Wealth of Time Series Boxset
Page 31
“Everything’s on sale today,” Chris said to Sonya. “Pick anything you like and I’ll give you a great deal.” He winked before disappearing into the office and closing the door behind them.
“That’s quite the lovely lady you have there, Marty,” Chris said as he worked his way around to his desk. “Have a seat.”
Martin sat down across from where he had just slept over an hour ago during his journey back in time.
“What’s the deal you want to offer me? I need details.” Martin sat back and crossed his arms, ready to enter negotiations, despite knowing Chris could get whatever he wanted at this point.
Chris leaned back in his creaky chair and propped his feet up on the desk. “Do you know what the strongest human emotion is, Marty?”
Martin shook his head quickly.
“It’s pain,” Chris said flatly. “Pain drives you humans. If you think about it, you carry out your life to avoid pain. Pain is scary and no one wants to confront it on any given day. When a human experiences pain, they release so much negative energy into world. So much that I can practically grab it with my hand like it was a floating piece of paper in the wind.”
“What are you getting at?” Martin asked, arms staying crossed to show he wasn’t interested in the sentimental speech.
“Relax, old friend. It’s all part of the offer. You see, my original offer is still on the table. You can agree to hand over your ability to feel emotion. It won’t affect you quite as badly as you think, but you can forget about things like joy, pleasure, and happiness. But at the same time, you’ll also never feel pain, sadness, or grief again. I think it’s a fair trade.”
Martin gestured at the old man to get on with it, growing impatient as the seconds passed.
Chris ignored Martin in a clear reminder of who was in charge.
“The alternative offer I want to make you has two main components. One being a Juice that you can take to travel through time as you wish. No questions asked. Think of it as a permanent round-trip ticket. In exchange, you will experience pain that I can feast on. Not a physical pain, but an emotional and mental pain, and it will come when you least expect it. I can’t tell you what the experience will be, as I don’t even know. It’s one of those matters I carry out when the time feels right. So, if you think you can handle it, if you can live through terrible pain once more, then you’ll be able to continue life with your emotions intact, and the ability to travel anywhere in time.”
Chris stopped and crossed his hands behind his head as he stared at Martin.
“So what’ll it be, my old friend?” he asked.
Martin uncrossed his arms and sat forward in his seat.
“I need you to answer my questions about time travel before I can consider this,” Martin said. “I want to know the rules. I want to know who the Road Runners are and what they’re trying to do. I want to know why you decide to randomly show up.”
For the first time Chris had no deceiving grin to offer, but rather a flat expression of thought.
“Well, Marty, there are hundreds of little rules that you will experience for yourself. I’m not going to cover those with you. I gave you the golden rule to live by, and perhaps I can share more if you accept. As far as the Road Runners, those are a group of people trying to take control of the world. They’re dangerous and shouldn’t be trusted.”
“Then how did they get access to travel through time?”
“They weren’t always bad, Martin. They received access just like you are now, and made decisions for the worst. This ability comes with great responsibility, and some people just can’t handle it. Perhaps it’s my own fault for bad judgement, but that’s what they say about hindsight, right?”
“What’s your angle with all of this?” Martin asked. “Why not hold on to this ability for yourself? Why do you share it, and what do you want out of it?”
Chris leaned forward in his chair, the smirk returning.
“I’ve told you already what I want out of it. I need to feed myself, and I feed off human emotions. I’ve always had this ability. I’ve been around throughout the existence of time, you see. It’s like I live in the same world as you all, but not really. I’ve lived in all of the worlds, and it gets lonely. That’s why I started to share this gift with others, so there could be other people in my world.”
Martin locked eyes with the old man and thought for a moment that he could see the thousands of years of history brimming behind those gentle, blue eyes. Maybe he was telling truth. He’d never know, but he was sold on the opportunity.
I’ve lived through time-travelling, and how sweet it was.
He thought of the bank account waiting for him, loaded with money from his investments made in the past, thought of meeting Sonya and having his life changed forever. A lot of good had come from time travel.
“If I agree to this, what happens next?” he asked, prompting a slow nod from Chris.
“It’s quite simple,” Chris said. “You go home today with your Juice, and continue living life. There’s really no strings attached aside from the pain I’ll bring to your soul.”
“What about Sonya? Can she have the Juice?”
“She can drink it but nothing will happen. It’s created specially for you. She can always travel with you the same way. So, tell me, Marty, do we have a deal?”
Martin sat in silence. How bad can the pain be? I’ve been to hell and back. Me and Sonya can see the world.
He wouldn’t have given two shits about having life experiences before his journey into the past, but now it felt as if a thousand doors of possibilities opened in unison.
“Deal,” Martin said, and stuck out his hand instinctively. Chris grabbed it quickly, and Martin felt the coldness of the old man’s flesh.
“I’m happy to hear that. Please, let me grab your Juice so you can get out of here. I’m sure you have lots planned with your beautiful lady.”
