Wealth of Time Series Boxset

by Andre Gonzalez

  Martin sat back, not quite slouching into the soft couch, but needing a moment to gather himself. The truth, a lifelong truth, hit him on the head with the force of a speeding diesel truck.

  “I’m sorry, Mom, I can’t handle this right now. I really do have to get your medicine, and I will be back.”

  Martin stood, hot anger filling his gut that he wasn’t sure was directed toward his mother or his father. The new revelation made him dizzy with confusion, and somewhere in the deepest, most intimate fibers of his being, he already knew he wanted to travel back to this particular night of his father abandoning the family, and learn what exactly happened.

  Yeah, and we all saw how well that turned out this last time.

  He shook the idea out of his head, the thought overwhelming his already flustered mind.

  “Do what you need to do,” Marilyn said. “But if you claim this could be the last time we speak to each other, I just thought you should know the truth.”

  With tears welling in his eyes, Martin leaned toward his mother. “I love you, Mom. And this truth doesn’t change anything. You raised me and I’m happy with how my life turned out.” These last words were ones he never thought he’d hear leave his lips. While he had suffered incomparable pain throughout his life, he had no regrets. “Now. I’m leaving, I’m getting your medicine, and I’ll be back here within two hours at the latest.”

  Marilyn nodded, keeping her lips pursed as Martin kissed her one final time on the forehead before turning and walking out of the house.

  When he closed the front door, he stood on the top step of the porch and ran a hand down the smooth stone walls that lined the mansion’s main entrance. He had his new life waiting for him right here in 2019, and it would always be there. All he wanted was to make sure that his mother would be there with him, too.

  99

  Chapter 6

  Martin drove like a maniac, weaving through the traffic that had formed during his quick hour at home. He had intended to draft a document to serve as his last will and testament should he die on this trip, but didn’t foresee this elephant of a revelation being dropped on his head by his mother.

  He thought back to the morning of his childhood when his mother had sat at the kitchen table in their small ranch home, crying with stacks of papers spread out across the table.

  When he and his brother had entered the kitchen, she sat them down and told them their father had suffered a heart attack in the middle of the night. She hadn’t mentioned that he was dead, forcing Martin to ask the dreaded question.

  Marilyn had refused to say it aloud, only nodding her head in confirmation, and now it all made sense knowing it was a lie. It ended up as the main turning point in Martin’s life, losing his father as a child just starting middle school, but his mother had stepped up in a heroic way, ensuring nothing skipped a beat in their household.

  He watched the sky and prayed this mission would end within a day. He had no desire to study the future and see what a shithole the world would one day become. Just give me the medicine and get me the fuck back.

  When he arrived to the office, Martin parked and waited in the car. His stomach throbbed with anxiety, and his legs turned to mush as they bounced beneath the steering wheel. He hadn’t felt nerves like this since his first trip to 1996. A sense that death was waiting for him on the other side of this trip had swelled within. Death or failure now seemed more plausible than success and a happy life.

  For the first time, Martin considered turning around and dumping the Juice down the sink. The Road Runners certainly moved with an uncanny urgency, a trait that was already rubbing off on Martin, and kept pushing him into rushed decisions.

  You were already thinking of the next mission after this. You’re hooked. And since when? What happened to the old Martin who was content with a glass of whisky and a cigar?

  “He died when Izzy was murdered and thrown into the lake,” Martin said, pushing open the car door and stumbling onto the sidewalk. He faced the building with his hands on his hips, as if he were about to enter the old Colosseum for battle. “Just take it one day at a time. One hour at a time. And everything will be okay.”

  He entered the building and marched to the back of the office where the stairs led down to his upcoming fate.

  * * *

  Strike and Tarik were gathered in Tarik’s office, the door open as they carried on with an apparently casual conversation. Tarik saw Martin and waved him in. No one in the office paid him any attention.

  “Well, that was quick,” Strike said, standing up to meet Martin at the doorway. “Your team is here, in the main conference room. Let’s head down and meet them.”

  She pushed by Martin and led them to the conference room where he had just experienced his first freezing of time with Steffan a couple hours ago. When they entered, the room was restored to its typical setup of scattered tables and chairs.

  A group of three men gathered around a table beside the entryway, the same area where the scientists had sat while Steffan and Martin danced around on camera.

  The three men turned their heads in unison as the group entered the room, and Martin was taken back by a massive dark-skinned man who stood and approached them.

  His bald head gleamed under the lighting, and Martin noticed a horrific scar that ran from the man’s left eye to his jaw. He towered over Martin, standing damn close to seven feet tall, and stuck out an arm that looked bigger than Martin’s entire torso. “You must be Martin,” he said, gripping Martin’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you and your training. Impressive for an older man coming off an injury like yours.”

  Is this gigantic man actually complimenting my physical abilities? Martin thought the man could easily pick him up and chuck him across the room like a sack of potatoes.

  “My name’s Gerald. Gerald Holmes.”

