Wealth of Time Series Boxset

by Andre Gonzalez

  “I’m still here. You can ask me anything.”

  “I’d rather read the history books when I get to the future, and then I’ll ask questions. The only thing I want to know is if we see a woman president by 2018.”

  Martin smirked. “Almost. Clinton’s wife – Hilary – she loses in the 2016 election.”

  “Really?” Sonya’s eyes bulged. “Lost to who?”

  “That’s a long story. Probably better for another day.”

  “So there is some hope for the future.”

  “Things aren’t as bad as they might sound. Sure there’s more violence in the future, but I’ve never felt in danger. I honestly think the violence is mostly the same, there’s just more coverage of it with the internet and social media.”

  Sonya nodded silently, and Martin figured she had no idea what social media even meant.

  “How will we know if what we’re doing tomorrow will have worked?” she asked.

  Martin took a sip and flipped the steaks, their sizzle slowly quieting as they came closer to completion.

  “Well, we won’t be here to find out for ourselves. We’ll have to look it up when we get back to 2018. We can do a quick search on Columbine High School and see what shows up.”

  “It’s that simple, huh?”

  “It really is. You can find out literally anything you want to know. Not all the answers may be real, but you’ll eventual learn how sort out what’s fake or not.”

  “That needs to be the first thing we look up when he get back. Is the library close to your house?”

  “We don’t need to go to the library. Remember, it’s all on my phone.”

  “Duh, right! How could I forget your portable encyclopedia? My apologies.”

  She grinned as she locked eyes with Martin, and he felt something he hadn’t in the last two weeks: lust.

  They hadn’t lost their connection, but he was unable to perform physically grueling tasks. Now, he felt a familiar tingle in his crotch and an urge to kiss every inch of her body. If dinner went well, maybe he’d see what she thought about dessert in the bedroom.

  40

  Chapter 39

  Monday morning, just before the sun poked above the horizon, Martin’s nightmare of Eric and Dylan had recurred. Only this time there was no conversation, just the two boys laughing like rabid hyenas as they both lined up their firearms and shot Martin square in the chest. It was a quick dream, the kind you think back and realize had lasted only five seconds, but had felt like an eternity. The layers of evil that waited beneath their howling laughter sent chills down his spine both in dreamland and in his 1996 bed.

  Sonya tossed and turned all night, likely facing demons of her own. He knew she had finally recognized that she had gone in too deep with this commitment, but would never admit it.

  She had rolled out of bed shortly after 5 A.M., and Martin heard her rummaging around the kitchen, debated if he should join her, then rolled back to his side to try and steal another hour of sleep.

  Their plan was to leave the house at eight, meaning they would hit the rush hour traffic toward downtown by 8:15 to have a slow trek the rest of the way to Littleton. There was a brief disagreement about the strategy to catch the rush hour. Sonya believed that more cars on the road increased the likelihood of something going wrong, while Martin argued something would go wrong regardless, so it would be best to drive as slow as possible. I-25 in the morning, between eight and nine was typically stop-and-go all the way to downtown. If something were to go wrong on the highway, they’d have plenty of time to react.

  Martin ended up fidgeting for the next hour in bed, hearing the clatter of pots and pans from the kitchen, and the sizzle of what was either bacon or sausage cooking. Apparently Sonya was ready to get the day started.

  The boys’ laughter kept ringing out in his mind much like how the piercing blare of a fire alarm might echo even after it turned off. He forced the thoughts of the future day where all those innocent students were flashed across the screen to celebrate their lives that had ended too soon. He remembered all of the tears that were shed at the graduation ceremony a few weeks later, an event broadcasted by the local news stations.

  Doing this replenished Martin’s sense of purpose, and he finally jumped out of bed at six, ready to tackle the unknown challenges that lied ahead.

  He dragged himself to the kitchen where Sonya stood over the stove, eggs cooking in a skillet, bacon and sausage in another, and the sweet smell of fresh bread oozing from the oven.

  “Good morning, Chef Sonya,” he said with as much comedic tone he could muster so early in the morning.

  She jumped, startled, and turned to Martin with a nervous grin. “I couldn’t really sleep, so figured we’d have a feast before setting out for the day.”

  Martin admired the gluttonous spread of food. “I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not. This looks fantastic.”

  “Thank you,” Sonya said quietly, her innocent smirk returning. “How did you sleep?”

  “Not much better. Was hard to fall into a good, deep sleep.”

  He refused to tell her about the dream; she didn’t need anything else to worry about.

  “I know what you mean. When this is all done, I just wanna come back here and take a long nap.”

  “That sounds perfect,” he said, hoping deep down that they would, in fact, make it back home. He still had a hunch that things would play out differently by having Sonya do the dirty work, but he couldn’t gamble his caution away, either.

  “Breakfast is ready,” Sonya said, turning the dials off on the stove. “Would you like some vodka in your orange juice this morning?”

  “More than you know.”

  Martin helped her set the table and serve the food. They sat down and enjoyed the meal with minimal conversation, the weight of their mission hanging heavily above their heads.

