The green mass that was the school’s lawn grew bigger with each house passing in a blur. When Martin reached the school’s block, he turned left and drove toward the main entrance, again feeling pulled to it, as if he were watching himself drive the car in an out-of-body experience. As he turned into the school’s parking lot he saw Izzy standing at the school’s main entrance, only the school wasn’t Larkwood Middle School.
It was Columbine High School.
Martin parked and jumped out of the car in a swift motion, sprinting for his daughter. She stood still, facing his direction, with her head down. Izzy wore pajamas, a matching set with Ariel and Flounder from Little Mermaid spotted all around.
“Hi, Daddy,” she said, looking up. “It’s okay, Daddy. I’m okay.”
Tears rolled down her soft face as Martin embraced her. She remained stiff in his grip. Martin squeezed, but felt no life in the girl. She had no scent, no warmth, but it was her; there was no denying her green eyes or her sweet voice.
“Daddy, go home. You can’t save me. Even if you did, they will still take me. Here.” She looked back to Columbine.
Martin took a step back. Was Izzy implying that if she lived she would’ve been killed in the Columbine attacks? How would Izzy have gone to Columbine? They were nowhere near the level of income to even consider moving to Littleton. A lot could change in a three-year span, and maybe the Briar family continued in an alternate universe where Izzy never went missing and they moved across town to where she would meet her eventual doom at her new school. But Martin thought it to be a long shot.
“Izzy,” he said through a swollen throat. “What happened?”
“It was an accident, Daddy.”
“What accident?” Martin squatted to meet Izzy’s eyes.
Izzy sobbed, yet remained motionless as she stood in her pajamas.
“It was an accident. Please don’t be mad, Daddy. I love you.”
Izzy turned and started to walk toward the school.
“Izzy!” Martin shouted, his legs frozen. “IZZY!”
When she reached the entrance, she turned and looked over her shoulder, locking eyes with Martin. “I love you, Daddy.” She pulled the door open and stepped into the school, letting the door glide shut behind her.
The force that kept Martin’s feet stuck in the ground like concrete had lifted, and he tumbled forward, lunging for the door handles and clawing at them like a rabid cat.
“Izzy, come back!” he screamed, his face moist with sweat and tears. He pulled on the door handles, but none of them budged. Through the window was darkness. No hallways, no office, just a pit of blackness. He knew the doors wouldn’t open, but kept yanking at them to the point he thought his shoulder might pop out of its socket.
“Izzy, please!”
* * *
Martin sprung awake, crying, sweating, and panting. He was in his bedroom, Sonya by his side, stirring from his jerky motions. The sheets were soaked with sweat and clung to his lower back like leeches.
“It’s just a dream,” he whispered. “Just a bad dream. It doesn’t mean anything.”
Like hell it doesn’t mean anything. Why do you keep lying to yourself? You haven’t once had a dream about Izzy since she went missing, and now this happens on the eve of your supposed rescuing her?
Martin brushed his thoughts aside. Dreams are nothing but a collection of subconscious thoughts. He knew this, as his mother was big into analyzing dreams, but she always reminded him of this simple fact.
There was no Izzy, no Larkwood Middle School posing as Columbine High School, no locked doors that led into darkness. Izzy was always on his mind, and being so close to the actual events that followed her disappearance, the details came back vividly from wherever they had lain dormant after all these years.
“Just a dream.”
He looked over and was relieved to see he hadn’t woken Sonya as she continued her light snoring. Today would be the longest day of her life and she needed to be as rested as a cat on a Sunday afternoon.
Was it a sign? he wondered. What if Chris put that dream in my head? Considering everything that had happened so far, it wouldn’t be a stretch of the imagination for the old man to do such a thing. But why would he have given Martin this opportunity to come back in time only to be told to go back home when the time came? Just a dream.
Martin lay back down, the damp sheets now cold on his flesh as he stared into the darkness of the bedroom. Today is the day your life changed forever. It’s not the anniversary of the day where you drink a little more to bury the pain. It’s the actual day and you’re living in it. Save her life, save your life, and go back home.
Martin would toss and turn for another two hours before falling into a light sleep. Shortly after, the sun rose from the eastern plains, cracking dawn on the morning of September 9th, 1996.
47
Chapter 46
Martin woke several hours later to find it was almost noon, sleeping while Sonya would have dressed and gotten ready for her final day at school. He panicked at first, worried that he had slept through something important, but relaxed once he remembered that he had nothing to do until that night.
One last day of waiting around.
He expected the suspense to kill him. What could he possibly do to make the day pass, knowing what awaited when the sun went down? The game plan was set: Sonya would follow Izzy home one final time to make sure she didn’t venture off, come straight home to meet Martin for a dinner that would surely go untouched, then return to watch the Briar house until the sun went down and Martin would show up in his all-black camouflage for a front row seat to the big show.
Martin warned Sonya of a boring stakeout. Every report Lela had filed in those following days mentioned that Izzy had to have gone out in the middle of the night—she had kissed her goodnight just after nine before turning in for bed herself. All he could rely on now was Lela’s word from 22 years earlier.
