The Secret Truth of Time: A Time Travel / Supernatural Suspense Novel

by C. M. Murphy

  "Go within," Tita Win Win said to her.

  Not knowing entirely what that meant or how to do it, Alma closed her eyes and focused on the energy coming from the book. Her hands warmed. The falling sensation engulfed her. She tried to open her eyes, but found herself surrounded by darkness. This time there was no purple. Alma found that change reassuring.

  Pinpricks of light filled her eyes, and then Alma felt her body again. Except it wasn't the body of Alma Davis; she was someone else. Her eyes opened, and the sun shined through the sliding glass door that led to the pool.

  "Not quite done yet," she heard a voice in her head say, and she closed her eyes.

  Alma remembered that she was visiting this person, but every time she asked herself mentally, "Who am I?" She got back odd answers. "I'm the one housed in the body?"

  "What's your name?" Alma asked.

  "Names do not define me," the inner voice of whoever's body this was replied.

  Frustrated Alma asked, "Is this Irene Polk or what?"

  Her eyes shot open. And Alma comprehended the thought, "That was the oddest questioning meditation I've ever felt. Did God, or rather the inner part of me that is of God, reach out to me?"

  Alma, although still irritated, was relieved that she indeed met Irene Polk.

  I'm Alma Davis. My mother told me to get in touch with you. I'm in danger.

  Irene Polk's mind didn't comprehend Alma's plea for help.

  Alma decided to abandon the idea that she could ask Irene directly for any advice and began to rummage through the woman's memory. She was the wife of a very rich man in the agriculture industry. She was a recovering alcoholic and turned to spirituality and mysticism to help her with her disease. Her mind filled with axioms and spiritual truths, but the woman felt as if something was blocking her.

  The doorbell rang, and Irene went to answer it. She was expecting someone—one of her most gifted students.

  "Hello, James, good to see you," she said. She'd found him.

  "Are you alone?" he asked and stared directly into Irene's eyes. Alma gasped. It was as if the man could see her.

  "Yes, I told you. George is out of town on business."

  The man gave her a sinister grin.

  "I didn't mean it like that," he said, and within seconds he grabbed Irene and wrapped his arm around her neck.

  The woman tried to shout, but all she could do was gasp for air. One thought ran through her head: Betrayal. That's the rule that'll bring me back. Alma gasped. She was surrounded by violet. Tita Win Win's voice called her name.

  "Oh, no you don't," he said into her ear. "I've been waiting for you for years. And now you've come to me."

  James put his finger over Irene's third eye just like Tita Win!

  Her vision darkened. The space between her eyes burned. A painful draining sensation yanked through her body. It was as if the air and all of her insides were being sucked out of her. The urge to yell and fight back gripped her entire being, but he'd paralyzed her.

  "Let go!" Tita Win Win's voice echoed in her mind. "Alma! Let go!"

  In her panic, Alma didn't understand what Win meant. Death neared Irene's body, and it threatened to drag Alma with it.

  Win's voice faded. Alma struggled to retain her thoughts. Pure fear fueled her attempt to fight off death. The pain wrenched through her. Even the muscles in her eyes shredded under the strain. Her suffering continued to mount without even the slight relief a scream would bring.

  Terror consumed Alma's thoughts. The violet darkness threatened to overtake her. Afraid of the pain, Alma forced herself to stop fighting and surrender.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Haniel jumped at the sound of footsteps outside his hotel room. A child's laugh eased his frayed nerves. More footsteps followed along with the voices of a man and a woman. It was a family, not his father, walking down the hall. Relief washed over him.

  He told himself his father couldn't know where he was. He'd chosen a random hotel and paid cash after emptying out the shoe repair shop's business account at a bank over forty miles from here.

  Haniel focused on his breath and tried to calm himself. There was no way he could take part in Alma's death. He loved her, and he'd have his entire life to win her over. He just needed to find a way to mask his feelings long enough to get close to his dad to take his life. If he didn't, Haniel knew his father would pick up on his plan and kill Haniel just like he'd killed his mother.

