Missing Time (313)

by J. David Clarke

  For a long time he sat there, rubbing his hand, then picked up the newspaper from the seat next to him and began to look through the job listings. There were no auto manufacturing jobs left in town, now that the plant was shutting down. No prospects for anything he could do, so far as he could tell. The only things left were menial service jobs for younger people, and -

  His eyes stopped as he saw an entry that might work, at least temporarily. The ad was from the local school district:

  BUS DRIVERS NEEDED.

  *****

  The school bus was out on Highway 10, almost to the bridge, when Carl saw it. It was like a shimmering hole in the air, and it spread out before him without warning, covering the road. Before he could slam the brakes the front of the bus crossed the threshold, and he was the first one across.

  Carl gripped the steering wheel as tight as he could as something exploded in his mind. He saw an infinity of space stretched out in front of him. The bridge was nowhere to be seen. Instead the bus sailed through strange places he had never known.

  He saw roads stretching out in front of them, in time and space.

  *****

  When he got home his wife was waiting for him.

  She was sitting at the kitchen table, a stack of mail in front of her. She had clearly been crying, alone there in the illumination of the tiny light from over the sink. Carl flicked on the main light switch, but nothing happened.

  "Light bulbs," she said, her voice tremulous. "I wanted to buy light bulbs."

  "Ellen..." He sat across the corner of the table from her, set the newspaper down and tried to take her hands in his, but she recoiled.

  "What is this? She picked up the letters and slapped them down in front of him. "I went to buy light bulbs, thought I would cash a check and buy groceries, but they wouldn't cash it. I came home and opened the mail, and saw this..."

  He didn't have to look at it to know what it was. Overdue bills, bounced checks, the result of being out of work and the money running out.

  Carl felt warm tears on his cheeks. "I'm sorry, I just...I couldn't tell you. I tried..."

  "I yelled at that woman, Carl...the woman at the bank."

  "I'm so sorry."

  "I screamed at her," she said. "I called her a liar, I called her...names..."

  Carl took her hands in his, this time not letting go. He lowered his face to her hands and clasped them to his forehead.

  "I'm sorry," he said again. "I'm sorry."

  "Is it gambling?" she asked. "Did you lose the money gambling?"

  Carl laughed in spite of himself. "No, no not that." He leaned back, but kept hold of her hands.

  "Then what?"

  "They laid me off. They're closing the plant, laying everyone off in shifts. I got the first shift."

  "Oh my God..."

  "I'm going to find a new job. I am. I've been looking, I have some prospects."

  She nodded. She seemed relieved just to know he hadn't gambled away their money. "You find a job. And no more lies Carl. No more."

  He shook his head slowly. "No more lies. Never"

  "Never again," he said. "I swear."

  *****

  They reached the lab door, and Carl reached in his pocket.

  "Damn," he said. "My keys! They must have fallen out at some point."

  Simon shoved him aside and reached out with the invisible hand created by his mind. The door bucked, but didn't break open.

  "These doors are fairly well reinforced." Carl said. "But you should be able to get through eventually. Heather, while he's doing that, run to my office and get my notebooks."

  "Where is it?" she asked.

  "Down that hall," he pointed, "two lefts, then two rights, the door isn't locked. The notebooks are right in the middle of my desk."

  "Okay," she said, and started to run.

  "Wait," Simon said. "I'm going with you!"

  She rolled her eyes, "I'll be fine! You open the door! I'll be back in a sec."

  Carl saw a very strong possibility Simon might follow her too soon, so he added, "All the guards have probably been pulled from that area already, and even if they are it's doubtful they can stop her. She single-handedly got your friends onto the base."

  "Hey!" Brandon interjected.

  Simon slowly nodded, "Okay...but be careful!"

  Heather gave him a peck on the cheek. "Don't worry!" She ran down the hall and turned out of sight.

  Carl breathed a mental sigh of relief. She had quite a surprise waiting for her, one he had personally arranged. Four to go, he thought.

  Simon turned his attention back to the door and began battering it with the invisible hand.

  *****

  Carl's mind was expanding, his senses reaching down each road to the worlds beyond. He knew where each one led, could see the strange futures that waited for all of them should they continue down each path.

  He swerved to the left as a road almost took them into a land of apelike men with wooden towers. He swerved right to avoid a world where alien sky-ships invaded Earth.

  With each turn, his mind revealed to him a new future, a new road.

  Carl drove into the night, desperately trying to find the road home.

  *****

  Simon had been hammering at the door for a good bit when Kevin put a hand on his shoulder.

  "It's not working," Kevin said. "Let me try something."

  Simon growled, frustrated, but backed off.

  Kevin stood in front of the door, and placed his hands on it. He concentrated.

  "His name is Kevin Lloyd," Brandon said, "but in the Munich circus he was known as..."

  Kevin vanished.

  There was a click and the sound of bars moving from the other side of the door, and it opened, to reveal Kevin on the other side.

  "Don't say it," Kevin cautioned Brandon.

  "X-Men, dude. X-Men," Brandon said with a smirk.

  Kevin rolled his eyes.

