Timelines: Stories Inspired by H.G. Wells' the Time Machine

by Jw Schnarr

  The rain began to fall, heavily. The four elderly people slowly made their way along the road that was becoming slick and muddy beneath their feet. No one spoke as they reached the low-humped hills, followed the trail across them, and stopped on a slope overlooking the splashing river. On the near bank lay an upturned wooden row-boat. One edge sat off the wet dirt upon a small rock, and there were two oars lying on the ground beside it.

  “Whose turn is it? Does anyone even care?” asked the sick old man, whose name was Jason. “You should do it, Eric, we’re all tired and it is for your benefit.”

  “Let’s just go another way this time!” said the woman arm-in-arm with Jason, “if it doesn’t work out and we don’t get there, well, I don’t think I – we – really care anymore.”

  Beside her Jason sighed and nodded his head. “I’m with Molly. I’ll happily risk it all ending in a week at the chance of a few extra days that are just different. This isn’t living anymore, is it? Was it ever?”

  “Shut it, you two!” shouted Eric, “I’m sick to death of this. Go, if you want, I don’t care. Enjoy the light show. We’re going on as usual. Wait here, Jenna.”

  Eric strode over-confidently down the path to the riverside, barely keeping his balance on the slick ground as the rain pelted off his coat. As he approached the upturned boat he slipped his backpack off and pulled a large knife from a side pouch. Grunting, he bent down and grabbed one of the wet oars from the ground and thwacked it against the side of the boat. A brown-and-yellow diamond-striped snake came wriggling quickly from beneath the boat, skirting the small rock. Eric leaned forward and chopped down with his knife, decapitating the snake in one well-practiced swipe.

  “Us one thousand, five hundred and sixty, snake one!” said Eric loudly, with little joy in his voice, gesturing to Jenna at the top of the slope to come join him.

  The First Trip, Day 1

  Molly shouted to Jason as she twisted a key uselessly in the car ignition.

  “Completely dead! Not a thing. You get anything else on the TV?”

  Jason ran back inside the cabin before reappearing a moment later, shaking his head.

  “Nothing, it’s kaput too! Everything electrical has died.”

  Molly rushed back to the cabin, finding herself glancing up at the sky as she did, and pulled Jason inside with her. In the main, spacious room Eric and Jenna were fiddling with the dead television and a small, silent weather radio.

  “Okay, kid, let’s think it through here. This is crazy,” said Molly, pulling her loosened red hair away from her face with both hands. “They said we had one week. They said there are transports leaving Centralia up to and including the seventh day. They expected all communications to be lost quickly – and they were right. They didn’t mention everything with electrical power going down.”

  “This is freaking insane,” yelled Eric, punching the top of the television, “we get an emergency broadcast out of nowhere telling us we all die in a week and we’re supposed to just accept it as fact? I want some goddamn proof!”

  “Look around!” shouted Jenna. “Nothing works! You think a power outage took out everything with batteries, and the car?” She dropped her face into her hands and became silent.

  A huge boom rocked the cabin, sending plates and cups falling from shelves in the kitchen and smashing on the floor. Jason ran outside and headed towards the back of the cabin where he thought the explosion had come from. Looking out across the forest he saw a thick chimney of black smoke trailing up into the grey sky. Thinking fast, he took off running towards the tree line. Behind him, the others watched from a window, faces ashen. Eric slipped an arm around his wife and pulled her close. Molly crossed herself as she watched her husband disappear amongst the trees.

  Forty minutes later Jason returned, dirty and out of breath. The others saw him coming and met him at the door.

  “Start packing,” he said, huffing. “That was a commercial passenger ‘plane. No survivors.”

  “Who is doing this?” asked Jenna. “Who is trying to kill us?”

  “It doesn’t really matter, does it? We have one week to get to Centralia, of all places, without any transport. Let’s get some shit together, fast, and head out.” Jason moved towards the bedrooms to collect backpacks.

  Within the hour the four were on their way and heading in a direction away from the crashed airplane, much to the relief of Jenna. Each wore the backpacks they had brought along for the weekend in the cabin, stuffed full of processed food, water and a minimum of extra clothing.

