A five-foot wide framed painting hung on the wall. The image portrayed thirteen men on a sailboat in the middle of a nasty storm. One glowing face looked familiar to Martin.
“This painting is called Christ in the Storm on the Lake of Galilee,” Chris said. “It was painted by Rembrandt in 1633. Today it’s worth almost five million dollars. It’s been missing since 1990 from a major heist in Boston.”
He lowered the flashlight to a short table flushed against the wall. Baseball cards spread across every inch of it, and Martin saw one staring at him that sent chills down his spine. He reached for it with a trembling hand.
“Ahhh, so you know about the rare Honus Wagner card.” Chris grinned as he watched Martin. “That card is worth three million. In fact, it’s the rarest trading card in history.”
Martin held the card unsteadily in his hand, studying every inch of its orange background, Wagner’s pasty face and neatly parted brown hair, all the way down to the detailing on his gray uniform that read Pittsburgh in brown lettering.
“This is the holy grail of baseball cards. Aren’t there only a hundred of these left in the world?” Martin kept examining the card and wanted to pinch himself.
“Fifty seven still exist. Only 200 were printed to begin with.” Chris leaned back in his creaky chair.
“I don’t understand,” Martin said, not wanting to put the card down. “How do you have these? And why don’t you sell them? You’re sitting on seven million from these two items alone. You would never have to work another day!”
Chris shrugged. “I suppose I’m a busybody. It’s always been hard for me to relax and lounge. Besides, money is no issue for me. I don’t need $7 million.”
The mystery of this old man kept growing stranger as Martin learned more about him. Martin glimpsed around the room like a child in awe, even though most of it was left in darkness.
“Well, if you ever need someone to loan these cool things out to, just let me know. I can be that guy.” Martin tried to lighten the mood.
“That’s a generous offer, but I’ll keep these under wraps. I trust you won’t make any mention of what you saw in here, either?”
Martin nodded. “Of course not.”
“Good. I have an oath to keep the secrets of time.”
“Is there a reason this room is so dark? You developing photos in the back?” Martin sensed a shift in the mood and tried to make the old man laugh. It didn’t work, and all he wanted was to get the hell out of this dark closet.
“I build things in here. Like I said, I’m the keeper of time, and I need to make sure I can preserve all parts of history.”
Martin nodded slowly, not sure how to respond.
“Would you like to see?” Chris asked, raising the pitch in his voice. He grinned. “You might have an interest in what I’m working on in here.”
“Okay, sure,” Martin said, now trying to hide the fear in his wavering voice.
“Come!” Chris said and stood with a youthful spring in his legs.
Martin watched as Chris disappeared into the darkness, footsteps fading away before coming to a halt. A fluorescent light flickered to life, revealing a tall black countertop covered with beakers, piles of a sand-like substance, and a microscope.
“You’re a mad scientist on the side?”
Chris walked behind the counter and pulled open a drawer. “Something like that,” he snickered.
His skeletal fingers rose from the drawer with a small red pill pinched between his index finger and thumb. He placed the pill gently on the counter as Martin watched with cautious eyes.
“Martin. I feel like I can trust you. Quite frankly, it doesn’t matter if you trust me back, but I believe I can be of service to you.” Chris spoke with sharp enunciation on every word. “I’m going to tell you something. You’re probably not going to believe me. Again, that doesn’t matter, because what I tell you is true.”
Martin subconsciously took a step backwards as he noticed a slightly crazed look appear in the old man’s eyes.
“You see this pill?” he asked, holding up a small white pill pinched between his bony fingers. “If you swallow this pill, you’ll fall asleep within minutes. When you wake up, you’ll be in March of 1996, right here in Larkwood, Colorado. You’ll be your current self in the flesh. You’ll appear for everyone else to see, including your past self.”
Martin gazed at Chris and wasn’t sure if he should laugh or run out the door. He looked out the corner of his eye and noticed the door had disappeared. It was pure blackness where it had just been moments ago. His legs froze and a lump formed in his throat. What the fuck?
“Relax,” Chris said calmly. “I know this is a lot to take in, but hear me out. You can go back to 1996 and find out what happened to your daughter.”
Martin remained frozen, but regained his ability to speak. “That’s crazy. You’re obviously making your own drugs back here. You should—”
“Get some mental help?” Chris completed Martin’s sentence.
Where the hell is the door?
“Now how would I know you would say that?” Chris spoke tauntingly, like a bully goading Martin on. “Perhaps, I took a peek into the future to see your reaction. Perhaps I already knew how you’d respond, and have an offer for you to give it a test run. Would you like to give it a try?”
“You’re—”
“Crazy. Yes, yes, I know. And you’re in denial. I have a pill that will take you back to this afternoon right when you got off work. I could’ve made you relive the work day, but that seemed a bit harsh.” Chris checked his watch. “It’s almost 7 P.M. If you take this pill, you’ll return to four o’clock, just as you started your drive home. Like I mentioned, your current self returns to the past and is very much part of the world. You’ll be here because when you fall back into the past, you’ll awake where you took the pill. You can either wait around here until you arrive shortly after six to buy the ring, or you can take my car out back and meet yourself at home.”
