Kyle tried to wiggle away, but Sillow had him pinned. “You’ve got it wrong! That’s not why I’m here.”
“Your one of Kendrick’s boys, huh?” Sillow asked. “Well, I don’t need some fuckin’ kid comin’ to my job to remind me to take care of my debts.”
“Let me explain,” Kyle said. “You’ve got it wrong.”
“You tell him, I’m doin’ the best I fuckin’ can. I make ten bucks an hour. Tell him I said that owing him doesn’t give him the right to send nobody to my work.”
“Hold on!” Kyle said. He searched for something he could say to make Sillow back off.
“I see you, or anyone else, here again, they’re gonna get it a lot worse than this,” Sillow said, and then immediately reared back and delivered a hard blow to Kyle’s cheek. For a wiry guy, his father’s punch packed a ton of power. Kyle fell back against the wall stunned. Sillow spit onto the concrete next to Kyle barely missing the new shoe on his right foot. Then, he turned to walk away. “Tell him I’ll come see him as soon as I got his money.”
Kyle couldn’t let another day pass without making some headway. He had to get through to his father. And if Sillow wouldn’t hear him out with a friendly approach, he’d have to try something different.
CHAPTER 12
February 4, 1998
* * *
Later that day
Kyle pressed the sleeve of his coat against his cheek as he walked down Main Street. It had been two years since Kyle had walked through Flemming’s downtown district. Amazingly, all but a few of the businesses he remembered from 2014 were “still” around in 1998. He noticed tiny changes, like Kenny’s hadn’t yet changed the color of its entire exterior from green to maroon, and the underwear on the mannequins in the window of Miss Mabel’s Intimates didn’t look quite as yellowed and sun damaged yet.
Searching his mind for a way to get Sillow to listen to him, he passed the town’s only shooting range, Ready, Aim, Flemming. Pointing a gun at Sillow would probably get him to listen, but it would take him more time than he could spare to get a permit—not to mention that he didn’t have any identification. There was no way, he thought. Unless . . .
About a mile down Main Street, on the opposite side, was Dankert Library. It was one of the few large buildings in Flemming, with four white columns, and a huge green door.
He pulled open the heavy door and stepped inside. Kyle was glad to get out of the brisk afternoon chill, and into the warm library. The lobby was lined with glass display cases, each one dedicated to a theme. One was Black History month, another for romance novels, and several were devoted to artwork from students at Flemming Elementary.
One glass display case hung higher than the others, right above doors leading from the lobby into the main part of the library. Kyle smiled as he walked up to it. He could always trust his memory, but he was never more glad to confirm the local saying, “Flemming never changes,” than he was now.
The artifacts inside the case—from Flemming’s small role in the Revolutionary War—included two matching pistols, each with a wooden handle and an iron shaft, mounted to the back wall of the case. Somewhere in the library, there was a key that would make it possible for him to “borrow” one of the artifacts. Unfortunately, he had no idea where.
Kyle camped in the bathroom adjoining the lobby for twenty minutes, crouched with his feet on a toilet, waiting for the library to close. He waited ten more minutes after someone came in to turn off the bathroom lights, just to be safe, and then went back out into the dark lobby.
He slid a bench across the floor as quietly as he could, placed it underneath the Revolutionary War display case, and stepped up onto it. He fiddled with the door of the case, sliding and prying to see if he could bust the lock. He almost cut his finger when he managed to get it underneath the front panel of the case, but if he pulled any harder, the entire pane of glass might shatter in his face.
He needed something hard to break the glass open. He considered using one of his new shoes, but didn’t think it could do the trick. He climbed down and sat on the bench thinking. Just then, he heard a noise coming from inside the library. He didn’t bother peeking in. Whoever was there, they were supposed to be, and Kyle was not.