  “Nice to meet you, Gerald. I’m not sure what you mean about training. I don’t think I did anything that remarkable.”

  “I’m good friends with Staff Master Collins. Don’t underestimate how well you did. He raved about you and your dedication. Working hard is ninety percent of the battle.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “Gerald here is the one I mentioned who has been to the future before,” Strike added.

  “That’s where I got my scar, but we can talk about that later.”

  “He’ll sort of be the one in charge since he knows his way around and knows what to expect.”

  Sort of?

  Now Martin picked apart every word spoken by Commander Strike. Her last statement sounded unsure of herself, revealed her to be lacking confidence in her decisions. Wasn’t she supposed to be in charge of everything? If she wanted Gerald to lead this mission, then she should just say it.

  The two others had gathered behind Gerald, hidden behind his massive frame that reminded Martin of poor John Coffey from The Green Mile.

  “Brigham?” Martin asked, seeing a familiar face. “You’re coming with us now?”

  The scientist nodded. “I figured why not take advantage? We never really get out and study in the real world. I’m terrified and excited.”

  The other man, who stood eye-level with Martin and boasted a slight potbelly, stepped to the front. “I’m Webster Baldwin, but you can call me Web. Or Baldy. Doesn’t really matter to me.” Webster had ruffled black hair and droopy brown eyes that looked depressed.

  “Web is our brains,” Gerald said. “He’ll be the one suggesting our best courses of action, as he has studied the geography of the area.”

  “I know the places to avoid, the places to relax, and the secret ways into places we shouldn’t be,” Web added. “Think of me as working in the background to keep us all safe. On that note, shall we begin?”

  Martin’s stomach drained of all fluids as he looked at this group of men he’d be going into the future with. Someone thought it was a good idea to incorporate Martin and Gerald as equals, at least in terms of fieldwork.

&nbs
p; This has to be a mistake, Martin thought. Sure, he had felt accomplished throughout training, even strong and confident, but how would this work with him being Gerald’s right-hand man in a gunfight with Revolters? He had the skills to hit a target when there was no pressure aside from a handful of people watching, but to be thrust into the nastiest part of this war with no prior experience seemed ludicrous. He expected to be going with a whole team of Geralds.

  This has to be a mistake. A clerical error.

  “Yes, let’s gather around and get started,” Strike said, and everyone returned to the table.

  “Commander Strike?” Martin asked. “Can I have a word with you?”

  She nodded. “One moment, everyone,” she said to the group, and pulled open the door to step outside the conference room. When the door clicked shut, she asked, “Is everything all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m trying to understand this team I’m going with. It seems Gerald is the only one who’s physically capable of . . . battling Revolters.”

  Strike scrunched her face in confusion. “This is a standard squad that we send into the future: two combat-savvy Road Runners, and two scientists or researchers.”

  “I’m the other combat person?”

  “Do you not think you are?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Martin,” she sighed, her blue eyes swimming back and forth. “I don’t know why you think so lowly of yourself. Have you not looked in the mirror lately? You are just as physically capable as Gerald. You’re not even going into war—this is more a stealth type of mission—but you still need to be strong and agile, which you are.”

  The truth was Martin hadn’t looked in the mirror for quite some time. Sure, he’d catch a glance in the morning when brushing his teeth and washing his face, but he no longer examined himself, terrified to see more gray hairs and wrinkles than he’d like to acknowledge.

  “It just seems weird to me that you make the future sound like this horrific place and want to send in Gerald with three people who probably shouldn’t be there.”

  “You wouldn’t be going if you didn’t pass your training.” Strike crossed her arms and furrowed her brow. “You do remember this is your mission, right? You asked me for this as a favor. I warned against it, but you insisted. What were you expecting, for us to just go do this for you?”

  “Well, no. I—”

  She raised a finger, once again flashing her authority that Martin had originally known. Like Steffan said, she was a great leader in one-on-one situations. “I don’t want to hear another word about this, Martin. I put this mission together for you as a thank-you for almost dying in the Sonya debacle. I’m not undoing it.” She kept her finger raised while her stern words hung in the air for a few seconds. “Now, can we go back in there and discuss this mission with the rest of the team?”

  Martin nodded and followed Commander Strike back into the conference room.

  100

  Chapter 7

  “Let’s get to business,” Strike barked as she stormed into the room, Martin trailing behind.

  Everyone was seated and looked down to the table as they sensed an immediate shift in Strike’s mood. Martin sat between Tarik and Brigham.

  “Gerald,” Strike said, nodding to him.

  Gerald had a notebook that he flipped open and ran a finger down.

  “Okay, lots to cover,” Gerald said in his booming voice. “To start, we’ll be driving over to the location of our weapons warehouse and transporting from there. The building is located in Watkins, about a thirty-minute drive east of downtown in the plains. It’s underground and will be considered the safest place to return should you come into trouble in 2064.”

  “Is there something wrong with this office in 2064?” Brigham asked.

