was in Montana, and decided that something needed to be done or she was going to turn into a serious nutcase. She had told Patrick that she was here to get away from academia. Who was she trying to fool?

  She rolled out of bed, turned up the heat and then padded downstairs. While she waited for the coffee she matched the batteries with the flashlights and tested each one. Satisfied, she dropped the old flashlight in the trashcan.

  When the coffee was ready she carried her steaming mug and her computer upstairs, propped up the pillows and climbed back into bed.

  My dearest Tony,

  Things are going from bad to worse. Coming to Montana was a mistake, maybe a big mistake. I thought that getting away from Boston and school would keep me from running into places and people who would remind me of you. It’s not working. Now I have too much time on my hands and so often my idle thoughts turn to you.

  Yesterday I

  Annie stopped, completely lifting her fingers from the keys. Was she really about ready to tell her husband that she had met a guy, that in the middle of having fun doing something she had never done before, he suddenly looked just like him? She backspaced her last two words.

  The problem is you’re still here. You’re like a ghost who keeps haunting me and it’s starting to make me mad.

  No! I’m not mad. I want you here. I want you here so bad it hurts, but you can never be here except in my mind and that’s not enough, and it’s not healthy. I need you to go away.

  She stopped again and stared at her last sentence, guilt rising up inside her. She swiped the cursor across the six words, hit the backspace key and then returned her fingers to the keyboard.

&n
bsp; I think it would be better if you went away.

  She erased that line as well and then for a long time only stared at the blinking cursor. She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair.

  I like the idea that you might be here with me, hanging around like my guardian angel. How long will you stay, or does that depend on me? I don’t like the idea of forgetting about you, but I know I have to move on eventually. It’s only been three months. Many say it takes a year or longer so I shouldn’t be in a hurry, right?

  She stopped and read what she had written.

  Are you a ghost or my guardian angel, or just a figment of my imagination?

  She sipped at her coffee and thought about her previous afternoon. She liked Patrick and she didn’t get the feeling he was anything other than what he portrayed himself to be. He was a working bloke, as Mary would say, with a college education, full of dreams, a bit of a romantic, patriotic. Tony was patriotic, too. The difference was that Patrick came back alive.

  She wanted to write all those things down, but no matter how she tried to convince herself that it didn’t make any difference, she couldn’t bring herself to write about another man in a letter to Tony, even if it was only her journal. She saved and closed the file and then started a new one, calling it simply my journal.

  June 6, 2007

  From here on out I will try not to write to Tony. If I feel the need to I’ll do so in that journal. This is me writing to the world, but only I will ever read it, at least until after I’m dead and my great-grandchildren find it.

  No. If I think that even they might read this I’ll be less likely to write some things. I’ll put it in my will that all my journals are to be destroyed, unread, when I die.

  Yesterday I forgot that it was the three-month anniversary since Tony was killed, and I felt really guilty, like I was starting to forget about him. I don’t want to forget about him. I just don’t want to remember him at the wrong times.

  I am really angry with Tony for leaving me. I am angry at the United States for getting involved in this thing. I am angry at Osama bin Laden for his crazy ideas and his hatred toward everything western, and for his killing so many innocent people and forcing us into a war against him and everyone like him. I am angry with the United States Marines for sending my Tony over there. I am angry with God and Allah, whether they are different or the same, for it is claimed that there is only one God. I am angry because He allows His people to come up with evil interpretations of His words, and because He allows His people to do evil things. I am most angry with Tony for joining the Marines, for thinking he could make some kind of difference. I am most angry with Tony for driving near that roadside bomb. I am white with fury angry at whoever put that bomb where my Tony could drive near it.