He stepped up onto the bench once more, lining his arm up with the glass. He took his shirt off and wrapped it quickly around his elbow. Closing his eyes, Kyle gave the front of the case a huge jab with his elbow. The resulting pop jarred his ears like an explosion. Kyle felt glass shards pepper his neck and face on their way to the floor. The sensation immediately took him back to the bus crash. Hanging upside down, covered with pieces of windshield, watching drops of blood drip from his buddy Joe to the interior roof of the car—that was as powerless as Kyle had ever felt in his life.
Kyle carefully reached into the front of the Revolutionary War display and grabbed one of the pistols. He pulled it out, careful to avoid slicing his arm on the jagged glass still attached to the front panel of the case. The gun was heavier than he would’ve guessed. Not surprisingly, he heard footsteps running toward him from inside the library now.
Kyle hopped down from the bench, threw his shirt on and ran out of the lobby onto Main Street. He quickly turned a corner and crossed the street, shoving the pistol into the back of his new jeans.
When he reached the huge field behind Silverman High School, he sat on the ground and picked the remaining tiny pieces of glass off of his shirt. He took out the pistol and felt it in his hand.
Except for a short rest on the bus, his adrenaline had been pumping ever since Kyle pushed himself through the silk blot in his prison cell. The workday was over, so he’d have to wait for morning now to confront Sillow if he didn’t want to risk going to his apartment and possibly seeing his mother. He laid back in the grass now, worried for the first time that he might’ve already messed up the future in ways he could never predict. Between Ochoa following him, and being killed, and now, his short relationship with Allaire, he’d definitely gone against what Myrna asked of him. The more Kyle thought about Ochoa’s death, the less real it felt. Kyle wondered about the rules of time weaving. Would he come back to a world where Ochoa was alive? If he was successful in stopping the bus crash, and never went to prison, would he even remember Ochoa?
He turned onto his belly in the grass now, using his arms as a pillow, and quickly drifted into sleep.
Kyle opened his eyes to the sight of Allaire’s face four inches from his. Surprised, he sprang up quickly and saw that it was dark out.
“I really could watch you sleep forever,” she said turning toward him. “Sorry if I freaked you out.”
“I was so tired, I didn’t even notice,” Kyle said. “Why didn’t you go back to the city?”
She leaned over and kissed him on the lips, lingering for a moment with her tongue. “Aren’t you glad I didn’t?”
“What have you been doing all day?” he asked. “How’d you find me?”
“Would you believe I spent the whole day at Sam Goody checking out CDs and just happened to bump into you?” she asked.
“No,” he said. He looked a few feet past her and saw a shopping bag. “Did you buy a sleeping bag?”
“It’s going to dip into the thirties tonight,” she said. “Unless you’ve got a hotel reservation I wasn’t aware of.”
Kyle had spent a lot of the money Myrna had given him on clothing. He laid back in the grass and winced when he laid on the gun. “What time is it?” he asked, pulling the pistol out from the back of his pants.
“About 7:30,” she said. “Is the gun for that man? Does that thing even work? When I saw him hit you, I wanted to knock him out. But I was afraid you’d be mad if I interfered . . . Who is he? Are you some kind of badass? Prison clothes, a fight with some stranger . . . It’s okay if you are. It’s kind of sexy.”
“Allaire, what are you doing?” Kyle asked. He wasn’t angry. He was flattered, but the longer she stuck around, the more she complicated things.
No
w, she climbed on top of him. Her bangs fell into her face, so she blew them upwards. “Listen, Mister! When I told you I wasn’t just going to ignore the clear signs, I wasn’t kidding. You and I are here for a reason. This could be the first chapter of our love story. And I don’t care whether you’re a little freaked out, or a little hesitant, or you’re not ready to get on board just yet. That’s fine. But, I’m gonna make sure I’m here once you get over yourself.”
As tempting as it was not to move an inch, Kyle gently moved Allaire off of him. “You’re aware that we barely know each other, right? You don’t know anything about me.”
