For a long time he’d had a hard time accepting that time might actually move on. Although the message he had received after the death of Hardy had very clearly linked the existence of the Skippers to the skips themselves, it was far less clear about how removing them from the timeline would affect that phenomenon. He tried not to let the notion that some catastrophe might instead befall the word nag at him. That was something he had been happy to espouse to Hardy, but, it did him no good to dwell on it now. Coupling the message he’d received with the fact that the Skippers, alone of all people on earth, could be removed permanently, and it seemed logical that their, and possibly his own, continued existence stood in the way of the rest of the world continuing.
He was still not sure how he felt about Hardy. Although it seemed the man was probably right about what was required, Lovelle certainly wasn’t sure enough of the outcome to take it upon himself to kill all those innocent Skippers. And Hardy had admitted that the initial post removal messages had been far less clear. And without that certainty, how could he have taken it upon himself to offer up all those sacrifices? Lovelle thought that, had he been in Hardy’s place, certain or not, he would have considered it too high a price. True, he was a killer. But he was a killer with a very strong sense of justice. The Skippers were not the human debris he dispatched year after year. They were mostly good, innocent people. Lovelle didn’t believe some greater societal good could rightfully demand their lives. But that question was moot, Hardy had decided all that, and now Lovelle was left with the fait accompli. He couldn’t undo what was done. He could not bring them back. He could only make the best of the situation, as he had always done.
He drifted off to sleep just a short while before the deadline. He dreamt of his son Kyle. Not a tragic dream, but, a pleasant one. While he could no longer consciously picture the boy’s face, in his dreams it was still there. They played and played for what seemed like hours.
Life 11
Chapter 22
“Awe crap.” Lovelle muttered when he awoke in his parent’s house. Sixteen yet again he had to face facts. He too had to die for the world to move on. The question was only how, and when? Well, not really. He also had to decide how he wanted to live his remaining years. He had thought about this eventuality plenty. But, he had known that he could really only make the decision if he were actually face to face with that reality. He couldn’t possibly have known how this was going to feel during that last life, when his heart was full of hope and the future was full of promise. Instead, he now felt an utter sense of despair envelope him. In a matter of hours he had traveled from anxious anticipation to utter exhaustion at the thought of doing it all again.
If the only concern was his own life, he might have ended it that very morning. His father’s gun was just down the hall. But Lovelle was driven, as always, by his missions. He needed to finally make them permanent. Not just because it was the right thing, but, because it seemed the only way to give his long life any real meaning. He could not stomach the idea that the only purpose of the skips would be the extermination of the Skippers. He would not allow 165 lives to be sacrificed for no other purpose than to have time continue on its old course. His life and theirs would at least be traded for those who his interventions could spare. He might be tired. And he might be destined to die without seeing 2004. But he had jobs to do, and he would damned well do them.
***
Lovelle’s routine for the first years of this life was much like it had been before meeting Maria. He had completed high school, mostly as a loner, then broke the news to his parents that he would forgo college in favor of pursuing his career as a photographer. Sparing his parents from the turbulent life that had marked the previous skip was at least one benefit. He re-established himself in Vegas with his dual identities and set to work. Only this time his pace was more like that of his last life. He had murderers to murder and there was no time like the present. There was no 7/17 club to track him. No Hardy to hunt him, and no prospect for a life to be lived afterwards to concern himself with. He effectively became what he had feared in those pre-Maria years, a heartless killing machine.
Lovelle kept no friends. He never even bothered to sell a few pictures to maintain his cover. He stopped work only long enough to host his parents for a few visits. His pace was frantic. The authorities were beside themselves trying to find this ruthless killer. A sniper who crisscrossed the country in no discernable pattern, and felled victims with no discernable connection. Despite starting nearly two years later than in the last life, Lovelle was entirely through his list by the time he was ready to go to Sudan. He hadn’t initially planned it that way, but, he had made sure to work them all in once he had realized that it would be possible.
As always, Lovelle traveled to Eritrea and set up in the city of Asmara. Then, once he had acquired the tools of his trade, he did something he had been failing to do for this entire life. He stopped to enjoy his surroundings. Over time he had grown fond of the Italian inspired city, and he realized that he would never see it again. So he took it in. He did the grand tour of all the places that had given him pleasure even as he prepared for his grave missions. And he felt a little more like a person than a mechanism for once.
When the time came, Lovelle left behind that feeling of normalcy and made his way to the familiar parapet overlooking Bin Laden’s compound. Walking up to the building he had a flashback to 18 years earlier. He could almost feel the sting of the bullet piercing his shoulder. And Lovelle could see Hardy’s expression as he clutched at his neck, realizing that he had failed after all those lives and all those murders. Lovelle wondered what thoughts went through the man’s mind at the last. Did he still believe he had done the right thing despite coming up just short of his goal to be the last? Or did he suddenly decide it had all been for nothing because he wouldn’t be around to see the outcome? And how would he have felt if he had managed to kill Lovelle only to discover that it hadn’t worked? That he would have to sacrifice himself as well.