Chris skipped across the office and disappeared into the dark corner where his laboratory waited. The sounds of glass bottles clanging against each other echoed around the room before Chris let out a grunt followed by, “I found you!”
He appeared in front of Martin in chilling quickness with a glass canteen filled with purple liquid held out in front of him.
“Here you go, old friend. 128 ounces of the finest time-traveling Juice your soul can buy. All you need is a single drop on your tongue and it works the same way as the pills.”
“How do I choose where to go?” Martin asked as he grabbed the heavy bottle of purple liquid.
“Simply think about it. You’ll be transported to the same location of your current body, though. So if you want to visit, say, ancient Rome, you’ll need to first travel to Rome and then take the Juice. When you fall asleep and wake up, you’ll be rubbing elbows with Julius Caesar himself!”
Martin studied the bottle that felt no different than an over-size bottle of wine.
“So this is it? I’m free to go and wait for some tragic thing to happen to me?”
“Don’t bother waiting. It will happen when you least expect it.”
“Will I still see you around?” Martin asked, knowing he never planned to come back to this godawful store again.
“I’ll drop by from time to time. But don’t worry about me, get out of here. The world is yours!”
Martin nodded toward Chris and gripped the bottle tightly in both hands. Outside the office door waited the world in 2018 as he knew it, with a woman he loved, and a life that had finally moved on after his daughter’s tragic murder by his ex-wife.
More adventures waited outside the walls of the Wealth of Time, along with a lurking shadow in his soul that waited for life-altering pain.
Martin left the back office for the final time and didn’t look back. He grabbed Sonya from a nearby aisle and they departed the store as quickly as they had arrived. A long future waited ahead for them, and he had never been so eager to start the rest of forever, with her by his side.
; II
Warm Souls
Wealth of Time Series, Book #2
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Warm Souls Cover
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Chapter 1
It had rained every single day since they pulled Isabelle Briar’s remains from the lake. Martin had shed tears as he watched the dive crew jump into the water in search of his long-lost daughter. An hour later, they emerged with a pile of bones and Martin’s heart sunk as the gray skies cried heavy tears over the small town of Larkwood, Colorado.
His ex-wife, Lela, had already been taken into custody by the local police. Martin was forced to watch old pictures of his family flash by on the news and internet. The story was all anyone talked about, and he soon refused to show his face in public—especially with his new girlfriend nearby, who didn’t need the harassment of the limelight during her first week in 2018.
In 2018, news stories were posted online for viewers to watch at their leisure. These same stories were shared to social media for the entire world to watch, judge, and even leave their opinions in the form of a comment.
There were thousands of thoughts and prayers for Izzy, and this touched Martin as he scrolled through the comments. There were even dozens for Martin directly, people trying to step into his shoes and imagine their spouse murdering their child. But, as always on the internet, ugly, cruel people also crawled out of their dark corners and accused Martin of being a neglectful husband. Why wasn’t he home that night? Was he out at the bars? Having an affair?
Get fucking real, he thought, reading these ludicrous theories. He wondered why people bothered reading articles online if they were only going to form their own story.
Despite the trolls, the overall support from the online community helped Martin through a difficult week. So did Sonya.
Sonya had learned over their six months together in 1996 how to handle Martin’s emotions: when to insert herself into the situation, when to back off and give him space. This particular week was a balanced mixture.
Martin’s cell phone rang constantly from relatives and friends all around the country. Sonya still gawked in amazement every time he spoke into the tiny device.
“What can I do for you?” she had asked the night after the body recovery.
“Just be here. Please don’t stress about doing anything. We can order takeout for every meal, I really don’t care. Just being by my side is all I can ask from you right now.”
Seeing Izzy’s bones pulled from the water had fucked with his mind; part of him had expected her body to still be somewhat intact.
“Unfortunately, people litter this lake, making it more acidic,” a member from the forensics team had told him. “That accelerates the decomposition process.”
Martin had spoken with a handful of forensic team members, and each of them spoke in the same tone: flat and emotionless.
He thought of these events as he stared at the casket, its perfect black gloss still glimmering on the gloomy day. The prior night was the rosary service at the church, an event he still couldn’t remember. Before arriving to the cemetery was the funeral service at the same church, also a fuzzy memory. All he could do was stare at the coffin and allow the burden of regret to settle on his soul.
Sure, he received the closure he had sought by learning what exactly had happened to his daughter after 22 years of wondering. But what he really wanted was one final hug, one last kiss on her forehead, a final whiff of her scent to hold in his lungs and heart forever.
He never encountered her when he had traveled to 1996, always keeping a safe distance to watch her from afar like a guardian angel, terrified to tinker with the past before learning how it worked. Only guardian angels weren’t supposed to stand helplessly outside the house while the one they protected was murdered inside.