The one good thing about suffering such a tragedy was the ability to remember every single detail. He could practically recite Lela’s police statements after all of these years and hundreds of bottles of whiskey.
When he finally got out of bed, a lump filled his body from his intestines up to his throat, and would stay there all day, thanks to the nerves that refused to settle down. This caused a lost appetite and a constant urge to sit on the toilet and pray for it all to end.
He didn’t bother with breakfast or lunch, instead stepping outside with hopes of passing the time and taking his mind off the night ahead. Some flowers in Sonya’s garden needed final tending before they would close up shop for the upcoming winter, so he poked around with some lilies to find that a whole twenty minutes had passed.
Is there anything left that I need to get done? Martin ran through a mental checklist of things he needed to have done before returning to 2018, and for the first time he welcomed the thought of returning home, not knowing if he could bear the stress of another day in the past.
Everything was in order. He had invested money to cover his life in 2018, and had his return pill ready in his pocket, buried deep in the bottom where it had no chance of wiggling out. He had decided it would be best to keep the pill on his body rather than leaving it at the house. There was a chance he would need to make a quick decision and take the pill, having no time to return home, but the original plan was to convene at home after saving Izzy and decide when they would want to make the trip into the future.
Martin returned inside to find his body randomly trembling and his teeth chattering. He couldn’t recall ever being so nervous. He shuffled into the living room and threw himself on the couch.
Relax. This is what you came here for. Did you think the day wouldn’t actually come?
The way his life was going before he had swallowed that pill, he thought he’d have a few weeks to live before dying from alcohol poisoning or a self-inflicted gunshot. He never expected the past to provide a cure for his escalating alcoholism.
What if I relapse in 2018?
He had considered this possibility before, but didn’t know how much stock to put into it. Did the past really cure him? Or did he take advantage of a fresh start in a familiar era? He believed the latter. Besides, whatever happened tonight would change the course of his life in 2018. He could wake up and no longer have to go to the post office. Maybe he really did catch a break and would live in Littleton if his daughter had never disappeared. His own life could look unrecognizable, and the thought didn’t help settle his nerves.
If everything went smoothly and he saved Izzy, returned to 2018 with Sonya, and no longer had an itch to drink every bottle of booze in sight, there was still Chris. What exactly did he mean by taking away Martin’s ability to feel emotions?
If someone tells a joke, will I no longer laugh? If someone dies, will I no longer cry? What precisely does it mean and how severe will it be?
He feared becoming a zombie, a shell of his current self, for Sonya. He had an obligation to keep her happy and safe in 2018, and anything less than that would result in a lifetime of regret for her.
I’m gonna marry that woman when we get to 2018. And we’ll have the most luxurious honeymoon.
While wedding bells would have to wait, Martin at least had something positive to look forward to, should everything go horribly wrong tonight. He still couldn’t rid his mind of Izzy telling him to go home, and deep down felt it was a sign that he’d be right back at square one after tonight: clueless as to what had happened and left with another two decades of heartache that would tear apart his soul like a vulture on a dead animal’s carcass.
Snap out of it. You’ll only fail tonight if you keep having these negative thoughts. Get your shit together and be confident.
“Easier said than done.” He never had soaring confidence, even before his life had taken a turn for the worst. His only confidence in 2018 came in knowing that a hangover awaited him in the morning if he dared drink another bottle of whiskey.
The thought of pouring what remained in Sonya’s alcohol stash had crossed his mind—the nerves had taken full control, after all—but he couldn’t push himself to put his entire mission at risk. What if he passed out on the couch while Sonya went on her stakeout, and he missed the whole thing?
Go one more night without it, and you can drink all you want tomorrow. A new life begins soon. One with money, and no job to go to. Just a full bank account and a woman who loves you, and hopefully, a daughter who thinks the world of you.
Martin pushed the negativity aside and tried to imagine a universe where he, Sonya, and Izzy all lived in 2018. A world where they could laugh over dinner for having pulled off the impossible and reflect back to this specific day as the moment that shaped all of their good fortune.
These thoughts settled his nerves a bit, although not completely. He had passed a good amount of time and didn’t realize the clock on the wall read 2:45. Sonya would be off work within the next hour to follow Izzy home for the final time.
The time was finally here, and he just needed to hang on to his last shred of sanity for a few more hours.
48
Chapter 47
Sonya wished her students a great rest of their evenings. The 3:15 bell had struck within the last minute, and Ms. Griffiths had her class ready to head out immediately.
“Bye, kids,” she said while they herded out of the room and into the traffic jam in the hallway. She loved her eighth graders and felt a pull in her chest at the thought of never seeing them again with their big glasses, pimply faces, and squeaky voices.
Time for vacation? she thought. While the workday certainly had that final-day-before-vacation feel, she had to fight off the thought of what was actually happening within the next handful of hours. At home, Martin was probably a nervous wreck. She’d noticed how much more distant he seemed as this day had grown closer, and she was partially glad to be at work instead of home with him all day.
