Wealth of Time Series Boxset

by Andre Gonzalez

  “Why? We could go find a payphone real quick and call the police. She can go to jail tonight. Why give her the chance to walk free like this?”

  “Why wouldn’t I give her two decades to sulk in her guilt? I’m sure she even reached a point where she thought she actually got away with it, that she would make it to her grave without having to confront anyone about it. I’m fine letting her live the next 22 years with that hope. I’ll be there when it all comes crashing down, too. That’s what I really want to see.”

  Martin spoke like a man possessed, keeping all emotion out of his voice, and even showed a hint of lunacy in his planning. He knew exactly how he wanted it to all play out when he returned to 2018, and he’d waste no time. It would be the early morning still, and he’d call in to work, letting them know he’d never come back, and then off to Lela’s house where he would confront her and make her wish she had never tried to cover up her dirty actions.

  For now, Martin only wanted to cry. And that’s exactly what he did while Sonya begrudgingly turned the car around and drove back to her house. She didn’t speak to him, and he didn’t care why. He had an invisible dagger digging deep into his heart, twisting forcefully every time he closed his eyes and imagined Lela carrying their dead daughter through the house and dropping her in the trunk like groceries.

  “Don’t kill her, it’s not worth it.” Martin thought he had kept this in his mind, but had spoken it. Sonya looked at him, lips pursed while she drove.

  Martin slouched further down in his chair, wanting to melt into a puddle of depression, and thought over the last six months.

  I could’ve stopped this at any time. I could’ve picked her up after school today and told her I took the night off work to hang out with her. We could’ve gone to dinner and a movie, or fed the ducks at the park. I never imagined Lela doing this; she never acted guilty. Maybe all of the tears were the guilt. The guilt of knowing I would suffer forever because of what she did. The guilt of knowing I’d go my entire life without knowing the truth while she had to carry the burden.

  Sonya pulled into her driveway five minutes later. “So what now?” she asked.

  “Now we go to 2018.”

  52

  Chapter 51

  “I can’t believe this is what happened,” Martin said after they parked. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. Izzy should be alive right now, sitting in the backseat.”

  Sonya pushed open her door with her shoulder and jumped out of the car. “Let’s go,” she demanded. “I know this is hard, but you’re not done. I’m not letting you come all this way to stop here.”

  Martin watched her with puzzlement before following her into the house.

  “I know this is fucked up,” she continued, throwing her keys on the kitchen table and pacing around the living room. “I just watched it all happen, too. Let’s get back to your time and make this right. Your ex-wife deserves to be locked in prison for the rest of her life, and you deserve closure.”

  Her determination radiated, providing Martin a temporary boost in confidence. “Are you sure you want to come with me? There’s no ticket back.”

  “Martin Briar, for the hundredth time, I’ve made up my mind and I’m going. Please stop asking.”

  Martin nodded, and reached into his pockets to retrieve the small pill buried at the bottom. He held it an open palm like a wizard showing off an orb.

  “Ten minutes and we’ll go,” Martin said. “I want you to make sure you have everything you want to take.”

  “Martin, my bag has been ready for the past week,” she said, gesturing to the duffel bag that waited beside the living room couch. “I’m ready. Quit stalling and let’s go.”

  There was no hesitation in her voice, no doubts or reservations. Just the sound of a woman ready to take the next adventure in life.

  “Alright, let’s go lay down in bed. Bring your bag.” Martin found himself with an outbreak of nerves. He had his own reservations about going back to 2018. The world would be the same as he knew it, but how was he supposed to carry on after turning in Lela to the police. There would be news coverage of the cracked case after so many years. They would retrieve the body from the lake, and Martin would have to see the footage of it on a constant loop for weeks.

  Reporters would hound him and throw him into the spotlight as the ex-husband of a monster. Sonya would need to remain under the radar for the beginning of the media circus. She didn’t deserve such a chaotic welcoming to her new life.

  These uncertainties came and went like a brief rainstorm when Sonya called out for him. “Martin, I’m ready.” Her voice carried from the bedroom, and he realized he hadn’t moved one step since they entered the house.

  The pill rested in his sweaty palm, so Martin switched it to his other hand, worried it would disintegrate into its original powder form.

  He shuffled into the bedroom to find Sonya lying down, her hands crossed above her belly, and her bag strap wrapped around her arm while the bag rested on the floor below. She looked as beautiful as ever, even through all the drama of the past few hours.

  I wish we met when we were both younger, he thought. Our life together would have been so perfect.

  “Are you ready?” Martin asked.

  Sonya nodded, keeping her gaze to the ceiling fan that spun in silent rotations.

  He lay down next to her as he had every night for the past few months. He rolled to his side to face her and held her hands in his. “I love you,” he said. “Remember, we’re going to wake up in a dark room, but I’ll be there. Don’t be afraid.”

  A tear trickled down her cheek and Martin brushed it away with a quick swipe.

  He rolled to his back, keeping her hand in his, closed his eyes, and popped the pill into his mouth.

  As he fell into a daze, he imagined Izzy, beautiful and young, running through the park with the serene laughter only a little girl could make.