  Carl ignored the two of them and stepped into the lab. It was quite a large space, with several workstations, and he went directly toward one of the larger tables.

  "Heather's been gone a long time," Simon said.

  Carl quickly ran through several timelines, and concluded he could not let Simon leave yet. "Simon, I need your help over here," he said.

  There was a tarp over the massive object he had approached. Simon reached out with the invisible hand and removed it, revealing what appeared to be the satellite he had described.

  "Holy crap," Brandon said. "It's huge!"

  It was indeed large, the size of a pickup truck. The "table" on which it rested was actually a sort of work platform with railings around the side, and stairs at the corners. The satellite itself was all gold and silver metal, with a huge dish and several antennae and other structures.

  "You were telling the truth," Kevin said, with a breath of relief. He turned to Zachary, who was still standing near the door. "He was telling the truth."

  Zachary looked doubtful, but was silent.

  "Dude, I can't carry this thing!" Brandon held his hands to his head. "There's no way!"

  "Actually, I believe you can," Carl said. He had analyzed Brandon's abilities rather easily, as he had all the others, but no reason to tell him that. "You mentioned that you weren't harmed while striking objects in flight?"

  "True," Brandon said, thinking of the gaping hole he had left in the shopping mall.

  "I believe you're expressing a type of quantum field around yourself, a field that changes the laws of physics in your immediate area. Your own inertia and other physical properties aren't relevant to your motion."

  "You lost me, Doc."

  Carl thought. "Warp speed," he said finally.

  "Duuuuuuuude...." Brandon's eyes widened.

  "The bottom line is, I don't think the size of the object or its mass will matter. You should be able to propel it along with you regardless."

  Brandon reached out a hand to caress the metal. "Judge me by my size do you?"
he asked in a high-pitched voice.

  "Simon," Carl said, again trying to keep the ape-like boy from running off, "Hit that red button on the wall. It opens the loading dock door."

  Simon didn't bother with the invisible hand, just scrambled over to the button and reached up to press it. The huge metal door retracted upward along tracks in the ceiling, like a garage door.

  "I'll be tracking you," he said to Brandon. "When you reach the correct altitude, this panel will light up." He indicated a bank of lights on one side of the satellite.

  "Okay," Brandon said, rubbing his face. "Okay, let me think, here."

  Carl went to a cabinet, retrieving an oxygen tank and mask. "We used these when inspecting the wreckage of the school bus in the river."

  Kevin balked. "That is not going to help him in space."

  "No no," Carl said, "His field won't expose him to space, it's only to give him a source of air. He still needs to breathe."

  Brandon took the tank and slipped the mask on.

  Kevin shook his head. "Brandon, this is crazy! This is a theory; this whole field thing is a theory. You could die up there. You don't have to do this."

  Brandon considered.

  Carl collated a psychological profile of Brandon and examined several dozen possible alternatives to what he might say, finally locking into one.

  "Your friend is right. It might be too risky. This isn't a comic book, and you're not a super-hero, after all..." He let a note of disappointment linger in his voice.

  Something ignited in Brandon's eyes.

  "THE HELL I'M NOT."

  He grasped the sides of the satellite, and thrust forward. There was a whoosh of air, as if a wave were building up behind him and spreading out in front of the machine. The satellite blasted forward, Brandon clinging to its side, and streaked through the open loading door. Once clear of the building, he turned and zoomed into the sky, disappearing from view.

  Carl turned to the nearby equipment and activated it, pretending to monitor Brandon's progress.

  Three to go, he thought.

  *****

  "Honey?" He called as he closed the front door behind him. He was quite excited to see her, and let her know the good news.

  The house was dark, and quiet. He walked through the living room to the kitchen, then down the hall to the bedroom.

  "I got the job!" he said. "It's not the best job, but it's something."

  No one in the bedroom.

  "Ellen?" he called toward the bathroom door. "Are you in there?"

  He opened the door. "I'll be driving the..."

  The bathroom was empty.

  "ELLEN?" he called.

  As he turned back toward the empty bedroom, his eyes fell upon the note.

  It rested on the nightstand, waiting for him.

  *****

  On he drove, and with each world his mind expanded further, grasping not only the twists of time and space but also the technologies of every society, the history of every fate of mankind.

  The secrets of the universe poured themselves into Carl's brain, and with each new expansion his mind became more adroit at directing him through the rift. He applied just the right nudge to the brakes to avoid a world where an intelligent yellow light energy waited to infuse any biological being. His grip on the wheel kept them from straying too far into a world where thought was as easy to hear as speech.

  Carl could see every road in front of them. He knew every possible future.

  *****

  "Heather's been gone a long time!" Simon said. "I'm going to see if she's okay!"

  Enough time had passed to ensure Heather's capture. Carl decided it was time to let the guards make quick work of Simon.

  "Go ahead, we'll be fine here. Two lefts, two rights."

  Simon ran from the room on all fours and bolted down the hall after her.

  "We'll be fine here?" Kevin asked. "Those guards could be in here any minute."

  "Don't worry," Carl said. "I have a plan."

  Two to go, he thought.

