Am I in hell? she thought as the crows laughed in chaotic unison.
“You’re not in hell. I am,” her mother’s voice cackled from the tombstone.
“Mom?”
“Yes, Sonya. I hope you’re happy. You sat by while your father killed me. Did you think I’d forget?”
A hand appeared atop the tombstone, fingers splayed out like a high-five, only the hand had gray skin, and random spots of flesh missing to reveal the bone underneath. It grasped the top of the stone, blending in with its grayness, before the rest of the body to which it was attached appeared.
The corpse had the characteristics of Sonya’s mother: high cheek bones, round nose, and eye brows stuck in a furrow. Her once silver hair was now thin streaks of white on a mostly bald head. The gray face drooped as if it might fall off the skull like a perfectly cooked rack of ribs. There were no eyes in the sockets, just two black holes that stared into Sonya’s soul.
Sonya tried to speak, but her throat clenched shut with tension. She tried to turn and run, but her knees locked, and her eyes refused to look away from her dead mother.
The corpse put both hands on top of the tombstone and glared down to it. It was cracked down the middle, right between the F and the I in Griffiths. Below the surname it read In memory of a most loving mother, Gloria.
The corpse managed a grin through the loose flesh, revealing yellow and black teeth. “You see that?” the voice croaked. “A most loving mother.”
Sonya remained frozen, heart thudding against her chest like a trapped person banging desperately on a locked door.
“I spent all those years raising you to be a woman, only to watch you stand aside while your father killed me. You didn’t even flinch! Tell me, Sonya, was it worth it?”
“Mom, I’m sorry!” she managed to shout with a sharp crack in her voice, tears pouring down her face.
“All I get is a ‘sorry’? Why don’t you come give your mother a kiss?”
The corpse reached out its arms, and this time the flabby flesh did fall to the ground in a gloop! sound that pushed Sonya to the brink of vomiting. Her mother smooched her lips before laughing like a madwoman.
The ground trembled, causing the crows to flap away and return to their depths in hell. The tombstone completed its collapse by splitting down the middle and falling to each side, and Sonya’s mother remained standing, howling at the skies turning black, making everything invisible.
The tension left Sonya’s body as the world changed in front of her, even though she couldn’t see it happening. It reminded her of a stage play when the crew would hurry and change the set during a brief moment of darkness. When the ground settled, she heard nothing but her heart pounding in her ears. Sweat formed heavy beads on her back, but she didn’t notice; all she wanted was to wake up.
“She’s over there,” a voice whispered from behind, and she whipped around to see nothing but more blackness. “Sonya,” it whispered again, then more whispering voices joined a chorus repeating her name, echoing in the silence. “Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid.”
The whispering grew louder, and she became convinced all of the voices were somehow coming from within her head.
“Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid.”
The voices repeated this a dozen times before fading back into silence.
“Sonya,” an older man’s voice came from behind her. She turned around to a flash light pointed right at her, blinding her as her arms shot up to shield her eyes. “It’s me, Chris, just wanting to make sure they don’t corrupt your mind.”
It was the old man from the antique store and she broke into immediate goose flesh at the sound of his voice.
“Get away from me!”
The flashlight turned upward to reveal the old man’s grinning face and blue eyes staring at her. “Now, now, Sonya. I can make life much worse for your precious Marty. Just make sure he stays loyal, or there will be hell to pay for you both.”
He flashed the light directly in her eyes, blinding her again.
When her vision refocused, she was standing in her old classroom from 1996, her students all seated and staring at her with frowns on their adolescent faces.
“Ms. Griffiths, you never came back. They said you would come back,” young Tommy said from the front row, his brows furrowed in concern. “Did you not want to teach us anymore?”
He spoke with the softness and innocence of a child who had been betrayed by an adult.
“No, of course not. I had to go, that’s all, it had nothing to do with you. I love you kids.”
“Come back, Ms. Griffiths! Come back! Come back!”
The kids started chanting together, pounding their little fists on the desks.
Sonya looked to the ceiling and shrieked.
* * *
She didn’t wake up screaming, but the sheets clung to her sweaty back. Her heart thumped in her ears as she panted for breath like she had just run a marathon.
Martin snored next to her, undisturbed by her quick trip to hell and back. He had no clock on the nightstand, so she checked her cell phone to find it was only 11:30. She hadn’t been asleep for two hours and it felt like a whole two days had passed.
Everything had moved so quickly from the time Martin asked her to join him in the future. Too quickly. She left her students without a word. They were probably all worried sick when she failed to show up or respond to any outreach. Her world wasn’t the only one flipped upside down when she left for the future, but there was nothing she could do about it now.
In the midst of the commotion it became clear what she needed to do before going back in time with Martin to track down her grandfather.
I need to visit my mom’s grave.
She would drive to Colorado Springs in the morning, but for now had to find a way to fall back asleep. She stared at the ceiling, listening to the steady whooshing sound of the ceiling fan, unable to close her eyes, fearful of all of her regrets and worries waiting on the other side of her eyelids.
