Time-Travel Duo

by James Paddock

  “Of course we have a choice,” Bradshaw said. “We can just say no.” He looked at Annie. “Why is this so important to you if you already know you cannot stop Tony’s death? What could you possibly do to make it any better?”

  “Damn it! Why can’t you guys just take my word for it? It’s private! Okay?” She turned to stomp back to her chair. Tony, with his shoes in his hand and wearing the famous Tony grin, jumped into her inner vision and she felt her tight jaw of anger and the burn of her evil words on her tongue. Her legs went weak. “How many ways can I say private, or it’s none of your business?” She took two steps and the light from the gas lantern seemed to dim away. Still, she managed to shuffle to her chair where she found hands on her arms.

  “Get her some water,” a voice said.

  The hands helped her sit and then pushed her head between her knees. The RV door slammed shut, her grandfather coughed endlessly and the men backed off. Seconds ticked by and she continued to lean forward with her elbows on her knees, her head down. The RV door slammed again. She watched Charles’ big feet approach, and then suddenly there was ice cold water running down the back of her neck.

  “Eeek!” She screamed and came upright. “What the hell?”

  Charles was dancing away, a near empty mug in his hand and a grin on his face. “Now we’re even.”

  Chapter 62

  June 16, 2007

  Annie wiped the palms of her hands across the cargo pants that she’d been wearing since the previous morning and suddenly realized her state. She was about to meet with her husband and she had to be stinking to high-heaven. She wanted to ask Professor Bradshaw if she smelled, but instead, inched a little away from him. She placed her fingers on the keyboard and typed, 1065 Chadwick Shores Dr., Sneads Ferry, NC, and then watched as Google Earth’s image of the Earth rotated slightly and then zoomed down to a finger of land along North Carolina’s eastern shore. She then activated the tool bar and brought the image even closer to get a better look at the house and the neighboring properties.

  “It’s a double lot with plenty of cover from the neighbors.” She clicked on the place-mark icon and then moved it to a spot well behind the house. “You could probably drop me here.” She pointed to the date at the bottom of the screen. “Although this image is a year and a half old we’ve done very little landscaping, so what we’re seeing is pretty much how it is right now.”

  “This is nice; circular drive, private pier. Whose is it?”

  “Mine.”

  “Really?”

  “I bought it when Tony received his orders to Camp Lejeune. It’s not far from the south gate. There was no way my husband was going to live in a barracks or some dinky little apartment. The long range plan was that after his deployment and after I finished up my masters I’d move there. Until then it was to provide a place to live for him and a couple of his married Marine buddies whose wives weren’t yet with them, and a place for us to be when I visited. I spent quite a few long weekends there so I know my way around.”

  Annie let loose of the mouse and pushed back in her chair. I wasn’t there that last night, though, was I? His buddies’ wives were. I’d decided my classes were more important.

  She pointed at the yellow push-pin on the screen. “There’s your coordinates and elevation. How much longer before we’re ready?”

  “Twenty minutes,” her grandfather said.

  Annie pushed up from the chair. “I need to use the bathroom and get some fresh air. Be back in twenty.”Annie looked around at what passed for the bathroom in the RV. Every time she was in there she felt claustrophobic. All her life she’d had her own bathroom, which was the size of a small bedroom. Not only was this one small—it couldn’t even compare to her closet—but it stank of men and looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in a month. The RV was little more than a week old. Even her dad didn’t keep his bathroom this bad.

  She looked around for anything that would make her more presentable for her husband but found only a mishmash variety of shaving cream, razors, mouthwash, toothpaste, aspirin, and cologne; oh, and a Speed Stick 24/7. There was no way, no matter how desperate, that she was going to touch her armpits with that. She needed to brush her teeth, but again, with what was available, that wasn’t an option. The Listerine mouthwash would have to do.