  Doug stared at the bruises on Alma's body. They'd appeared after the swelling went down. He told himself they looked smaller than before, and her temperature had gone down, too. The kitchen timer dinged. He removed the ice pack, set the timer for ten minutes, and then placed the pack on the other side of her forehead. He didn't want her to have frostbite when she awakened.

  Win Win had stayed at Alma's side for almost a full day with no sleep healing her. Alma's body and face had ballooned so much with fever and swelling, she looked unrecognizable—a combination of being pummeled in a heavyweight bout and stung by thousands of bees. Win's face and hands became swollen as the hours crept by. Taylor finally convinced her to stop when Alma's breathing became more regular and most of the swelling came down.

  Doug took the first shift after Win. Taylor tended to Alma after that, and Doug insisted on taking this shift even though Leo had volunteered. Doug had spied Leo's longing gazes at Alma, and he didn't like it. Between Haniel and now Leo, it seemed as if every man who spent any time with Alma fell in love with her. Thank goodness Taylor's sights were fixed on Win Win.

  The alarm went off again, and Doug repeated the same process. Alma looked more like herself now. Some of the bruises had turned from black and blue to yellow and black. He hoped that was an improvement. Doug's mind reeled at the idea that the vampire managed to attack Alma's actual body when he wasn't even in the room. The idea bordered on impossible, except that Doug had witnessed it.

  She'd closed her eyes, mumbled something, and then she went silent. Doug assumed she'd successfully landed somewhere in time. Ten minutes later, she gasped for air, her muscles tightened, and her body seemed to deflate.

  He closed his eyes and tried to erase the image of Alma's face and body morphing into a skeleton before his eyes.

  "Doug," Taylor said, startling Doug.

  The young Witness turned to his boss, grateful for the distraction.

  "When she wakes up, you need to tell her who you are," Taylor said.

  Doug paused and looked down at Alma. Taylor patted him on the shoulder and said, "Take it from a man who made the same mistake."

  Doug nodded and resolved to tell her. That's if she ever woke up.

  A sea of whiteness and light surrounded Alma. She couldn't feel her body, but unlike before it wasn't unpleasant. She enjoyed being untethered to the shell that had caused her so much pain. The floaty sensation of her being brought her peace.

  "Am I dead?" Alma thought.

  "No. I don't think so," came the answer in the form of her own thoughts.

  Alma smiled at the at the conversation in her mind, and that instant uncovered the truth about smiling. Even though it registered as an expression on her face, the specific flavor of joy a smile brought wasn't contingent on her body.

  "Cool," Alma thought and then wondered. "If I'm not dead, where am I?"

  There was a pause, and then an answer came. "I think you're somewhere outside the illusion of time, but that's just a theory."

  "Like a limbo?"

  "Sort of, but not in a bad way."

  Alma shared a laugh with what she assumed was herself. When her other voice didn't contradict that assumption, she figured she'd go with it.

  It didn't occur to Alma to worry about where her actual body was or how much time was passing for it. Being outside of time had its perks. She didn't feel rushed, bored, or worried. It would be erroneous to say she had all the time in the world, but the effect was the same.

  It occurred to Alma that this would be a good opportunity for reflec
tion. She'd seen so much and understood so little.

  Haniel sped northward on I-15 bound for Las Vegas. His mind fixated on one thing—a gun. Shooting his father gave him the best odds of victory. Any other method would either take too long or require Haniel to get too close to his dad. Proximity to his father would not only allow the man to pick up on Haniel's murderous plan, it increased the likelihood Haniel would be the one who would end up shriveled into dust.

  A man at a pawnshop in Victorville had told Haniel he knew of a gun store owner in Vegas that would sell him a gun without any paperwork. He'd paid the pawnshop owner $100 just to get the phone number and secret code word. All of this could be a scam, but Haniel figured Vegas would be an easier place to buy a gun anyhow.