If he’s this nervous, is it really best to be going with him?
Her mind had refused to fully accept that she was leaving her life in 1996 behind to run off with a man she had recently met, but wasn’t taking a chance sometimes all you could do? She didn’t have any serious intent on staying behind, but the thought wouldn’t quite leave her alone.
She glanced at the clock with studious eyes. 3:20. It’s time.
Her classroom had actually emptied in five minutes, a new record. Normally a couple students would hang back to ask for help, or maybe a parent or two would drop in for a quick word. But today was her lucky day, despite a longing for something to stall her from leaving and officially starting the next chapter of life.
She had parked on the rear side of the school this morning so she could easily slip out of her classroom’s back door and remain uninterrupted en route to her car. She grabbed her purse and paused, looking over her classroom that she had called home for the last twelve years. The vacant desks looked back at her sadly, begging her not to leave. The chalkboard had been freshly cleaned by her students and showed her the blank canvass that awaited on the other side of the door. Her students’ artwork hung on the walls, giving the room a homey feel.
In two short weeks she had already formed a bond with her students that only a teacher would understand. Her students loved her, and she loved them.
Please don’t be hurt when I’m gone.
Martin hadn’t given her a clear answer on what would happen after she arrived in 2018. The thought of her students showing up tomorrow morning to an empty classroom with no word from their teacher tugged on every moral string in her body. Martin had promised she could get a teaching job in the future, but how similar would it be? Schools had already changed drastically since the time she was a student, and now with all the technology on the rise, would her job mainly consist of how to use computers?
She realized that she was getting ahead of herself, and blew a kiss to her abandoned classroom. “I promise it’ll be okay,” she said to the desks, and turned out the back door.
Some students ran around like uncaged animals on the open grass field between the school and the parking lot and she maneuvered her way through them like a native New Yorker pushing their way through Times Square.
She pulled her car around the building and found Izzy approaching the schoolyard’s outer gate like clockwork. Izzy had apparently been a child of strict routine, going through the same exact motions every day in the way she packed her backpack and re-tied her shoes for her walk home.
Sonya crept down the road at a snail’s pace as she waited for Izzy to cross the street. Keep a safe distance.
Martin had assured her that she had a much longer leash than he. Sonya actually existed in Izzy’s current life, so if she accidentally drew attention to herself it wouldn’t have a negative effect like it would if Izzy saw her father from the future.
Sonya kept close to the sidewalk and watched Izzy finally cross the street in her familiar pose with her hands crossed over her books and, this time, two pigtails bouncing behind her head with every step.
Sonya had gone through this same routine for the past week, but felt an extra flood of adrenaline today. What if something did happen right now? What if a creep in a van pulled in front of her and followed Izzy all the way home? It was only a two-block route and it would be impossible for an innocent child to be aware of a stalker. Sonya had done it every day, after all, with not so much as a glance over the shoulder from Izzy.
What exactly would you do if someone else got involved at this point?
Sonya had played out the scenario in her mind, and vowed to intervene should danger present itself. She kept a crow bar in her trunk and wouldn’t hesitate to use it. Part of her hoped this would happen. If she could save Izzy before Martin had to get involved, they could return to a hopefully normal evening while they figured out their next steps.
Sonya turned onto Cherry Street and kept a distance of five car lengths behind Izzy as she trudged down the sidewalk. Her eyes bounce
d from the rear view to the left and right sides of the road in search of anything out of the ordinary. There was nothing but cars parked on the street and lawns covered with the first layer of browning leaves.
Izzy strolled along at the same pace as any other day, minding her business, oblivious to the teacher trailing behind. Sonya had never actually spoken to Izzy, but had seen her around the hallways in between classes. She kept to herself for the most part, occasionally giggling with two other girls during lunch and recess. Sonya had considered asking Izzy’s teacher, Mrs. Weller, her opinion on Izzy, but decided it best to keep quiet should anything go awry.
By the time Izzy arrived home, Sonya’s mind had drifted so far that she had to speed up to see the young girl step inside her house. She drove two houses down and waited for five minutes to see if anything would happen.
Sonya’s heart raced at the thought that she might have just been the last person to see Izzy (aside from Martin’s ex-wife) before she went missing. “Well, I guess that’s that,” she said into her empty car. So far, the day had gone according to plan. Izzy was home safe, undisturbed, and likely diving into her piles of homework. Sonya drove to the end of the block and took the long route home where she and Martin would sit down for a brief dinner before she’d return to watch the Briar house until nightfall.
Martin had insisted that she leave once he arrived—he’d be walking over—but she was starting to think she might want to stick around and see what happened. Besides, it would be beneficial for Martin to have a car handy in case he needed to chase someone down in another vehicle, or possibly flee the scene. This was one thing he had refused, claiming he would stop anything from even reaching that point. But she liked to prepare for any situation that might arise. If they didn’t need the car, then no harm done. But if Martin found himself in a bind in the middle of the night while someone drove away with his daughter, what would he do? Chase them on foot?
Wealth of Time Series Boxset Page 26