  She retrieved a clean cup from the kitchen and poured in some of the Listerine. She sipped up a small amount of the liquid and had started to swish it around in her mouth when she caught her reflection in the mirror.

  “HOLY CRAP!” The mouthwash exploded out in a spray. What didn’t leave her mouth she swallowed and then coughed out her nose. She screamed again and collapsed onto the toilet, coughing even more, tears streaming down her face.

  When she could finally see again she drank some water, took some deep breaths and inspected the bedraggled person in the mirror. “Even in my worst state I’ve never looked like this. What am I going to say when Tony’s asks what happened to me?” She carefully picked up a used towel, blocked out any thought about whose body it might have had been used on, and proceeded to wipe up the mess she had made with the mouthwash.

  She fetched her hair brush from her backpack, which she had earlier deposited in the RV, and proceeded to try to make some sense of her hair. She threw cold water on her face and wished she had some makeup. She was never much into powder, blush, eye-liner, lipstick and such, but there were times and now would certainly have been one of them. Cold water did nothing except maybe highlight the dark shadows under her eyes.

  She looked at her clothes and knew there was nothing she could do about a MIT sweatshirt with a huge food stain. Where the hell did that come from? She wiped at it with a wet cloth and made it worse. With no blow dryer in sight she filed the problem onto the “can’t do anything about it” shelf in her mind, next to her face. She looked down at her cargo pants and then put that on the same shelf. She couldn’t do anything about anything.

  “What is Tony going to say?

  “He’s going to say what he always says. ‘What’s important is not what’s on the outside, it’s what’s on the inside.’”

  She considered those words and realized how important it was that she do what she was about to do. When she parted with him at the airport that morning what was on her inside was anger. It was an acid that burned until the Marine officers showed up in her father’s driveway exactly two weeks later. Now it was an acid called grief and guilt, and it was burning even stronger.

  Annie was stuffing her hairbrush into her backpack when her grandfather came in.

  “Are you ready, Sweet Gums?”

  The use of the pet name stirred another emotion in her. Before too long she would never have the opportunity to hear those words from her grandfather again. She put her arms around him. How little and frail he had become.

  “I’m ready.”

  “Second thoughts? Not too late to back out.”

  She shook her head. “If anything, I’m more determined.” She took in and then blew out a lung full of air. “But I’m scared.”

  He was very quiet for a long time and said, “I can certainly understand that.”

  “Not about the time travel. I’m scared that . . .” Her voice gave out. She didn’t want to voice her fear out loud.

  “You’re scared that something will be different between you and Tony, that he won’t love you like he did before, or that you won’t love him.”

  She pulled back, surprised by his perception. She looked down at her feet. “It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

  “It’s about the fight before he left; is that right?”

  She nodded and then turned away. “Yes.” There it was again, and she nearly gagged on it. Guilt and selfishness. Tony was dead but she was more concerned about her guilt for wishing him so and about the fact that he probably loved her less because of it.

  Robert lowered his tired, sickened body into a chair. “I know exactly how you feel.”

  The tone of his voice brou
ght Annie back around. He looked depressed and defeated, her feelings exactly. “How?”

  “Thirty-one years ago, next month, when your mother was a young girl, her mother, Rebecca, and I had a fight. It was on Friday night, and we retreated to different corners of the house, to separate beds. We had all planned to go out together Saturday morning for a walk along the piers where the tall ships were berthed for the celebration of the country’s 200th birthday.”

  “I was told that you didn’t go because my mother was sick; that my grandmother went out by herself.”

  “Partially correct. Annabelle, your mother, had over-heard our fight the night before and that morning told her mother she didn’t feel well. She wasn’t really sick. She was angry because our differences ruined the family event she was looking forward to, which was to include a picnic breakfast in one of the parks near the piers. Yes, your grandmother went by herself. She was like that; stubborn and determined.” Robert’s voice rose to an angry pitch. “But it was because of our fight, not because Annabelle was sick.” He dropped his head and pulled his fingers through his hair. “It was my fault!”