Martin gulped. His mind told him the old man was full of shit and it was time to leave. His gut, however, believed him, and his curiosity wanted to find out exactly what that pill could do.
After Martin remained silent, Chris said, “Tell me what you want to do. You can’t leave without an answer, though. You can tell me no, and walk out that door and never see me again. You’ll finish the rest of your life wondering what happened to your beautiful little girl. The unknowing will drive you mentally insane in your later years. I don’t want to give away the spoiler, but it doesn’t end well for you.”
Chris strolled around the counter until he stood three feet in front of Martin, still frozen.
“Or.” He paused a brief moment. “You can take a look and try to get the closure your soul desperately needs.”
Martin felt a sense of control start to return, his nerves settling. “If you know everything, why don’t you just tell me?” he demanded.
“I do know everything. I can see everything from the past, present, and future. Knowing things and doing things are different, though. I can easily go back to the time of the Holocaust, but to do something to prevent it – that’s out of my realm. I’m the keeper of time, not the changer of history. I study time and study people, but I’m not here to ruin or fix lives. History follows its course and I’m simply along for the ride. Think of it like the cameraman filming the lion hunting zebras in the jungle. He’s observing, not getting involved. It’s important to know your role and stay in your lane.”
Chris stood close enough where Martin could smell the stale odor radiating from the old man’s mouth.
“What’s your angle? Even if all of this were true, why would you do this? You don’t even know me.”
“I like helping people.”
“If this is all true, then why didn’t you go back in time and stop your parents’ death?”
Chris grinned like a politician expecting a tough question.
“You have to understand that there are rules
when going back. It’s not a free-for-all. I did go back to my parents’ accident. Multiple times, in fact. What they say is true: things happen for a reason.”
Martin stayed quiet, processing everything Chris had said.
“Well?” Chris persisted.
“What are these rules?” Martin asked.
“We can go over the rules if you decide to go back to 1996. For now, I just want you to see for yourself. There’s not much you can damage in two hours, just make sure you don’t get spotted by your past self. That can throw your life into limbo.”
Martin took a final look for the door, and it still wasn’t there. He realized he’d been trapped, perhaps intimidated, into taking this pill. Agreeing to these shenanigans seemed to be the only way out now.
What if it’s just a sleeping pill and he tries to kill me or kidnap me? What if he has another secret room where he keeps his prisoners?
Chris studied him with a grin as wide as the Cheshire cat’s.
“What if I say no?”
The grin melted into a frown. “Well, you can say no and leave this room and store and return to your life. But just know, the curiosity and regret will drive you into a frenzy. It can take quite a while until you can forget about this discussion.”
Martin still hadn’t moved despite having the feeling return to his legs. Your life has already turned to shit. Say he does kill you in your sleep, then you get what you really want deep down: an end to it all. But say he’s not lying, and this somehow works. Then you’ll have the answer to a question you’ve been asking for two decades. I’d call it a low risk, high reward decision.
Martin stared at Chris like a poker player, trying to see if he was bluffing or not. The old man smirked, as if he could hear Martin’s thoughts out loud.
“Okay,” Martin said confidently. “I’ll try it.”
The smirk widened again, reminding Martin of the villainous Joker from the Batman comics. “Fantastic!”
Chris hurried behind the counter and rummaged through his drawer until his fingers settled on a white pill. “This is the one! Follow me.”
He dashed across the floor like a dancer and returned to his desk. He pulled out the squeaky chair and hung an arm out for Martin to take a seat.
“I don’t have a bed in here or else I’d have you lay down. The chair will do just fine, though,” Chris explained.
Martin stepped cautiously to the chair before sitting down, causing protesting creaks from the old wood. He plopped both arms on the armrests and watched Chris across the desk.
“Like I said, the rules are simple, at least for this quick journey: do not encounter your past self. Stay out of his sight, but feel free to hang around and observe.”
“When will I wake up?” Martin asked.
“I’m going to give you two pills. One will take you back in time, and the other will bring you back here. Keep the return pill in your pocket. Anything on your body will go with you when you go back in time. When you’re ready to come back, just take the pill. Regardless of how long you stay in the past, only ten minutes will have passed here in the current world. Just make sure you come back before 7 P.M.”
Martin nodded, still wanting to talk himself out of such nonsense, but it was too late. Chris placed the white pill on the desk. “This is to return. Put that in your pocket.” Martin did as he was told. “And this is the one that will take you back to 4 P.M. Remember when you ‘wake up’ in the past, you’ll be where your body currently occupies space, so you’ll be in this room. I’ll make sure the door’s open.”
Chris winked as he placed the new pill on the desk.
“You’ll obviously see me when you go back. I’ll know it’s you. But as far as anyone else you interact with, they’re going to assume you exist in the present time with them. Any questions?”
“Nope. Let’s see what this is all about.” Martin exuded a confident tone, but his heart pounded in anticipation to the point he could feel his fingertips throbbing against the wooden chair.