“So what? We have all of that learning ahead of us. How exciting is that? Everyone’s so concerned about doing things in order,” she said. “Why can’t we start with all the good stuff and hope for the best? I dare you to prove to me that I’m wrong about you, Kyle Cash. I don’t think you can.”
Kyle turned to her and put a hand on her knee. “I don’t think you understand, Allaire . . . ”
“What don’t I understand?”
“You’re . . . gorgeous. No guy in his right mind wouldn’t want to hear these things from you.”
“You know most people think I’m crazy, right? I’m the chaotic one in their orderly world. But, I think most people are chaotically uninteresting. Be interesting with me, Kyle,” she said, hugging him around his neck.
Kyle didn’t know what to say. He’d never met anyone like her, and he hated the thought of saying “goodbye.” What could he do except offer her the one thing he had to give? “I need to tell you something.”
“Anything,” she said.
“Allaire, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I want to take this leap with you. If there was a way, I’d be in . . . But there’s not . . . I’m . . . This is gonna sound absolutely crazy, but somehow I think you’re going to believe me. I’ve come here from the year 2016.”
“Wow,” she said. “Maybe we really can live in Crazy Town together.”
“I’m serious,” he said. “I know it’s nuts. But, I went through this thing . . . ”
“Uh, okay, future man,” she said, leaning against his shoulder. “Where’s your time machine?”
Kyle put his hand into his pocket and pulled out the silk blot, which had shrunk to the size of a coaster. “I came through this.”
Allaire poked at the silk blot with her finger. “Feels like a piece of fabric.”
Kyle shrugged. “It’s fine if you don’t believe me. I don’t know if I would. But this thing leads to a metal tunnel, with exits marked for every different year. I’m here to stop something horrible from happening. I really can’t tell you any more than that. But that’s the reason that all of this . . . we just can’t.”
Allaire sat studying his face for a few seconds. “Okay, I’ll buy it. I do believe you.”
“Just like that?” Kyle asked.
“Just like that,” she answered. “But, I don’t care when you come from. You’re here now. That’s what matters.” She grabbed his face and kissed him, using her weight to push him to the ground. He couldn’t believe how unaffected she was by what he’d told her. “And, you know what kind of person travels through time to try to fix the future? An awesome one!”
Kyle pulled away from the kiss. “You don’t get it. I have to get back into the tunnel tomorrow afternoon or I’m stuck here forever, which means at some point, I may run into the younger version of myself and my head will explode. Not to mention the fact that, according to the lady who sent me here, the timestream doesn’t want me here and is going to do whatever it takes to get me out.” The words sounded crazy. He couldn’t believe how much things had changed for him in only a few days.
“I don’t care about tomorrow,” she said. “In the morning, say “goodbye” if you need to. But, give me tonight.”
She climbed on top of him once more, wrapping her legs around his and pushing against his body with hers. This time, Kyle had no interest in stopping her, so he didn’t.
CHAPTER 13
February 5, 1998
* * *
The next day
Kyle opened his eyes and squinted in the morning sunlight. After they’d made love, Kyle had told Allaire absolutely everything: the crash, the prison, his father. Then they spent the night pressed against each other in her sleeping bag.
Panic set in almost immediately when he realized that he only had until about seven o’clock this evening to convince his father to stop the accident sixteen years from now, return to New York City and get back into the silk blot. He was surprised to find himself alone in the field behind Silverman High. He brought his arm in front of him and craned his head to find “BE RIGHT BACK” written in the same dark red color as Allaire’s lips.
He rubbed the sleepiness from his eyes and stood up. Just as he finished peeing in the bushes lining the school, he saw a couple of buses pull up down the street. Pretty soon, the area would be teeming with students from Silverman High—kids nearly his age, but ones who hadn’t made such huge, life-altering mistakes. He turned around and saw Allaire walking toward him holding a bag and couple of cups.
“You a cream and sugar guy?” she asked with her flirty smile. “I guessed black, but I brought some fixings you could add.”