  * * *

  When they finished eating, they sat at the table staring at each other. Neither of them wanted to make the move to stand up because that would mean it was time to get the day officially started. If Sonya asked to stay home and watch movies all day, forget the simple task of delivering a letter to a high school almost an hour away, Martin would happily agree.

  His entire body tensed up and his teeth chattered from time to time throughout breakfast.

  This has got to be the most nervous I’ve ever been, he thought, unable to think of another time where he had felt more sick with anticipation. The thought of death kept jumping into his mind, hard to shake. No one’s dying today, stop worrying.

  The words sounded fake within his own head, and he stood up from the table, anxious to get the trip over with. “Let’s head out,” he said, mustering a confident voice. “Traffic will be starting to back up soon and we want to make sure we catch it.”

  Sonya nodded, and stood slowly, keeping her head down to her empty plate. Martin could only assume she felt the same way he did. He debated a final attempt of trying to talk her out of it, but knew she would never give in so late in the game.

  “Let’s go then,” she said softly, passing the dishes to the sink and walking to the front door. “I’m driving, you’re keeping watch. That hasn’t changed.”

  They had known that was the plan, but it sounded to Martin that she spoke those words for her own comfort, needing to feel in control of something.

  “Let’s get this done. Then we can go have a big lunch later to celebrate.” He offered a smile, but she didn’t return it, grabbing her keys off the rack on the wall, and swinging the front door open.

  Martin followed her outside to a perfect morning. Golden rays splashed across the front lawn, while dew from the prior night glistened in its glory. Birds chirped from the trees while Martin took a deep inhale of the pure, fresh morning air. His senses had seemed to strengthen since the coma, but it wasn’t all the time. At times he could hear the slightest whisper, or smell a neighbor’s cooking from down the block, while at other times food tasted bland, no matter how much seaso
ning he dumped on it. Today was a perfect day, and he wanted to enjoy every passing second of it.

  Sonya was already in the car and had turned on the engine, giving it a minute to warm up. Martin broke out of his trance and joined her. At what point does the past realize we’re trying to change it?

  He had expected some sort of resistance to start the day, but was pleased to find nothing had happened yet.

  “Are we ready?” Sonya asked, putting a shaky hand on the gear.

  Martin noticed and grabbed it, squeezing it. “If you need a minute, just say so.”

  Sonya exhaled heavily. “I think I’m okay. I don’t even know why I’m nervous. I think I just have your car accident in the back of my mind.”

  “That’s why we’re driving slow and being cautious. I wasn’t ready last time. I had absolutely no awareness of my surroundings. Stay alert and everything will be fine.”

  She nodded her head rapidly and pulled the car onto the street. “I trust you. Let’s go save some lives.”

  She drove quickly through the neighborhood, the freeway just minutes away.

  41

  Chapter 40

  Sonya’s knuckles turned white from her death-like grip on the steering wheel. Martin considered telling her to loosen up, but decided to let her cope with the stress as she saw fit. He had bigger issues to worry about, anyway.

  The tension heightened whenever a car passed them by on the freeway. They were still a few minutes from where the traffic would logjam, so other drivers zoomed by them at 70 miles per hour compared to their leisurely 50.

  Sonya drove in the far right lane and kept an eye glued on her driver’s side mirror when a new car approached. Martin leaned over the center console each time for a clear look into the mirror, and studied the car, tracking its trajectory to make sure it wasn’t headed for their back bumper.

  When the car passed, his focus would then shift to the car’s tires, watching them for any sudden movement that might cause the car to swerve into their lane.

  These fifteen minutes of action felt like two hours of constant paranoia, and when they reached the outskirts of downtown, they both felt at ease at the sight of a sea of red brake lights. Cars honked and music blared as they joined the gathering of drivers on their way to start the work week.

  Denver looked so young, Martin observed. There were less buildings than in 2018, less surroundings where the city would eventually grow, and Martin felt a tugging in his soul that he dismissed as nostalgia.

  I’m downtown right now, he thought, recalling that he would’ve already been at work. He had worked on the 16th Street Mall as an underground parking garage attendant, and he needed to be there at four in the morning to welcome the early starters.

  It’s funny how irrelevant a job seems when you look back to it after many years had passed. Martin remembered busting his ass to receive a measly 50 dollar bonus each month.

  Young and dumb, he thought. And here you are. Back in the same year doing a mission that will probably get you and your lady killed. Why couldn’t you have just gone to the beach with her like she wanted?

  He glanced over and saw Sonya’s grip hadn’t yet loosened on the steering wheel, but she otherwise appeared to have her emotions in check as she drove with a relaxed expression.

  “Here we are,” she said as the car came to a near stop to join the unofficial parade making its way through the city.

  “All right,” Martin said. “Let’s keep our eyes open and alert. There could still be something that happens out of the blue.”

  Sonya nodded and let the car inch forward every few seconds.