“Excellent. Feel free to roam around. You’ll have two hours before your past self arrives to the store. Just stay out of your own way.”
Martin picked up the pill and examined it under the hanging light. It was white and round, and felt no different than any other pill he’d ever taken. From his pinched fingers, he placed the pill in his mouth, letting it fill with saliva before swallowing. His heart pounded in his ears like distant drums.
Here goes nothing.
He closed his eyes and leaned his head back as he waited for what would come next.
6
Chapter 5
It only took a couple minutes for Martin to fall into a deep sleep. Blackness filled his mind temporarily while his body felt elevated by an invisible hand. His conscience remained alert as he waited anxiously in some sort of purgatory.
When the floating sensation stopped, his body jolted awake like it would after a nightmare. He sat in the same chair in the same dark room, only now the door he had longed for appeared, ajar with a stream of glowing light filling the darkness.
His body appeared intact as he studied his limbs and fingers. He stepped cautiously toward the door before pulling it all the way open. The bright lights from the store stung momentarily as his eyes adjusted. Once focused, he saw Chris sitting at the counter, reading his raggedy book. His frosty hair swirled in different directions as he kept his nose in the book, paying no attention to Martin.
“How do you feel?” Chris asked in an uninterested voice, startling Martin.
The old man didn’t look up.
“Uh, fine, I guess. I don’t feel any different. Should I?”
“Of course not. Nothing changes for you as long as you keep in mind the golden rule.”
Chris flipped a page and continued his semi-ignoring of Martin. Martin looked around the store and saw the clock near the front entrance.
4:03. He could have just changed the clock. Doesn’t make this real.
“If you’re looking for proof,” Chris said. “Then wait around two more minutes. An older lady will walk in and ask if I have any antique bookshelves. I’ll point her in the right direction, she’ll browse the two that I have, then she’ll leave with a quick wave.”
Martin didn’t respond and walked around the store. He’d plan to see the old lady, but it still wouldn’t prove anything. He could easily have paid some poor soul to come in and do exactly as asked.
Martin walked toward the entrance and looked outside where a car pulled in to the parking lot. The sun shone as bright as it did when Martin left the post office every day. That’s a nice touch, I wonder how the old man pulled off that illusion. The sun will be setting any minute now.
The shiny sedan parked in the handicap parking space and a woman with a gray perm rose from the driver’s seat and climbed the stairs, clinging to the handrail for support. She wore a large purse over her shoulder and moved with the fragility of someone with bad knees and hips.
She pulled open the store door and Martin froze where he stood, watching the woman with intense curiosity. She gave him a soft smile and walked past him to the counter where Chris had finally put his book down.
“Hello, ma’am, how can I help you today?” Chris said, sounding a bit scripted in Martin’s opinion.
“Yes, I’m looking for an antique bookshelf. Do you happen to have any?” the old lady asked in a soft voice.
“I sure do. Have a couple right over there.” Chris pointed in the direction, opposite Martin, and the woman wasted no time examining the bookshelves. Chris leaned over his counter and winked at Martin.
Okay, can still be a set up. This doesn’t prove anything.
He struggled with his inner conscience, insisting this was all a well-planned sham, but believing deep down he would watch himself walk into the store in two hours. The thought made him nauseous.
Martin browsed a table of old, fine jewelry, but kept his eye on the woman. He could see her running fingers over the ancient wood, taking a mental
picture of the shelves to imagine how they might look in her home. After a minute, she stepped away and headed for the exit. When she passed the counter she grinned and waved at Chris, who returned a grin.
“Thank you for stopping in,” he said.
The bell chimed as the woman exited, and Chris gazed to Martin with a devilish smirk.
“I’m gonna go wander around outside. You said I can take your car?” Martin asked, not wanting to give Chris the satisfaction of acknowledging the events that just occurred.
“Yes, be my guest. Keys are in the glove box. It’s the only car behind the store.”
The smirk remained and Martin left the store with a newly found urgency. Surely it should have started cooling off by now, assuming it was still after seven, but the day remained hot.
You know this is really happening, he told himself. Stop trying to resist. Go find whatever confirmation you need.
He walked around the building and found a lone car parked, waiting for him. It was an old, blue Buick, much of the paint chipped away and giving way to brown rust.
“This guy sure lives a humble life for sitting on millions,” Martin remarked before opening the driver’s door. Despite its junky appearance, the interior was well kept, even smelling clean. He expected trash all over the floor, but there wasn’t a single item in the car. He pulled open the glove box and found the key by itself.
The engine roared to life, stronger and in better shape then what Martin expected. The digital clock on the dashboard read 4:18. “You pulled out all the stops. Great attention to detail.”
Martin said these things to assure himself he wasn’t going crazy, but the longer the sun didn’t set, the more his doubt grew like a slowly inflating balloon. He drove out of the lot and left the Wealth of Time behind.
He drove in the direction of his apartment building, his mind racing out of control. The sun blinded him and he squinted as he weaved in and out of traffic.
What happens if I see myself? That would confirm this is either all real, or my friend at the store has been concocting some very powerful drugs.
Wealth of Time Series Boxset Page 3