“Black is fine,” Kyle said, taking one of the coffees. The prison’s instant packets were gross enough to dissuade Kyle from a daily caffeine habit at Stevenson Youth.
Allaire sat on the ground and opened the bag, pulling out two clear containers with scrambled eggs and potatoes in them. She handed one to Kyle. “Big day for you, future man. What’s our plan?”
Kyle opened up his container of eggs and pulled one of the cheap plastic forks from the bag. He started on the eggs like he hadn’t eaten in days, which wasn’t too far from the truth. “Last night was the best night I’ve had for as long as I can remember.”
“Same time, same place tonight, then?” Allaire asked, winking at him. “After you go and save the children, of course.”
“I can’t tell if you actually believe me or not,” Kyle said, smiling at her.
“Oh, I believe you,” she said, turning her voice a shade more to the serious side.
“Y’know, I think you’re pretty perfect,” Kyle said. If he’d met her in a world he belonged in, Kyle could see entering one of those relationship vortexes with her. One of those long honeymoon periods where March became July and neither person ever even realized they’d lost track of time.
“I don’t want you to go back,” she said, grabbing his hand. “You don’t have to.”
Kyle put his hand on her leg and squeezed her thigh. “I have a job to do. If I don’t, kids are going to die.”
“Do what you need to do and come back to me,” she said. “Why do you need to go back to 2016?”
“We have to get you back on the bus to the city,” Kyle said.
“We could go live somewhere else,” she said. “Away from Flemming. Away from anywhere you’d ever see yourself. You know how many people there are in the world? And neither of us have seen any of it!”
Kyle shook his head. He was scared that betraying Myrna would spell doom for the kids on the bus. “You’re the second once-in-a-lifetime thing that’s happened to me this week. I’m sorry, Allaire. I have to go back tonight. And if you don’t get on that bus right now, I’m afraid I won’t do what I need to to save those kids.”
Allaire wiped her eyes, and nodded. Then, like she was convincing herself of something, she nodded over and over again. Kyle hated the hurt he saw in her face.
Allaire sobbed, and then took a deep breath. She stabbed the plastic fork into her breakfast container.
“Eggs are that good, huh?” Kyle asked, hoping he might get her to crack a smile. He lifted her chin with his hand. “I hate that we have to say goodbye—“
“Then don’t,” she said.
“I wasn’t even supposed to speak to anyone except my father,” Kyle said.
“Well don’t worry. Your s
ecrets are safe with me, Kyle Cash,” she said with more of a polite smile than the loving one he was becoming addicted to. She stood up.
“Let me walk you to the station,” he said.
“You don’t need to,” Allaire said. “Do your thing. I’ll go home now. I promise.”
Kyle nodded slowly. He wanted every last second with her, but he had a long road ahead of him today and needed every second he had.
She kissed him, long and deep as the night before. “Promise me one thing,” she said.
“What?”
“That you’ll come find me in 2016.”
He put his hands on her cheeks. “You’ll be twice my age, Allaire. You’ll probably be married. Maybe you’ll have kids.”
“No!” she said. “Don’t say that. You have to promise me. Or I’m not getting on that bus.”
“You’re not even going to remember me,” Kyle said.
“That’s insulting,” she said, shaking her head in disappointment. “I’ve never felt this way before, Kyle.”
Kyle put his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I just—”
She still looked disappointed. “You’re not even the one that has to wait.” Kyle felt like he had somehow minimized what had happened between them by presenting the idea of a world where she moved on from him at some point in the next eighteen years.
“I’m really sorry,” he said.
“Don’t be. Just come find me,” she said. “And make sure to tell me I’m still pretty.”
“Of course you’ll still be pretty,” he said, hugging her now. “You’ll still be beautiful.”
“I’ll be thirty-four!” she said. “That’s old!”
“I have to go,” he said, squeezing her once more.
“Good luck, Kyle Cash,” she said, as he began to walk away. Immediately, he started to think about what he was going to say to his father.
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