Thinking of those few minutes of hell made him clench his fists and tremble with rage. Chris, the old man, the keeper of time or whatever the fuck he was, had knowingly set him up for failure. There was no situation where Martin could have barged into the house and saved the day; he had no reason to believe that Izzy’s demise would come from inside.
God damn it all.
The priest droned on in the background as Martin kept his eyes fixed on the casket. His daughter was in there, never able to laugh or sing again. Martin’s mother sat on his right, hugging his arm. A gathering of roughly fifty friends and family came to show their support for Martin and Izzy. When the story became widespread news, Martin was asked if the funeral would be open to the public, which he promptly rejected.
The priest finally stopped speaking and many of the guests visited Martin in the front row to offer him hugs and handshakes, wishing him the best in his recovery. He mindlessly returned the hugs and mumbled a quick thanks as people moved down the line.
After fifteen minutes the cemetery had cleared out, leaving Martin alone with Sonya and his mother. The funeral director prepared to lower Izzy into the earth. He didn’t want to watch, but felt comfort in knowing where she was.
“Do you feel up to grab some coffee?” his mother, Marilyn, asked. “My treat.”
“Sure.” Martin just wanted to leave the cemetery.
They all walked slowly to the car, Marilyn struggling up a slight hill to the parking lot. Sonya handled the driving on this emotional day and took them to the nearest coffee shop in a silent car ride.
When they arrived, Martin grabbed a table while Sonya and his mother went to order the drinks. They had gotten along well despite just meeting a few days ago. Marilyn hadn’t asked where they had met in the midst of all the commotion, and he was glad because they hadn’t discussed a story to tell people when asked that very question.
They joined Martin at the table.
“Martin, I need to tell you something,” Marilyn said, a sudden shift in her already solemn tone. “I know this isn’t the best day, but it really can’t wait any longer.”
“Mom, what’s wrong?” he asked, a pit forming in his stomach.
She forced a smile as she stared down to her coffee cup, running a finger nervously around the brim.
“I’ve been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.”
Martin’s jaw dropped and Sonya seemed to shrink into herself. Welcome to 2018 with Martin Briar, where kids get buried and mothers contract deadly diseases.
Chris, he immediately thought. That motherfucker. He’d been waiting for something bad to happen; the old man had told him it would when he least expected it.
“I. . . I don’t know what to say,” Martin replied.
“There’s nothing to say.” Marilyn said flatly. “It’s not in the early stages, either. The doctors said I have two to four years to live, and that the symptoms will start progressing any day now.”
Not realizing he had any more left, tears formed in Martin’s eyes. “Have you already been suffering?”
His mother, who seemed to have aged twenty years in the last five minutes, nodded gently as a tear rolled down her cheek. “I’ve been forgetful with silly things: where I put my keys, what I was looking for in the kitchen. I didn’t think anything of it until I got in the car to go to church and couldn’t remember which way to go.”
The church was only a mile from her house, the same one he had seen burnt to ashes on his trip to 1996.
“Mom, I’m so sorry.”
“I know. And I wanted to tell you before I get any worse. I don’t know when that will be. My mind still feels clear, and I don’t know what exactly it’s going to do.”
She fell silent. They all knew how this would progress and eventually end.
“I’ve made arrangements with a senior home that specializes in Alzheimer’s. It’s just over in Grant.”
Martin shook his head aggressively. “No. I’m not letting you go to that home.”
“Marty, it’s okay. You’ll be able to visit – it’s only a fifteen-minute drive.”
Martin’s face had turned bright red as tears and mucus flowed from his eyes and nose, pooling together on his chin.
“Marty, there’s no room for me in your apartment—”
“I’m moving,” he interrupted. “I’ve come into some money and am going to buy a house.”
He wasn’t lying, but he also wasn’t sure exactly how much money was waiting for him in his investment account, either. That would have to go on the to-do list for tomorrow.
“Money from what?” his mother asked.
“I’ve done some investing, and things have exploded for me.”
“You never mentioned this.”
It felt like it had been six months since they last met for dinner after their quick trip to the mysterious store, the Wealth of Time, which it had been for Martin, but in reality it had only been a week. Martin didn’t keep much from his mother, so her surprise was warranted in this scenario.
“It sort of took off over night. Caught me by surprise as well.”
“Well that’s great news, Marty. I still don’t want to burden you. The toll this disease can take on the family shouldn’t be questioned.”
“I know it’ll be hard, but I’m going to step away from my job. I’ve come into that much money.”
He didn’t know if this was for certain. Yes, there should be a good sum of money to at least live off for a couple of years. It was also possible that his investments changed the route of history and saw the companies flop. Maybe he would have to go back to his miserable job at the post office, but his bad fortune had to turn around at some point.
“You’re living with me, Mom. You don’t have a say in the matter.”
He almost said us, but caught himself. His mother wouldn’t have an issue with Martin and Sonya living together, but he wanted to avoid the topic at the moment.
“I love you, Marty. That’s the main thing I wanted to tell you now before I forget who you are.”