65
Chapter 10
The next morning Sonya rolled out of bed at eight o’clock. She had played around on her cell phone to research her English spy grandfather, but came up with nothing further.
By the time she stepped foot on the ground, Martin was already five pages deep in a small notebook of baseball scores from the 1919 season. He hadn’t mentioned what awaited after they returned from this trip, but it was definitely driving the urgency in him to complete every task promptly.
She had volunteered to go buy the rare currency to use when they traveled back. Colorado Springs was about an hour away from Littleton, but she could make it in good time and be back before lunch with a clear mind and a crisp hundred dollar bill.
She dressed quickly and quietly, not wanting to draw any attention, and when she strolled to the living room, Martin was writing in his notebook with the laptop on his legs.
“How’s it going?” she asked.
“Good. I completely forgot 1919 was the year of the Black Sox scandal.”
Sonya stared at him blankly, having no idea what he was talking about.
“The Chicago White Sox were the best team in baseball, one of the best teams in the game’s history. They were paid off by the mob to throw the World Series and let Cincinnati win. They were huge favorites, so the payoffs for anyone who bet on the Reds were enormous. What I’ll do is make some decent money off the games during the end of the regular season, of course losing some on purpose, before placing a big bet on the Reds to win the World Series. Why not stock up on this old currency while we can? In case we decide to come back for a luxurious vacation one day.”
“I think after this we’ll definitely need a vacation. So what’s the plan for today?”
Martin put the laptop aside and stood from the couch, looking over his shoulder to the hallway toward his mother’s room.
“I think we should leave after lunchtime. Make sure my mom is fed and content, maybe have her relax with a movi
e.”
Sonya nodded. “Okay. That’ll work. I need to go buy this currency.”
“Do you want me to go with you?” he asked.
“No, that’s okay. You stay here and make final preparations. I know where I’m going. I couldn’t sleep last night, so stayed up exploring the map on my phone. It’s pretty cool how you can drop yourself into the middle of the street and get an up close view of everything.”
“Is everything okay? Are you nervous about this trip?” he asked.
She was nervous, but for reasons she could never explain to him, so she made up a lie.
“I’m a little nervous. My grandfather was always spoken about like an old myth, on the rare instances he was actually mentioned. It’s like he was Santa Claus, and all I ever wanted was to know him. I still feel in shock by what we learned last night.”
“Yeah, I can imagine,” Martin said, crossing the room to embrace her. His scent was bitter, but she had grown to love it. She wanted to propose the idea of getting married, but thought it absurd after his many discussions slandering the institute of marriage. She still dreamed for a fairy-tale happy ending in her life, but that hope had vanished during her teenage years, leaving her no way to ever get her innocence back.
“Well, I really should get going if we want to stay on schedule. I’ll be back in a bit. Is there anything else I should get while I’m out?”
“No, I think we’re all set. I’ll order the lunch, so don’t worry about it.”
She kissed him, a faint taste of milk from his bowl of cereal still on his lips.
“I love you,” she said, leaving with the thought of her corpse mother weighing heavily on her mind.
* * *
The drive to Colorado Springs had light traffic and she made it there in fifty minutes, leaving her ten minutes ahead of schedule. She turned into St. Michael’s Cemetery, underneath a stunning archway decorated with sculptures of angels and flowers. Cemeteries always created a sick feeling within her, a grim reminder of what the finish line looks like, no matter how far away it may seem. A directory stood near the entrance. This was a map of the multiple loops and plot numbers. Beside the map was a bundle of laminated pages with the listings of every name currently resting within the grounds, alphabetized by last name.
Sonya flipped to the G’s, found the only Griffiths listed, and looked for plot 36 in loop B on the map. She hopped back in her car to drive through two other loops until she found loop B. Her arms trembled when she stepped out, and her legs felt like giving out if any more nerves built up within them.
She spotted the tombstone from forty feet away and enjoyed instant relief when she saw it had no crack down its center. The only damage was a couple of chips around the edges that likely came from years of weather.
Sonya stopped in front of the grave and studied the rest of the stone. The same quote was inscribed from her dreams, and this gave her a brief moment of goosebumps before she fell to her knees. She wanted to cry, the familiar urge pressing into her chest, but she simply couldn’t. Tears wouldn’t roll out of her eyes unless she chopped up a dozen onions. Her father had made sure of that much shortly after her mother’s death, leaving her an emotionless trainwreck.
How many others have visited you, Mom? she wondered. Their family in Denver was scarce, only a couple of cousins that she could think of. Everyone else lived out of state. There was a good chance Sonya was the first visitor to this grave since the funeral ceremony.
“I’m so sorry, Mom,” she cried. “I should’ve said something. I never wanted you to suffer.”
“You can always go back and save her,” a familiar voice said from behind.
Chris.
Sonya pivoted around, ready to swing at the old man, but decided it best to not cause a scene in the middle of a cemetery.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her sorrow vanishing and giving way to an instant rage.