  Martin kept his stare out the windshield, observing every surrounding car and possible obstacle that could fall in their way. There was a pickup truck ten cars ahead with a refrigerator and various junk overflowing the cargo bed; he half expected something to spill out and block the road. To their left, a young mother in a rusty Chevy brushed makeup on her face in her rear-view mirror while a one-year-old baby screamed hysterically in the backseat.

  With his bearings and surroundings covered, Martin leaned back in his seat and kept his vision wide, waiting for what the world would throw their way.

  Five minutes passed with no activity, only moving one mile, and Martin wondered why it had moved slower than normal. He found his answer after another five minutes passed when they drove by the scene of a nasty accident.

  The front half of an SUV was smashed flat like a soda can. The vehicle was flipped onto its roof in the middle of a pool of shattered glass and freckles of blood splayed across the road. The accident appeared near the end of its clean up phase, as there wasn’t another car in sight. Police cars blocked off the shoulder and left lane, directing traffic into the right two lanes and creating a bottleneck of vehicles.

  “Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!” Sonya screamed and hyperventilated, squirming behind the wheel. “Martin, is this a sign?”

  “No, it’s not a sign. It’s just an accident,” he said, trying to lie to himself as well. No shit, it’s a sign. It’s either a sign of what will happen or a warning of what could happen. Martin didn’t care for the particulars of the matter and his heart rate spiked. “It’s okay. Just slow down a little, we’re still doing great on time.”

  Sonya fell silent and kept her eyes glued to the cars ahead of her. She wouldn’t break that stare if he told her Elvis Presley was in the back seat.

  “Just keep going steady, nothing to worry about here,” Martin said in his best soothing voice. The words must have bounced off her ears as she made no acknowledgement.

  They continued in silence, and on high alert, through downtown.

  * * *

  When they reached the end of the traffic jam, and the road opened up to higher driving speeds, they both let out a long exhale. The sight of the pulverized car had created a palpable tension that neither of them wanted to discuss.

  “We made it through that portion of the trip unscathed,” Martin said cheerily. He had expected something to happen during the traffic jam – they were sitting ducks, after all. But nothing happened, and that fact made Martin even more uneasy. The unpredictability of the past drove him near insanity.

  “What now?” Sonya asked.

  “Now, we’re only ten minutes away if we drive at full speed. I’ll let you decide how you’re feeling if you’d like to do that or not.”

  “I’ll go exactly the speed limit,” she said sternly, never breaking her concentration from the road. “Just tell me when to exit because I don’t remember. My brain can’t really focus right now on anything else besides driving this car.”

  “That’s fine, that’s all you need to worry about. We’re almost there.” Martin wanted to put a hand on her leg, but felt the radiating tension from her and decided to not distract her.

  She accelerated the car to a steady 55 miles per hour, and they headed toward the Littleton exit, eight miles away.

  * * *

  Littleton had much less traffic clogging its roads when they arrived. The town was primarily residential and still growing into the bustling suburb Martin knew it as in 2018. Sonya drove steadily through the city, never going above the speed limit, keeping a constant eye on the rear-view mirror.

  “I think we’re gonna make it without any issues,” Sonya said in a tone Martin couldn’t tell was scared or happy. “Does that seem right to you?”

  “It ain’t over ‘til it’s over,” Martin replied, using a quote his father had often told him, borrowed from some baseball player from his era.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Sonya questioned, focus unaffected.

  “It means to not get excited until we actually arrive. I’m glad we made it this far, but there’s still five more minutes to the school.”

  “Right,” she said.

  She continued to guide them through Littleton with Martin’s directions. When they finally turned onto the block where the school became visible, Martin noticed Sonya jolt in her seat.

  �
�There it is! There it is!” she cried, like a little kid driving by a favorite amusement park.

  Her sudden movement sent a wave of terror through Martin, and he giggled to release the tension.

  “Where do I go? Where should I park?” He could hear the anticipation in her voice.

  “Settle down, you need to stay focused. Go around the school and you’ll see the main entrance. It has a parking lot right next to it.”

  “Sorry, I’m just super nervous right now. I can’t even feel my legs. That feeling started in my stomach and spread.”

  “It’s okay to be nervous. Nerves keep you alert.”

  Martin found himself calmer than he expected as Sonya drove the car around the school’s massive campus, passing by the football, baseball, and soccer fields kept in pristine condition.

  “This school clearly has money to spend,” Sonya commented. “I wonder what the teachers get paid down here.”

  “Not enough to be killed,” Martin said flatly, wanting to bring her back to reality. Her daydreams would sometimes take her on a tangent, and right now was not the time for such small talk.

  Sonya pulled the car into its final destination where only two other cars filled the lot.

  Perfect, Martin thought. Less chance of someone remembering Sonya.

  Martin still felt a tingling doubt in his mind, dreading how this would all play out. Would the past make sure the letter got accidentally bumped into the trash can, hence explaining why they had encountered no resistance? Would the principal read the letter and dismiss it as a silly prank? This was, after all, in a time before school shootings were a part of everyday life. There wasn’t any stock in such a wild threat. Would the school take the threat seriously and notify the authorities? What would the authorities do with a threat still three years away?