Lovelle wondered himself if he wouldn’t have been better off if Hardy had won. The prize for winning had turned out to be a booby prize. Hopes dashed, Lovelle had become the heartless killer he had long feared. And now, with his work at an end, he faced something that had always been antithetical to him. Suicide.
Suicide had always seemed such a waste. Whatever your belief system, he could never see how anyone could see life as anything but a precious gift. To throw it away was the ultimate in ignorance or insanity. For what? Something in an afterlife? He found it hard to believe that any divine creator would give life with the expectation that it should be squandered just to hasten the beginning of the next phase.
And he was not big on sacrifice either. He knew he could never have made the choice that Hardy had. He might choose to give his own life for the cause, but, he wouldn’t have imposed that decision on anyone else. He wasn’t even sure he would take his own life for the greater good of the world. However, he would do it for the people he loved.
***
Lovelle took his six shots and watched the terrorists fall. Then, instead of stashing his gear and heading for his escape, he pulled his Colt 1911 from its holster. He jammed the barrel hard into flesh under his chin. With all of his missions complete, he had decided to make his final assassination of Bin Laden his coup des gras. Assuming someone would bother to tell the world who had killed the terrorist, Lovelle thought that would be the best way for his parents to learn of his death. He doubted anyone would ever connect him to all of his work in the States, so maybe his parents could experience his death as something other than a useless loss.
He was hesitating, and he really didn’t know why. He had so thought he was ready for this. He had grown so tired and disillusioned. Anything he was living for was now over. The world was going to move on, and it was going to be without him, regardless of when he decided to take his leave. He had convinced himself that sticking around past his own usefulness was like rubbing salt in his wounds
. And any interaction with anyone would be just an unjustified interference in their lives. How could he justify becoming a part of someone’s life knowing that he would have to leave them. But right now, the thought of leaving the world had lost any appeal. Maybe more than a little because he was simply afraid to die. But why? Because he simply wasn’t ready to lose hope.
Tears welled up in his eyes as he pushed the gun harder into his neck, trying to still his hand. He attempted to will his finger to do its job. Then his arm fell slack. “Oh, hell, eleven years ain’t so bad.”
He stuffed his gear into his pack and made his getaway.
***
“Can you help me? I’m looking for a CD that I can’t find out there in the racks.” Lovelle looked again into the eyes of beloved Katie. In the seven years since he had last laid eyes on her she had become 11 years younger. It was a wonderful phenomenon that he would never enjoy again. Of course, he would have loved to see her finally age beyond her thirties. But, just because that was not to be, he had decided he would not deprive himself of her love and affection for one more day. He would stay with her right up until the very last night. He would give her all the love he had to give, and would hope that she would be richer for having been with him, even if just for a while.
One thing he was sure of was that if she were the one who’s days were numbered, he wouldn’t hesitate to spend every bit of them with her. To him, her love was worth the price of experiencing her loss, and he hoped that his would be worth it to her as well. It wasn’t something he could talk to her about. He would never know how she felt at the end of it all. He could only go on faith that their love was as precious to her as it had been to him.
Lovelle could have let himself wallow in regret for time lost. He now knew he could have been with this woman for so much more time. But, he also knew that he could never know how that would have worked out. He was a man going through changes and new experiences, and she was a woman stuck in a loop of time. And although she was his first, and greatest love, he was not at all sure that fact alone could have sustained him had he spent over a hundred years watching her revert back to childhood again and again. And Lovelle wouldn’t allow himself to feel regret for the choices he had made over his numerous lives. Because of their unique bond, his love with and for Maria was equally important in his life. To regret that would be unfair to her. Lovelle had truly loved all of his wives. Each had come to him in their own way, and he had never entered into any of those marriages under anything but the truest of hearts.
***
Having never really bothered to establish himself as a real photojournalist this time, Lovelle didn’t bother now. He wanted as normal a life as possible for the final years. So, for the first time in forever, he went back to work in sales. He wasn’t as good at it as he had been. As much as he tried, he could not relate to people in the same way he once had. But success was far less important than it had been when he last worked a normal day job. He had already amassed a small fortune in gambling winnings. With his frantic pace, he had needed so much less than in past lives. Normal living expenses, the cost of trying to maintain two identities, the price of equipment and travel. These were all shaved. So when he finished, his wealth was largely intact. This, he invested wisely and was free from financial worry.
He and Katie stayed in Detroit again and he became close with his parents once more. With nothing hanging over him, no missions to squeeze in, and no baggage from a mysterious disappearance to carry around, he bonded with them like never before. Not even in his life before the skips had they been so close. He simply valued them more than before. No longer hanging onto any delusions about growing old together, or having an automatic reset to erase his foibles, he tried harder to be a good husband and a good son. They enjoyed wonderful holidays together, took great vacations, and lived a virtually perfect life.