  Surprised by the sudden outburst, Annie purposefully made her voice soft. “What was the fight about?”

  Her grandfather shook his head. “For the life of me I cannot remember. It was 9:15 when Annabelle banged on my door. I never sleep that late, but there I was out like a light. I didn’t even know that Rebecca had gone. Annabelle had awakened me because there were policemen at the door.” He bowed his head and looked at his lap. “Rebecca was killed instantly, they said; probably didn’t see it coming.”

  Annie knelt beside him and put her arm around his shoulder.

  “Rebecca Patricia,” he said. “She’d be sixty-four years old now.”

  When Annie understood that her grandfather wasn’t going to say anything more, that he had made his point about understanding her, she stood. “Come on. Let’s do this. I came in here to try and make myself presentable for my husband. He’s going to get what he gets.”

  “You’re beautiful,” he said and pushed back to his feet.

  She faked a laugh. “Do all grandfathers lie that badly, or is it just MIT professors?”

  “I never lie when I’m talking about my granddaughter. Every time I look at you I see your mother and then I remember the first time I laid eyes on your grandmother in a smoky nightclub in Chicago the summer of ‘62.”

  She hooked her arm through his. “Enough of the old talk. How about you walk me to my chamber?”

  “I would be honored,” he said, and they stepped out into the night.

  Chapter 63

  June 16, 2007

  The chamber was stuffy and felt smaller than the last time she was in it. And she was hot. She wanted to get rid of her jacket but didn’t dare. She should have thought of researching weather history on the east coast of North Carolina. It could be raining, or snowing for that matter. For sure it was going to be cold in the middle of the night in January. She hoped she didn’t land in a mud puddle, or a half frozen slush puddle.

  She touched the seeker to be sure it was still attached to her belt, felt the button that her grandfather had installed. A simple trip to Radio Shack, he’d said. “What if I hit it by accident?” she’d asked. He had a simple answer. “Hit it twice when you want to come home. Twice within five seconds. Anything else we’ll ignore.”

  “What if I hit it twice by accident?”

  “What do you suggest? Send Morris code with it? What I would recommend is not hit it by accident at all. Next time I’ll inset the button so that you have to have something pointed to press it.”

  “Good idea,” she’d said and then crawled into the chamber. As she settled she had thought to herself, Who said there would be a next time?

  “Mass index is 19.9. Weight is 51 kilograms exactly.”

  “I’ve ballooned up over a pound since last time. What gives?”

  Professor Bradshaw looked at her across the top of his glasses. “Additional clothing.” He turned back to his computer and said, “Standby. Ready in the plant?”

  Professor Grae said. “Cleared to proceed.”

  “Engage SMMUDWAGEN.”

  Annie put on her ear protection, effectively tuning out the exchange, and rested her head on her knees, her eyes closed inside her goggles. Well mom, here I go, following in your footsteps. I know where I go, but where is it going to get me? What kind of huge mistake am I making?

  Is it a mistake at all? I woke up naked early that morning, on top of my covers, didn’t I? Two hours I was gone, floating somewhere in the nether. Okay, maybe not the nether; that’s below earth. Probably floating in the nowhere.

  What is Tony going to say? Good God, how many times have I asked myself that! What am I going to say standing at his door with frozen mud hanging off my butt? I’m traveling nearly five months and 2100 miles in an instant and I don’t even have a plan.

  “Annie!”

  Bradshaw’s voice pulled Annie from her thoughts. She looked up at him.

  “You ready?”

  She raised a fist with her thumb up.

  “SMMUDWAGEN engaged,” her grandfather said.

  “Thirty seconds,” Bradshaw said.

  “Twenty seconds . . . Ten seconds.”

  Annie pulled her knees up tight and rested her forehead on them.

  “Five seconds.

  “Initiating,” was the last thing Annie heard before the whine. Tony’s face floated in her mind’s eye for several seconds before the silent darkness enveloped her.