“Why such anger toward me?” he asked, cracking that fucking grin.
“Anger? You disgust me. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but you better cut the shit out. Martin seems to believe you and your thugs, but I know you’re up to something. I just don’t know what.”
“You have it all wrong. Yes, I have to inflict pain on nice people like Martin, but it’s a fair exchange. Do you not consider the ability to travel through time a rare gift? Ninety-nine percent of people consider the idea fake and impossible. It’s the remaining sliver of the population that I target with this opportunity, the free thinkers of society. The believers.”
He had a point, but not one worth trusting.
“I get it, you get to play God by passing out your magical juice to people.”
“The world isn’t as simple as people like to think. Everyone falls into their routines, just counting down the days until their retirement, then their death. It’s sad to see so many people live that way, but every now and then I get to meet someone like Martin. My knowledge goes beyond that of time. You can learn a lot about people when you have the capability of going through time and seeing the person they once were. A person’s formative years are so crucial.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Angelina, dear, I always know what I’m talking about.”
“Fuck you! And don’t call me that!”
Chris winced at her shouting, but his grin remained. “My, my. You should know such attitude is frowned upon in 1919. If you act like this they’ll have eyes on you around town.”
Sonya gave up. She couldn’t stand arguing with this old piece of shit. “Crawl back into your hole and don’t ever show your face to either of us again. And don’t send your goons, either.”
Chris winced again. “Mario would not like to hear such hateful talk from a lady. I’ll be sure to pass on the message. Don’t let the Road Runners eat you alive, it might hurt.”
Chris blew her a kiss and turned to leave the cemetery.
Sonya had forgotten where she was or what she was doing. The gravestone of Gloria Griffiths watched the exchange, and Sonya turned to it, rage boiling to the top of her head. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
She left the cemetery with no closure.
66
Chapter 11
Martin packed the notebook into a briefcase. He also put on a suit, realizing no one in 1919 walked around in jeans and a t-shirt. The world was still very much formal and he’d suggest for Sonya to wear one of his mother’s older dresses to help her fit in with the times.
He started to wonder what was taking her so long when she finally pulled into the long driveway. The garage hummed as she pulled in and he met her at the entrance, splaying his arms out to act like a 1920’s entertainer.
“Everything okay?” Martin asked after she parked and got out. “What took so long?”
“I drove to Colorado Springs first.”
“The Springs? What for?”
“I had a dream about my mom last night, and I figured I should go visit her grave before we go back into the past.”
“Are you okay? You didn’t have to go alone—I would’ve joined if you asked.”
“I’m fine. I needed to go by myself. I had my moment there, but now I’m ready for our trip.” She stopped and examined his attire. “Why are you wearing that?” she asked with a grin.
Martin laughed. “It’s my outfit for the 20’s. What do you think?”
He spun in a circle to model his three-piece suit.
“I think I like it. I’ve never seen you in a suit before. We might just have to stay in the past if this is what you’re gonna wear every day.”
“Very funny. It’s your turn. My mom has some outfits you can wear.”
“I’m not wearing your mom’s clothes, that’s absurd.”
“You wanna show up in 1919 like this? Wearing sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt? They’ll think you’re homeless or a cheap hooker.”
“Well, good thing we need money, right?” Sonya said with a hearty laugh.
&n
bsp; “Sonya Griffiths, cracking a joke? I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Well my mind is all messed up right now, so you’re getting a weird version of me today, sorry.”
“Oh, no, it’s fine. No need to apologize, but you really should change. At least wear a long dress if you have one.”
“I have exactly one.”
“Perfect. We’ll need to blend in, not a good idea to stick out on our first day. All the men wear suits when they go out and about, and the women wear long dresses. No skin.”
“What time are we trying to leave?”
“My mom already ate. I think she’s in her room working on a crossword puzzle. So I was thinking we can have lunch, then get out of here.”
“Okay, that works.”
Martin had fought nerves all weekend, but speaking about the trip in such a nonchalant manner helped relax him. He still hadn’t retrieved the bottle of Juice from the basement bar, uneasy at the thought of drinking it.
Sonya disappeared to their bedroom, leaving Martin at the top of the basement stairwell.
Just grab it and bring it up, no need to stall at this point.
Martin ran with his brief moment of inner courage and walked down the stairs with his head held high. It was just a bottle of liquid, what was there to even be afraid of?
The bar stood in the back corner of the basement, overlooking the large party space. Cabinets lined the wall, and he pulled one open to rummage through the alcohol, bottles clinking together as he reached into the back. He could feel the Juice’s presence in the cabinet, and when his fingers found the bottle they clenched it, pulling reluctantly to bring it back into the open.
I wonder what happens if someone else drinks it? he thought. Knowing Chris, it would probably cause the person an eternity of emotional pain for him to feast on.
With the bottle in hand, Martin studied its contents—purple liquid flowing, tempting with its secrets—for a brief moment before running back up the stairs. His appetite for lunch had vanished, but he needed to force something down.
Wealth of Time Series Boxset Page 36
