9781940740065

by Paul B. Kohler

  Benny hadn’t changed. It had only been four months, but Peter thought everyone was going to be different when he came in tonight. Everyone was exactly the same. Maybe it was just him that was changing.

  “Well, at least you’ve got a job, you schmuck,” Peter teased.

  “Yeah, sorry ’bout that. Any luck on the job front?” Benny’s look became a bit too somber for Peter’s liking.

  “I’ve got some things in the works. Great things, Benny. That’s kind of why I came in tonight. I wanted to talk to you about some things. Where the hell have you been?”

  “Long story, buddy. Short version, I was having a few drinks at, uh… hold on.” Benny paused as Joe brought drinks.

  “Hey Joe, could you bring us a few more shots? Tequila this time, and no training wheels either,” asked Peter.

  Joe nodded and returned to the bar.

  “Shots? Peter, I’m already a bit too liquored up to have shots.”

  “Trust me, with what I’ve got to say, you’ll need these, plus a few more. So, you were telling me where you were before?”

  “No, no. No changing the subject like that. What’s this big news you’ve got to share?”

  Peter leaned back, looking at Benny, wondering how much he should share about the mission. He had to talk to somebody about it, and Benny was his go-to guy. He’d been there for Peter through all his troubles the last few years. Benny was his best friend and had a good head on his shoulders. He couldn’t tell his kids. Stella wasn’t bright enough to understand what the offer meant. Yes, it had to be Benny.

  “Tell me, Benny. What do you know about 1942?” asked Peter, before he tossed back a shot.

  CHAPTER 9

  It was the third succession of heavy knocks that finally woke Peter from the dead. He had been dreaming about rare coins, Stella’s ruby red lips and shots of tequila.

  A loud knock-knock-knock was heard throughout the house.

  “Brett!” Peter yelled. “Can you go see who that is?”

  Not hearing an acknowledgment, he wondered if his son had heard him. He pushed the sheets off himself and swung his legs to the floor as he sat up. He stretched, then leaned over, resting his face in the palms of his hands, reliving the night before. He felt like crap, and once again, he mentally swore off drinking heavily ever again. It was an all-too-familiar agreement that he’d made with himself over the last few years. And each time, the self-imposed deal was broken for one reason or another.

  Peter sat on the side of his bed for several more minutes before Brett came into his room.

  “Dad? There’s some guy here to see you. He says you know him? General Applesomething.”

  “Thanks, kiddo. Tell him I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

  “Do you really know him? He’s got a couple people with him, and Dad, they look kind of familiar.”

  “Familiar how?”

  “I don’t know. Almost like I’ve seen ‘em before, but I can’t remember where.”

  “Okay, well, I’ll tell you and your sister all about it later. Can you make some coffee and offer them some? I’ll be down in a minute.”

  Brett nodded and closed the door as he left. Peter glanced at the clock: 11:35. He was surprised by how late it was, but not as surprised as he was about the general’s visit. He thought he had a full week to decide whether to accept the mission or not.

  Not wanting to fall back asleep, he forced himself to get up. He grabbed the pile of clothes from the night before and went into the bathroom to clean himself up.

  As he washed and brushed his teeth quickly, his mind replayed the events from the night before. Most of the night was pretty clear. He remembered talking with Joe. He remembered avoiding Stella’s advances far too many times. He remembered making some kind of scene and breaking a glass. Why did I do that?, he wondered. He remembered talking to Benny, but couldn’t remember everything they talked about. He sort of recalled talking about old pennies for some reason, but he couldn’t be sure.

  Peter rinsed the toothpaste from his mouth and spat. He looked at himself in the mirror and felt like he was missing something important from last night. He again tried to retrace his steps from the night before. There was something about Stella… but he couldn’t pull the memory into view. He remembered her hugging him and thanking him for something. What was it?

  He turned from the mirror and grabbed his clothes. He pulled on his jeans and slid his arms into the button-up shirt, all the while thinking about Stella and the hug. He turned back to the mirror to run his fingers through his hair, and that’s when it hit him. Everything began to rush into his mind at the same time. The couple that was at the bar. The image of their faces in his mind was so much clearer now, and he strangely felt a familiarity with them—like he had seen them before. But where?

  Back in his bedroom, he slid his feet into his loafers and walked toward his bedroom door. As he reached for the handle, he paused a moment, still thinking about the couple. Could they have been the two walking into the ice cream shop the day before? As he recalled the memory of them walking in, he was positive that they were the same couple from the bar. He wasn’t completely positive, but he also felt like he may have seen them other places throughout the week. He was being followed. He was sure of it now. He pulled open the door and walked down the stairs, determined to get some answers from Applegate.

  CHAPTER 10

  Peter was dumbfounded at what he saw when he walked into the living room. He was expecting to see the general and two other people, as Brett had mentioned. Just not the general and… the same couple that had been following him around over the last week.

  “Peter. Sorry to drop in unannounced, but we need to talk,” the general said as he stood up to greet Peter.