  His father had to suspect Haniel now that he'd avoided going home for days. He hadn't even told his father about his breakfast date. For all Haniel knew, his father could be trying to track him now. Even though the man's psychic powers weren't all that reliable, James might find him in Vegas. Vegas was very distinctive. Haniel hoped he'd get the gun before his father figured out what was going on. Or before his dad went after Alma himself.

  Nobody would even miss James Hanker. He hadn't had a driver's license in forty years, and by all public records, the man was an impossible 135 years old. They'd likely assumed James Hanker as dead ages ago. James had gone "off the grid" long before Haniel was born.

  Everything was in Haniel's name after James killed Haniel's mom. Her will left everything to her son. Even the shoe repair shop was his.

  Haniel's gaze turned to the endless miles of desert on the side of the road—the perfect place to bury the body.

  A highway sign indicated a fueling station and food at the next exit. He glanced the gas gauge: almost empty. He'd have to stop even though he was in a hurry. Being stranded on the side of this highway would make him a sitting duck.

  Haniel fueled up the car, then went inside and grabbed some chips and soda. In his peripheral vision, he spotted the pay phone outside. If his father had already figured out what was going on, Haniel needed to know before his father went after Alma. And if his father hadn't figured it out, maybe there was a way he could stop him.

  "Are you looking for something?" the gruff cashier behind the counter asked.

  Haniel realized he was standing in the middle of the store staring outside. "Yes," he said as he put his items on the counter, "I need to pay for these, the gas on pump seven, and I'll need quarters for the pay phone."

  The cashier nodded, bagged up the snacks, and gave him the change. Haniel exited the snack shop. A plan began to form in his mind. He needed to picture Alma. Having spent most of his life in his father's immediate vicinity, Haniel didn't know if the man's empathic ability worked over the telephone. He did know that for short periods of time, he'd been able to fool his father. The trick would be to keep the conversation short.

  He took a deep breath, picked up the phone, and dialed. His father answered on the fourth ring. "Hi Dad, it's me."

  "Where the hell have you been?"

  Haniel hoped that meant that his father hadn’t figured out what he was doing. He saw the sign for the bathroom. "I've gotta be quick. She's in the bathroom right now, but I wanted to check in with you."

  "You're with her! You're with the daughter!"

  His father's genuine-sounding surprise sent waves of relief through Haniel. But he needed to act fast. "I'm taking her to Vegas. But there is something important I need to tell you about the birthday party."

  "Go ahead."

  Haniel wondered if his father was playing him. This was going better than he could've hoped. "Shoot. I think she's coming. Listen, the party isn't for Alma's birthday. It's for her aunt. And it's this weekend."

  "I knew her powers were growing fast," his father said.

  "That's why I haven't left her side. We don't have much time. I'll come by the store Saturday afternoon and bring you to the party," Haniel said, lying about the day of the party. He hung up before his father could ask more questions.

  He exhaled, grabbed his soda and chips, and headed to the car. Opening his soda and taking a big gulp, his brain wavered between relief and anxiety. Could his father have been faking it? Even if he hadn't, could his dad still catch on? Either way, Haniel needed a gun.

  Alma attempted to sift through her mother's memories, but she had a difficult time figuring out where to go. She found herself wishing for a map and then remembered—she wasn't in the real world. Leo's words echoed in her memory. The world wasn't real. It was just a projection from consciousness. Couldn't she just project something from her mind onto this blank canvas of white to help her visualize this time puzzle she was caught in?

  A memory of a museum trip from childhood flashed in Alma's mind. The museum had a giant timeline on the floor with little lines splintering off into different dinosaur eras. She imagined in her mind's eye a timeline of her mother's life.

  When she opened her eyes, she found herself in a giant room with a skylight ceiling—a feature borrowed from the museum in her childhood. The bright shiny white tiles gleamed under her feet. She laughed when she looked down and realized she conjured up ruby red slippers as well. She could see the year of her mother's birth just behind her, November 25, 1948 in the Philippines, and the first twelve years of her life labeled, "The Philippine Era." An interesting detail caught Alma's eyes. Her mother's last name at birth wasn't "Fernandez." It was Belcinia. It changed, along with her birthday, about a year before she and Tita Win came to the United States.