  *****

  As he eased the school bus up to the curve, Carl considered, as he did every day, leaving the door shut. Watching the spoiled little shits bang on the door and whine about not being able to get in somehow seemed so satisfying. Then, of course, the cherry on top: pulling away and driving off, leaving them all to stand on the curb in disbelief. Carl chuckled to himself at the thought.

  But of course, he couldn't do it. He reached over and pulled the lever and waited for the first of them to board.

  The blind kid with his seeing-eye dog was there at the curb as the door opened. Carl waited for him to board.

  What is he waiting for?

  "Go ahead," said a black kid next to him. "You first."

  "After you," the blind kid said. The black kid looked puzzled, but boarded the bus with a skinny white kid in tow.

  Even the blind kid is an idiot, Carl thought. He had seen the other two before, always going on about some stupid comic book or other. Future of our nation, Jesus, he thought.

  When his dog pulled him forward, the blind kid boarded the bus and sat directly behind Carl in the first seat on the left side of the aisle.

  Next was a small, sullen girl with spiky blue hair. Blue hair! That wouldn't have been tolerated in Carl's day. But these days, parents didn't pay any attention to what their stupid kids were doing. This girl looks like one of those cutters you read about, he thought. Probably a pot smoker.

  Next came a brunette holding hands with her boyfriend, a tall Asian kid. Carl tried not to be racist, but in his day bi-racial couples weren't common, and he still hadn't gotten used to seeing it. The girl was all smiles and sweetness, though, and seemed thoroughly absorbed by her boyfriend. She waited to see where he sat, and cuddled up next to him.

  The last kid, a blond boy, didn't seem sure what to do. Carl was puzzled. He recognized most of these little turds, even the slutty girl who had only recently started riding the bus, but he didn't recognize this one. The blond kid climbed up the steps and boarded the bus. He sat down next to the blind kid and his dog.

  "His name's Max," said the blind kid. "Sounds like he likes you. I'm Tyler,"

  "Hey!" Carl turned around and grabbed the blond kid by the shirt. "I don't know you. Are you supposed to be on this bus?

  The boy said nothing.

  "ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO BE HERE?" Carl repeated angrily.

  "He's cool," the blind kid said. "This is a friend of mine."

  Carl shook his head. He stared into the blond kids eyes, and the kid just looked back at him like didn't even understand what he was being asked. Finally, Carl threw up his hands. "Whatever, I don't get paid enough to deal with it."

  The last girl to step on elicited a verbal sigh from Carl. Long hair, short skirt, thought nothing of showing off her skin. What a tramp, he thought.

  She heard the sound he made and cast a scathing look at him. "There a problem, Otto?"

  "My name isn't -"

  "Yeah! Your name's REAL important. What say you stick to driving the bus and leave the commentary to the professionals, 'kay? Kay."

  "Take a seat, please," he said. This girl was everything Carl hated about kids today, all wrapped up in one glamorous package.

  "Ugh." She considered the bus seats as if she was looking at something she had scraped off of her shoes. Finally she placed herself in the exact center of one seat, as if to keep anyone from sitting near her.

  Spoiled, self-absorbed, ridiculous, the lot of them. The world would be a better place if he just drove the bus- but he stopped the thought. No point thinking about it. He needed this job to survive, and hopefully someday get a better job and convince his wife to come back to him. Better to focus on good things. He closed his eyes for a moment and thought of the game, where attack after attack came out of the woodwork and he handled them all. The path to victory wound ahead through the dark trees.

  Finally, Carl opened his eyes and shut the door. He pulled the school bus away from the
curb.

  *****

  Finally he saw it: one road ahead led to the bridge!

  The other side of the anomaly they had entered was closing fast, though. Carl gunned the gas, sending the bus hurtling for the bridge.

  Carl saw the future in front of him clear as day. There was no way he could stop the bus on the other side of the anomaly. It was sure to crash into the river.

  He reached over and pulled the lever, opening the doors.

  As the bus breached the far side of the anomaly and returned to the world he knew, Carl hurled himself through the doors.

  *****

  Carl rolled to a stop right at the railing of the bridge. He covered his head with his hands as the school bus crashed through the railing and plunged into the air, finally coming down into the river. Carl stood and watched it sink, hearing the screams of the kids inside.

  For several moments, he was frozen in place as his mind cycled through a newly found world of thought and calculation. He knew the volume of the bus and the speed at which it would sink. He knew how long it would take for water to displace the air. He knew the temperature of the water and how it would affect the kids' bodies. He could calculate how long it would take them to drown.

  "What's happening?" He cried, raising his hands to his head.

  He knew the exact day and time by the position of the stars and moon. He knew how fast the Earth was rotating beneath his feet. He looked at his hands, and knew the chemical composition of his skin. He could calculate his heart rate, quite elevated at present.

  But there was still more: as Carl looked down at the bus in the water, he could see all of the paths in front of him, resulting from all the possible actions he might take. He could calculate the outcome of everything he might do nearly instantly. He could run through hundreds of scenarios in seconds.

  And right now, every single scenario ended in disaster.