On the morning of the next skip, Lovelle made plans to visit a distant customer. Before she rose for the day, he kissed his wife goodbye one last time. A moment before kneeling at her bedside, he wiped tears from his cheek so that she wouldn’t feel the moisture. He embraced her and kissed her and told her he loved her, and she, half asleep, embraced him back and told him to be careful, which she always did. She had been known to call him shortly after leaving to tell him, if she thought she had forgotten. She could not drift back to sleep if she thought she had not fulfilled her ritual.
Lovelle started his car and pulled out into the road, sobbing uncontrollably. He could barely manage to get out onto the freeway, unable to see clearly through his own tears. A half hour later, on a rural stretch of I-94, still in full darkness, Lovelle plowed his car at full speed into a light post. This, unfortunately, did not kill him immediately.
Faced with the very real possibility that he would survive the collision and be forced to go through another time skip, Lovelle had prepared. At his fingertips was the very same device he had used to ensure the ‘accidental’ deaths of his victims back when he still wanted to keep the world from knowing that there was a vigilante among them. He feebly managed to press the button and the engine exploded in a fireball, putting an end to his life, and hopefully leaving no trace for his wife and mother to know that it had been anything but a tragic accident that had tore their loved one away from them.
Chapter 23
October 28, 2003
Lovelle was awoken by the soft voice and gentle touch of Katie. “Hey, sleepy head. You better get up.”
His eyes opened and began to focus on his wife. Utter disbelief was all he could feel. Then he heard the sweetest sound in the world.
“Daddy!” his son Kyle shouted, running into their room and scrambling up onto the bed. “You’re awake.” His son said and kissed him on the nose. The usually stoic Lovelle was overcome by emotion.
“Oh my God!” he said as tears bust from his eyes. He kissed the boy several times and pulled him in for a bear hug. His thoughts raced. Was this real, or was his mind going through the final throws of death? Was this his life passing before his eyes? Everything was sharp and focused yet utterly surreal. He felt just the way he had the first time he had found himself back in 1985, confused about which reality was real. Could all that he had gone through have been an elaborate dream? He didn’t believe it could. Yet was that any less plausible than time itself skipping like a scratched vinyl record?
“What’s that all about?” Katie wondered aloud.
“I just had the most vivid dream, where he was gone.” He lied, then wondered if maybe it wasn’t a lie at all. Could his mind have invented such an elaborate 180 year history in the course of a single night?
“Gone?”
“Yeah. Erased from existence. “
“That sounds weird.”
“Very.” He answered. “I’m just glad it’s over.” He said and gave Kyle another squeeze.
***
It wasn't difficult for Lovelle to determine that both his current situation and the time skips were real. His life had resumed exactly where it had left off as if no time had passed, only, he couldn’t remember half the names of his coworkers and clients. And he was forced to relearn most of his job. He elicited more than a few curious looks as he was relegated to carrying around a catalog and a price guide to remember things that, in his co-workers minds, he had known by heart just a week earlier. He couldn’t imagine that an elaborate dream or hallucination would not only place 180 years of vivid memories in his head, but, also wipe out his current ones at the same time. By way of another test, he took his old 30.06 rifle to the range. Although this was not nearly the quality of rifle he had been using life after life as a sniper, it was still clear that he was every bit the marksman that he expected himself to be. He had been no more than a fair shot before he went into the army in his third life.
But, what cemented it was the name Cedric Baker in the online yellow pages. It was amazing what you could find out about people on the internet. There Baker was, listed in Portland, along with a birthdate in case he
needed more persuasion. And he did. He looked up the other members of the 7/17 club, and most of them were right there in the cities where he expected them to be. There was no way he could have had that information to build an extensive fantasy around.
And he realized that if they were all real, and alive, then so was Maria. Would she remain in Cuba? While she despised Castro and the communist government, she had been happily married before the skip. Only the strain of rehashing all the same problems and arguments over and over had driven a wedge between her and her family. Being with people who had no idea what she was going through had ruined their relationships. Would she be inclined to stay, now that her life with them would finally be new? She would of course realize that Lovelle was back with his own family. He thought that she would respect that. But, he wasn’t at all sure what it was like for her. She may have lost no time at all between her murder and waking up where she had left off. For her it may well be barely a week since they had last been together. And she would have no idea that he had gone through another 40 plus years, with his descent into a cold blooded killing spree and his subsequent return to Katie. She might still believe that they should be together, whatever the consequences.
At the same time, she might be struggling to decide if the skips had been real at all. She would not be able to simply check the internet, and she knew of no other Skipper in Cuba. She might be compelled to leave her family again if for no other reason than to verify the truth of her memories. And for her, it would not be a simple trip from which she could return. If she left her family now, she would not be able to return to them. He felt so sorry for her. He imagined it might well test one’s sanity to be in such a predicament. But, he could spare her from that trauma. It would be a risk, but, what else was he to do with his unique talents now.
Time Skip (Book 2): The Time Skippers Page 22