  “Yes, it doesn’t exist.” Gerald said this matter-of-fact. “It was raided and eventually bombed by the Revolters when they learned it was a Road Runner office. I think that happened in 2048.” Gerald looked into the air as if he were reliving the event.

  Strike glared across the table to Martin.

  “Now as far as the actual mission,” Gerald continued. “We know the medicine is housed at three separate hospitals in the city. Web, you’ll need to find which hospital is the best one for us to try and take it from. The meds are stored in the basement of each facility, with two armed guards at each door. The guards are Revolters—not hospital staff—so we’ll also need to figure out how to get by them without causing any gunfire—they will shoot any of us on sight if they find out we’re Road Runners. On that note, special attire will be provided when we arrive to help us blend in around town.”

  “How are we getting around?” Brigham asked.

  “We have a car, but need to be wary of where we park it, because it can be stolen if we have to leave it in a shady place. Minor detail, but plan to do a good amount of walking once in town.”

  Gerald referred to his notebook before speaking again.

  “One thing to note is that you will always be on camera once you step outside. Cameras cover every inch of space—this government likes to watch its people closely. There are areas that even have hidden microphones, so it’s imperative to not speak about any Road Runner business out loud, or anything negative about the New Age Revolution, for that matter. If the microphones pick up any key words, there will be a squad of Revolters hunting you down. Is that understood?”

  Everyone nodded, shifting in their seats.

  What the fuck kind of world is this? Martin wondered.

  “To further build off this,” Gerald continued. “If we’re out in public, avoid striking up conversations with random people. The Revolters go undercover to talk with people in coffee shops, grocery stores, wherever, in an attempt to learn of their political leanings. They’ll try to get you to admit you don’t like the current administration. If you say anything along these lines, they’ll either arrest you or shoot you, depending on the severity of what you say. It’s best to just not say anything. The right of free speech has been replaced by the right of silence.”

  Brigham and Web both nodded excitedly at the revelation. While it terrified Martin, they clearly wanted to learn more.

  “Is it President Poe who’s running the country in 2064?” Web asked.

  “Yes. President Poe. And it’s an election year, so the crazies are out even more than normal. President Poe is running for his fifth term in 2064, and he’ll easily win. He was elected in 2048 under the official political party known as The Revolution. Halfway through his second term, Revolters had taken control of the Supreme Court, the House, and the Senate. He had zero resistance to abolishing the Twenty-Second Amendment and has been in power ever since.”

  Brigham and Web went from nodding to scribbling notes in their own notepads.

  “Question,” Martin said, not sure if he was allowed to speak up. “Are there any good people in the future?”

  Strike smirked as Gerald answered. “Of course. There are Road Runners, and there are lots of people who stayed after the Revolters came into power. They just can’t speak of any of it. There are even people who appear to be hardcore Revolters, but it’s just an act to survive.”

  “How do we know who’s who?”

  “We don’t. That’s why you don’t talk to anyone about it.”

  “The future sounds like pure chaos,” Brigham said, running his fingers in circles over the table.

  “That’s a good way of putting it,” Gerald said.

  “Where are we staying?” Brigham asked.

  “Just outside downtown. I’m not allowed into the city because I’m black, unless I were to go undercover as a janitor. We’ll figure those details out later.”

  “Isn’t outside of the city dangerous?” Martin asked, not fully processing Gerald’s previous statement.

  “Yes, but as long as we stick together, we’ll be fine. People don’t really mess with me, and if you’re with me, they’ll leave you alone, too. Never go out by yourself, especially at nigh
t. Does anyone have any questions?”

  Everyone shook their heads as Commander Strike stood up. “I don’t have a question, but I’d like to say something.”

  Gerald nodded at her to continue.

  “I want you all to know that Sonya was spotted last night in 2064, and she’s apparently under the protection of the Revolters. We believe this is purely a coincidence that she’s in this year, but we may have a new mission for you when you arrive. Research is still being conducted, and we’ve commissioned a team of scouts to the area for the sake of tracking her down. She’s in downtown Denver and will likely never step foot outside of it.”

  “Are you talking about having us hunt her down?” Martin asked.

  Strike stared at Gerald as she responded, sure to avoid Martin’s eyes. “It’s possible, but I can’t confirm that yet. It depends what information our team comes back with. If it’s plausible to capture or kill her, we may have your squad carry out that mission.”

  “Commander Strike,” Gerald cut in. “I don’t know if this is the best squad for such a task.”

  “It’s not. But you’ll be there. Don’t worry, we won’t put you into a position for failure. If we decide to move forward with a new mission, it’ll be one that fits within your qualifications.”

  Silence hung in the room as Gerald wrote in his notebook, a frown on his face that clearly showed his displeasure with the news.

  “You will all do great,” Strike finally said. “I wouldn’t have brought this up if I felt differently.”

  The rest nodded, but Martin remained still. He wondered if this was a desperate ploy to right her wrongs from the previous botched attempt. Would the highest ranking official of the Road Runners really put four of her own people at risk for the sake of correcting a mistake?