  It’ll all be okay.

  * * *

  The trip back to 2018 lacked the falling sensation, and even though he had Sonya’s hand squeezed in a death grip, it disappeared as soon at the darkness took over. He heard voices blurring by in a rush. Is this the next 22 years of my life being fast-forwarded back to present time? he wondered.

  Instead of waking up in a deserted lot, Martin jolted awake in a chair, eyes shooting open to the familiar sight of Chris’s back office. He panted for breath, a drizzle of sweat dripping down his back.

  Where’s Sonya?

  He peered around the room, heart thudding against his ribs as he jumped from the chair on to wobbly legs.

  “Sonya!” he shouted. “Sonya!”

  “Relax, old friend,” Chris said from the darkness before flicking on a light. “She’s here, just in a bit of a daze from the trip. Give her a minute to wake up.”

  Chris stood in the laboratory section of his office and smirked while he spoke, crossing the room to meet Martin.

  “How was your trip?” Chris asked how a casual friend might.

  “Where’s Sonya?” Martin demanded.

  “She’s asleep on the ground behind my lab. I took her over to make sure she was okay.”

  Martin thought he was dreaming. He could see Chris in front of him, grinning and talking, but had the hazy effect that often accompanied a deep sleep. He tried to move his legs forward but they remained frozen in place.

  “Easy, my friend,” Chris said. “I know you’re excited, but we have a debt to settle, remember?”

  “Bullshit!” Martin barked. “You set me up knowing what would happen. I never had a chance at saving Izzy.”

  “I never said you would,” Chris said, getting right in front of Martin’s face.

  Martin observed the evil lurking behind the old man’s eyes, and desired nothing more than to leave. “All I ever offered was the opportunity to go back in time. You picked the time and location. I made it happen. We had an agreement.”

  “You played me,” Martin said, shaking his head as he sat back down. He ha
d caught a glimpse of Sonya’s legs splayed out on the ground behind the laboratory counter and had no choice but to accept that as satisfactory.

  Chris cracked an evil smile and put an open hand to his chest. “I would never.”

  “So what now?” Martin asked. “You suck the soul out of me and I go around the rest of my life unable to feel anything?”

  “That’s an option yes. But I always like to make a counteroffer.”

  Chris sat down in the chair across the table, his joints cracking in symphony.

  “The reason I tell you the parameters of our arrangement is because that is the minimum I will take in exchange for your trip through time. You see, I’m not quite human, as you’ve probably figured out.”

  “What are you?” Martin demanded.

  Chris raised his finger. “Don’t interrupt me. I ask the questions around here. What I am is irrelevant. What feeds me—what feeds my soul, rather—are human souls. Sometimes all of the soul, sometimes just a small piece. I’m no glutton.”

  “So taking emotions is some sick way you feed off people?”

  “Perhaps feed was the wrong word. It’s more like fuel.”

  Martin shook his head in disgust. Same difference, asshole.

  “That’s not very nice, Marty, and I’m not an asshole. You see, I help people. I send people to times they never thought possible. I’ve sent people to the future and the past, all of them with good intent. All of them with plans on making their lives better. You met Calvin, right?”

  Martin nodded slowly, remembering his tortured friend from the liquor store.

  “I don’t know how much he told you, but he was in 1996 from the future. He was researching how an impeachment process was carried out. Because where he’s from, the history books have been erased and the good old United States is on the verge of a collapse from an authoritarian leader. Calvin worked for this future president undercover, and had high hopes in bringing him down.”

  “What happened to his body when he died? The one that was in his present time?”

  “He died. What happened is what always happens when you die. You stop existing. I’m sure you’ve heard of people who go randomly missing. This is what happens.”

  “What does this have to do with fueling you?”

  “It doesn’t. You call me an asshole. I just want you to know whose side I’m on, and also understand that there’s a price to pay for the gift I offer. Are you done with your questions, or can I proceed?”

  Martin leaned back and crossed his arms, feeling more like himself, the jet-lagged sensation of traveling through two decades finally wearing off. “Go ahead,” he said.

  “You showed me something, Marty,” Chris said, the smirk falling from his face. “You stretched your limits to try and stop Columbine. You showed a tremendous amount of courage. I don’t know how you felt about it, but I believe there’s a lot you can get accomplished if you had the opportunity to go wherever you wanted as you pleased.”

  The hairs stood at attention on Martin’s arms.

  “I can offer you that chance,” Chris continued. “The chance to come and go as you please to different periods in time. You can use this for pleasure, research, or to make the world a better place. It doesn’t matter to me.”

  Chris paused and Martin remained with his arms crossed over his chest.

  “And what’s in it for you?” Martin asked, skepticism nearly through the roof.

  Chris smiled. “That, my friend, is the hard part for you. You’ll get to keep your emotions, but I’ll still need a payment in return, and it’ll be something that keeps you up at night, wondering if you made the right choice.”

  Chris paused again, and Martin didn’t sense that his old friend would elaborate.

  “What the hell does that mean exactly?”

  “I can’t tell you. Think of it as a mystery box, a surprise.”

  “This doesn’t sound like a fair trade.”