  Alma walked over to that part of the timeline, tapped her foot, and a door whisked up from the floor as if by magic. Alma paused for a deep breath, opened the door, and entered her mother's life.

  The bright sun made Alma squint as she stepped off a dirt road cleared in the forest of thick trees. She could hear the ocean and smell the salt air.

  Alma spotted an eleven-year-old version of her mother seated on the ground outside of her Nipa hut, a small house made of wood with a bamboo thatched roof. Alma could tell that her mother was listening intently at the doorway to the conversation going on inside. Alma walked closer, knowing that her mother couldn't see her. This wasn't technically a trip back in time; it was a trip through her mother's memory, so Alma could only see what her mother could. Alma peeked into the tiny, dark house and saw her grandmother.

  It amazed Alma how strong the family resemblance was. Her grandmother looked so much like Tita Win Win herself, except the sun had darkened her skin, her nose was shorter and flatter at the nostrils, and she was missing a tooth in the front.

  "I need them both to go to America," Grandmother said.

  "And the curse will be lifted, and my sister will be cured?" the woman asked.

  "You've seen she's almost all better now," Grandmother said.

  "When will she be fully recovered?"

  "Your good deed for my daughters seals the fate of your sister. Here is the paperwork you asked," Grandmother said and handed her two pieces of paper. Alma squinted to see them, but her mother must've not seen the papers, so her memory wouldn't reveal what they were.

  "My uncle will get started on the paperwork right away," the woman said as she stood. She turned back. "Thank you."

  "I look forward to the time when I will thank you," Grandmother said.

  The woman smiled and left.

  Bernie ran inside after the woman left.

  "Are you excited to go to America?" Grandmother asked.

  "I want you to come," Bernie said.

  "I'll teach you how to talk to me, and then I will always be with you," Grandmother said.

  Bernie nodded and then turned and looked right at Alma.

  "She's here," Bernie said.

  'Right now?" Grandmother said.

  "No, later," Bernie answered.

  Grandmother nodded. "Okay, then you have to remember all of this very carefully. And do it in English like you learned in school."

  Alma's attention grew more focused. Th
ey knew she was there!

  Grandmother crouched down and looked straight into Bernie's eyes, and Alma found herself sitting in Bernie's place. "Hello, my granddaughter!" the old woman said, her smile wide. A surge of happiness spread through Alma. "Time it is not what you think. It is not real. Like we are not real. You need not let your attachments trap you. Do not be bound by your body or time, and the man who hunts us will never be able to capture you."

  Grandmother stood up, and the room darkened. Alma caught sight of a young child version of Win Win before the memory ended. She was waving goodbye.

  Moments later, Alma found herself on the other side of the door. She tried the handle, but it was shut. She could only assume that in that part of her mother's life, that was all she was meant to see. Alma moved further down the timeline. She felt herself drawn to the latter part of 1973. That part of the timeline expanded as she walked closer. The months of October, November, and December grew even larger. Alma stopped. Another door rose from the floor marked October 17, 1973. Somewhere in the recesses of her mother's erased memories, Alma must've gleaned this day to have something important. Alma opened the door and stepped into her mother's life again.

  The surroundings seemed familiar to Alma. Then she realized she was in the same bathroom where she first set eyes on her mother. She heard Tita Win Win call to her mother. Bernie was getting ready for date. Except this time when her mother left the bathroom, Alma was able to follow her. Her mother rushed to the door of the little house she shared with her sister, excited for her date. When the door opened, Alma gasped.

  "James!" Bernie said.

  The man gave her a funny look for a moment, and the room went black. Alma heard the slam of the door to her mother's memory and found herself back on the timeline. The door in front of her now bolted shut. She banged on it and tried the doorknob without success. Then the door whooshed back into the floor.