  “That’s fine, General, but I thought I had a bit of time to think the offer through,” Peter replied, not looking at him, but at the two others in the room.

  “That’s why I’m here, Peter. I’m afraid the decision now needs to be made immediately—because of your indiscretions last night.”

  “What do you mean? I don’t think my discretions from last night are of any of your business.”

  “Oh, but they are, Peter. You made them my concern when you talked about the mission to your friends. Benny and Stella, was it?”

  Peter flinched noticeably upon hearing his friends’ names. Clearly, the two others in the room did in fact work for the general, and had been there to keep tabs on his movements. This sudden realization pissed him off.

  “First off, I’ve not told anyone about the mission. Second, what gives you the right to have me followed around?” he snapped, while gesturing towards the general’s companions.

  “Calm down, Peter. There’s no need to get upset.” Applegate smiled while waving him toward a seat.

  “Peter, I would like you to meet a couple of people. They are not the bad guys. This is Julie. She has recently signed onto the mission.” Applegate turned from the woman to the man next to her. “And this here is Mark. He’s part of the security detail that everyone on the mission is assigned. If you accept, security personnel will be assigned to you as well.”

  Peter finally took his eyes off of the couple and looked directly at General Applegate. “Is all this security really necessary? If nobody knows about the mission, why would they matter?”

  “To be blunt, Peter, it is because of actions like the ones you undertook last night. We have to be absolutely sure not one word gets out regarding the mission.”

  “I understand that, but a heads-up would have been nice. And for what it’s worth, I didn’t say a word to anyone about anything,” Peter exclaimed, hoping his actions from last night would not betray his spotty memory.

  “That was a pretty crafty scheme that you and the bartender pulled last night,” Julie said, speaking for the first time, a slight smile attempting to cross her face. “It wasn’t until we tracked down Charlie’s clear across town that we realized you’d given us the slip.

  “Yeah, about
that. I wasn’t sure what to think about you two. I would have bought you a drink if I had known you were only there to babysit me.” As Peter said this, Julie broke his eye contact and looked away, obviously embarrassed. Mark, on the other hand, stared directly into Peter’s eyes, his gaze unwavering.

  Peter watched the body language of his visitors, and realized that all three were relaxed. It was only him that was uptight. Just the night before, he was nearly positive he was going to take the mission. Now, he wasn’t so sure. The whole mess was a bit too cloak-and-dagger for his liking. There was silence in the room as these thoughts crossed Peter’s mind.

  “Peter, how can we really know for sure you haven’t mentioned anything to your friends?”

  “Is my word not good enough for you?”

  “Honestly, Peter, no it’s not. Mark feels that you may have compromised the mission by talking with your friend Benedict Welsh, and—”

  Peter stopped the general. “You can forget that right now. Benny knows nothing. I’ll give you that it may have looked suspicious last night. To tell the truth, I’d just about decided to accept your offer before I went to the bar. It had been several months since I’d been out, and I knew that if I did in fact go on your mission, it would be a while before I would be seeing my friends again. I just wanted to see them one last time before…”

  Peter trailed off. As he spoke, he realized that he could potentially lose everything he had—his family, his friends—if the mission failed. And for all he knew, he could possibly lose everything if the mission was actually a success as well. Up to that point he had thought only of how the mission could help him. Digging out of the financial hole he’d been in for the last two years had been his main motivation. He’d never really thought about how this decision would affect so many other people. What he’d earlier thought of as being a simple decision, he now saw was a life-altering resolution.

  Peter stood and began to pace about the room. The eyes of the general and his companions followed his every step. He was, again, re-evaluating everything the general had to offer. He just wished he knew more about what kind of effect time travel would have on him and his life. He thought about pouring himself a drink, but ruled out the idea just as quickly.

  “Peter? Everything okay?” asked Applegate.

  At the sound of the general’s voice, Peter felt like he was being overly scrutinized, everyone watching him. “Can we speak privately, General? Do they need to be here?” Peter said, pointing to Julie and Mark.

  “Not a problem, Peter,” he replied. He turned to the couple. “Why don’t you two go grab a coffee around the corner. I’ll call you when we’re finished.”

  Julie and Mark stood and silently walked toward the door. As they did so, Julie paused near Peter and gave him a reassuring smile. Moments later, the door clicked shut, and Peter and the general were alone.

  “Now, is this better, Peter?”

  “Much.” He sat down across from the general and tried to recall everything that he had planned on asking. “I have some more questions, if you don’t mind.”

  “By all means, Peter. If I can answer them, I certainly will.”

  “First off, if I go back in time, and happen to die, what will happen to my kids in the present?”

  “As I understand it, Peter, your children will only know that you died in your training cover story. They will know nothing about your time travel mission.”

  “Okay, about that. If I accept, I want a college trust in place for both of them. I also want my house paid off. If I’m going back in time, risking my life on a hypothetical mission, I want some assurances that my family will be taken care of.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, Peter. I completely understand where you’re coming from on this matter. I will certainly agree to those requirements for you, but I have to tell you: they will not matter.”