  “A fair trade? Marty, think of how long you can extend your life. You can go to any era in time and live there as long as you want, and it will still only be a whole ten minutes that passes here in your current life. You can virtually live forever.”

  Martin stared at the ground in deep thought.

  Live forever? Just last week—in 2018—he would have laughed at the thought of living another day. But now with a fresh perspective and renewed energy, it seemed more like a second chance at life. The last 22 years had been a wash and passed by in one long, drunken blur. He thought back to 1996, watching Lela carry their dead daughter out of the house, and felt no urge to go through a similar disappointment again.

  Martin shook his head, tears rolling down his face.

  “You set me up. You made this bullshit offer to use it as leverage for a worse offer?”

  “Not at all. Your original offer is still on the table. Why don’t you take the rest of the day to think it over and let me know? I know you want to get out there and confront your ex-wife. Maybe that will give you some clarity. You know where to find me.”

  Chris appeared calm as always, despite having a snarling Martin in his face, and stuck out a hand to shake.

  “Fuck you,” Martin said and turned for the back of the room where Sonya was finally stirring.

  “Make sure you come back tonight. You’d hate to see what happens if you ignore me. I’ll be here all night.”

  Martin looked over his shoulder as he walked away and caught the devilish wink Chris shot his way.

  “Sonya!” he shouted. “We need to go!” Martin knelt beside her and brushed a hand down her arm. She slow blinked as her eyes fought to stay closed, clearly enjoying the sleep.

  “What happened?” she murmured. “Are we here?”

  “Yes, we’re both here and we’re okay. But we need to go. I can explain.” Martin pulled her arms and propped her up from the ground. She looked around the dim room and studied the counter where piles of different colored powders formed small mounds.

  “What is this place?” she asked.

  “I’ll explain, but we need to go. We have a lot to get done.”

  He led her by the arm and toward the door that led out of the office and into the store where they found Chris sitting behind the checkout counter.

  “Sonya, meet Chris. I’m sure you’ll have a chance to catch up later.” Martin spoke as they sped by Chris, who kept his smirk focused on them.

  “Pleasure meeting you, Sonya,” he called out before they reached the exit.

  Martin expected the world to be completely different when they stepped outside the store, but felt an instant relief when he saw his car parked where he had left it.

  “So this is 2018?” Sonya asked. “It doesn’t look too different.”

  “You have no idea,” Martin said, desperate to get off the property. “Let me charge my phone and I’ll show you what the world is like. But first, I gotta pay a visit to Lela.”

  53

  Chapter 52

  Martin tried to organize his thoughts as he drove wildly through Larkwood, remaining silent as Sonya gawked out the window to the same city she had just left 22 years in the past.

  “We have so much to do,” Martin said, speaking more to himself. “I have so much to do. We have to go to Lela’s, pick up the money I invested, and get you settled.”

  Don’t forget your date with Chris so he can kill you from the inside.

  Martin decided to not tell Sonya about the ultimatum Chris had given him. She needed to settle in before having such a bomb dropped on her.

  What am I going to say to Lela? Do I just barge in and tell her I know she did it, and she better tell me everything? I could record our conversation if my phone’s battery will hold up, and take it to the police.

  He never thought he’d play a mental game of chess on how to get Lela to jail. They had remained cordial after the divorce. The divorce occurred more out of necessity than a desire. The pain cut too deep and neither of them had the energy to uplift each other, eventually fading
away by seeking comfort through other means: Martin with alcohol, and Lela with food.

  Their physical attraction had vanished. Martin supposed they both saw a piece of Izzy in each other, whether it was her eyes and smile from Lela, or her round nose and flat laugh from Martin. But now Martin knew the truth, maybe the attraction was gone because Lela had found it from someone else in his family.

  Fucking bitch, he thought, and decided to lead in with that topic.

  Martin turned on to Cherry Street and chills sprung up his back. He looked to Sonya who stiffened up once she realized where they were.

  “Lela never moved out of the house?” she asked.

  Martin shook his head.

  “That’s disgusting.”

  Martin snickered. “I never thought anything of it. But now, yes, it’s very disgusting.”

  He pulled into the driveway, parking where his kid brother had all those years ago when he came over for a night cap.

  “What do you want me to do? I’m not going in there with you,” Sonya said, fidgeting in her seat in clear discomfort.

  “Of course not. I want you to wait ten minutes and then call the cops. Tell them the address of this house, and that Lela Briar murdered Isabel Briar in 1996. Tell them to not cause a disturbance, that everything is under control inside the house. There’s no need to barge in, Lela will hand herself over.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “We were married for fifteen years; I know her.”

  Martin powered on his cell phone that had been plugged in to the center console. It had only reached a five percent charge, but would suffice for what he needed. He held it up for Sonya to see, and she studied it like a curious scientist.

  “All you do is swipe your thumb across the screen like this to unlock it,” he explained, brushing a quick stroke across the lock screen that showed a picture of a smiling Izzy. “Then just tap the green icon on the bottom left to open the dialer. The number is still 911—that much hasn’t changed. Don’t touch anything else for now. I’ll show you what these things can do once this is all done.”