  Chapter 64

  January 25, 2007

  Shocked by the sudden bite of cold night air, Annie inhaled. Salty air filled her senses, sending her lungs into a glorious dance. She hadn’t realized how much she missed the ocean smells, the taste of salt on her tongue, the feel of it on her skin. What she didn’t feel, she was pleased to note, was water, frozen or otherwise, under her butt. She was sitting on dry, but cold ground. It was dark, very dark, and she didn’t even think to bring a flashlight. She pulled off her goggles. It was still dark. She rose to her feet and looked to the east, across Chadwick Bay, across Stump Sound and pin-prick lights of a few homes, and then beyond to what she knew was the open sea, the horizon defined only by the lack of stars below an invisible line.

  As her eyes adjusted she realized that there was just enough light around her that she could make out a few shapes; a couple of bushes, a sand dune, the small rock wall she and Tony had built because he wanted to plant a magnolia tree behind it. She didn’t understand the rock wall, never understood landscaping. Why not just put the tree in the middle of the yard and be done with it? He had assigned her to plant it in the spring while he was away. The planting never happened. After his death she’d had no desire to come here, expected that she would eventually return only to clean out the house and place it on the market, or she wouldn’t come and would, instead, hire an agency to do it for her.

  She turned around to find the source of light. The blinds were pulled full open on the second story sliding glass door that opened out onto the deck. The illumination from a series of lights inset in the ceiling spilled out onto the deck and beyond to the portion of the yard in which she stood. That was their bedroom, their deck. Her heart quickened as she realized that Tony was probably in that room right now, and he was awake. She had wondered what she was going to do—ring the doorbell and wake up everyone? She knew that the other wives were here, likely snuggled up with their husbands for their last night together. She glanced left and right at the end bedrooms to be sure she wasn’t observed arriving. Windows and blinds were closed. She was the only one of the three who didn’t come. What kind of wife was she, caring more about her classes and her academics than her husband?

  She moved forward to the bottom of the stairs leading up to the master bedroom deck. She couldn’t have planned this any better, to be able to see and talk to Tony without fear of running into anyone else. The stairs went three quarters of the way up in one
direction, and then reversed on a landing for the remaining way. She climbed to the turn and then stopped to think about what she was about to do. Her finger slid lightly over the button on the seeker.

  Don’t chicken out now, Elizabeth Anne.

  The voice in her head was suddenly different than the voice that usually talked to her. It was more authoritative, and it used her full, proper name. That’s most likely how my mother would have talked to me. Although she understood that it was she who was projecting her mother into her own head, she took the words as advice that demanded to be heeded, returned her hand to the rail, and began the final ascent.

  Once on the deck she removed her ear protection, stuffed it and the goggles into an interior pocket of her jacket and then stepped halfway across to the sliding glass door. The bedroom appeared to be empty, the bed, what she could see of it, still made. Tony was a make-the-bed-freak, a neatness freak when you came right down to it. The alarm would go off in the morning and she’d get up to pee, intending on climbing back in for another fifteen minutes. When she’d return he’d have already made the bed. She’d set an empty mug down on the counter with the intent of using it again later and he’d have it in the dishwasher before she could turn around. It was one of those things she hated, and loved, about him.

  The remainder of the room was just as tidy as the bed. His duffle was on the floor near the door, open, awaiting whatever last minute things he had yet to throw in; the duffle that would show up at her door February 10th, five days after his death; the duffle that she stuffed into a closet, unopened, and which now resided in her father’s basement, still unopened.

  She touched the seeker button again and then stepped up closer to the door, her heart racing, her breathing rapid in anticipation that at any moment he might appear. A dog barked a few houses away and then barked again. A male voice yelled something. The barking ceased. She touched the handle on the door. Expecting that it would be locked, she tested it. It slid easily to the side and she stepped in, pulling it closed behind her.