  Peter was stunned. “Not matter? How can it not matter? They’re my children, for Christ’s sake. They absolutely matter!”

  “I’m sorry, Peter. You misunderstood me. It won’t matter if I pay off the house, or pay for their college today, because once you go back in time, you will instantly alter how history will advance from the moment you make a single change in 1942. You see, once you change something in the past, the future might not be the same as you remember. Your memories—as well as the memories of everyone else going on the mission—will remain in place, as they will be linear to you and only you. But for any of us staying in this present, well, we will have no recollection of the events happening up to that point. Our memories will shift at the point when you and your team come back.”

  The general paused a moment to let Peter absorb what he was telling him. “The dynamic of you and the team going on the mission will allow you to maintain your memories, as if they actually happened. But in reality… they never did. You could come back to a world where you are single, or married to another person entirely.”

  “Why didn't you tell me any of this before?” Peter demanded.

  “Because if I did, you may not have considered the mission in the first place. Listen, Peter. According to our calculations, the mission has nothing but upside potential for all of civilization. If you go back and complete your mission successfully, our analysts assure me that your life will be very similar to, if not better than, the way it currently is. The algorithms that have been run on the success of the mission—run hundreds of times, I assure you—mostly result in you marrying Mary, and having two children.”

  “How can you know exactly who I would marry again if the mission is successful? Who is to say I don't find French women irresistible after the mission?”

  “Just because you’re going to France on the mission does not necessarily dictate that you will have a fondness for their women. You see, you’re going back to 1942 from the present day. You will return to the shifted now. Your mission will have no influence on whom you will marry in-between. You will have not have been born in 1942, so, you will have no contact with yourself.”

  Peter's head ached from trying to wrap his mind around the whole theory of time travel. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

  “Peter, the odds are with you on this. You have to trust me.”

  “What exactly are the odds? Or are you not allowed to tell me that either?”

  “No, unfortunately, I am not at liberty to discuss the exact odds with you, but believe me when I tell you, they are outstanding.”

  Peter broke down and crossed the room to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a scotch, despite the hangover. He wasn’t sure of the exact cause of his headache anymore. He twirled the glass around in his hand, thinking about everything the general had just told him. He had been prepared to accept the mission, with all the promised benefits, yet without any concessions on the general’s part. That was, until now.

  “I'm sorry, General. I need more information. You tell me that I will have full access if I accept and sign the mission accord. I am not going to sign anything unless you give me the exact odds of success.”

  Now, it was the general that was silent. He sat for a long moment before speaking.

  “The probability that you will have the same life and family upon your return…” the general paused momentarily before continuing, “…is fifty-five percent.”

  “Fifty-five percent?! How the hell is that an outstanding figure?”

  “That is a fifty-five percent chance that you return to the same life as you have now. There are many other variables that directly affect those odds, and most of them are only positive. Your life when you return may very well be significantly better. Those odds are incalculable. Peter, you asked for the odds that your life will remain relatively the same. That is what I gave you.”

  Peter listened, and although he was working through a puzzle far beyond his understanding, he did realize one thing. During the entire conversation with the general, Peter had been gradually recalling more of the discussion from the night before, the one with Benny. He remembered the
1943 copper pennies, and he knew that they were his way of making the situation right for him, and him only. He would accept the mission and make sure he had some alone time back in 1942.

  After several minutes of exaggerated reflection, Peter finally spoke.

  “Okay, General. I know you say it won’t matter, but I would like the college trust and the house paid for. Once those are taken care of, I’m in.”

  Peter looked Brigadier General Harrison Applegate in the eyes and smiled.

  “When do we leave?”

  CHAPTER 0

  May 8th, 1942

  Michael Gallagher slid the final Thyratron into the empty slot then began retracing his path back out from inside the monstrous device. As he ducked and crawled beneath several crossbeams, he contemplated just how much longer Dr. Bernard Epson would chase his dream. This was his third trip into the belly of the Atanasoff–Berry Computer-styled processor that the doctor had designed and built to control the hundreds of calculations for his partially-completed time machine. He wondered just how many more blown tubes and melted wires would have to be replaced before the doctor surrendered. Michael knew what the problem was, and had known for quite some time, but he wasn't about to aid the doctor in his dangerous enterprise. Michael smirked as he pulled himself out the final five feet.

  "All fixed!" Michael announced as he brushed himself off for what felt like the hundredth time over the last month.

  "Good. Good. How many was it this time?" asked Dr. Epson.

  "Thirteen in all, Doctor, but . . ." Michael intentionally paused before continuing, knowing the reaction he would receive from his longtime employer.

  "But what, Michael?" asked the doctor.

  "Well, those were the last of our Thyratrons." Michael waited optimistically for the explosion of Dr. Epson’s verbal fury. But, to his surprise, there was no outburst.

  Dr. Epson looked perplexed. "Then I suppose we should double- and triple-check everything before we try another computation," he stated while studiously examining various settings across the vast control board.