  “Look on the bright side,” said Eric, his dark hair blowing in the breeze as he looked back and saw the cabin fading in the distance behind them. “We’re not in a city. Imagine the freaking chaos there right now, all those people trying to get out on foot. They’re probably killing each other. If I’m going to go down, I’m glad it’s with you guys.”

  The Last Trip, Day 4

  Molly approached a green SUV on the side of the highway and opened the rear doors, pulling them wide before reaching inside and unstrapping a wheelchair that lay folded in the cargo hold. Without a moment of hesitation or thought, she pulled and clicked the chair into place and wheeled it to the center of the highway where her three friends waited. Jason was being held up by Eric and Jenna, his face towards the ground.

  “OK honey, sit down. It’s relaxing time again.” Molly looked at Eric with pleading eyes and the old man sighed.

  “I’ll push you first, buddy. The girls can do the goody run.”

  Molly and Jenna started walking briskly along the vehicle-strewn highway. They stopped occasionally and opened a door on a particular car or truck. They clambered inside and came out with some kind of swag, be it half a bottle of juice, an unopened packet of cookies or a bag of deli chips. The women each covered one side of the highway, and never came out of a vehicle empty-handed. Every treasure-point was deeply ingrained in their minds, a map of refreshments and snacks plotted out over many runs. As Eric slowly pushed Jason along the asphalt towards the women, Jenna called back to him.

  “Do you want the boots from the white Jeep?”

  “Not this time, these are still good.”

  Jenna shrugged and moved on to a metallic-blue Lexus, pulling a straw hat from the passenger side. She put it on, struck a silly pose and smiled back at the men that trailed behind.

  “Gotta have my lucky hat!”

  Eric leaned down and whispered into Jason’s ear. “That freaking thing’ll never work,” he said.

  Jason laughed, coughed, and spat onto the ground. Eric pushed forward, wondering if they could find a wheelbarrow or something before they reached the wheelchair next time. It was getting harder and harder to get Jason to that point; this time had about killed them all. He made a mental note to ask Howard to find something. It was a miracle that they had managed to carry him all that way on the first trip.

  He watched his wife skip between the abandoned cars in her silly hat that she would later throw off a bridge with a silent wish and wondered how she stayed cheerful. They’d never had the chance to do all those things they’d planned when they first married. No trip to Venice. No renovating an old house. No children. They’d honestly had nothing, for 30 years, except each other. Eric knew that Jenna was the only reason he did this. In this world, with no hope and no deviation, she was the only thing on the entire doomed planet that stopped him from climbing to the highest point he could find and throwing himself off with one final middle-fingered salute to the heavens. At least they had been able to grow old together; noone could take that away from them.

  The ransacking of abandoned vehicles came to an end as they reached what they had dubbed Death Mile. A huge pile-up of traffic, mostly vehicles containing corpses of fractured and burned people spread ahead of them as far as they could see. No one looked into the vehicles if they could help it, picking their way around the wreckage with eyes to the ground. The first time had scarred them all for life.

  The First Trip, Day 2


  “How on earth can it be raining?” laughed Jason, pulling his backpack up over his head as a hard rain began to fall from a rogue storm cloud in the otherwise clear blue sky.

  Jenna squealed and fell to her knees, rummaging in her own backpack for some kind of protective wear. She pulled out a battered leather jacket and slipped it on as fast as she could, turning up the stiff collar around her neck and tucking her blonde ponytail inside it. Eric pulled out a baseball cap, which he immediately gave to Jenna. Molly had nothing but underwear, socks and t-shirts in her backpack so did as Jason had done, balancing her backpack on her head with both hands.

  “This better pass quickly!” she shouted above the din of the rain, scowling from beneath her pack. “I’m not wearing panties on my head!”

  Up ahead of them the road curved to the right but a trail led up into the hills. Eric dropped his pack, seemingly oblivious to the downpour, and ran ahead, shouting back that he was going to check the trail and see if they could save some time.

  Within five minutes he came splashing back towards them giving a double thumbs-up as he ran. When he reached the miserably wet threesome sheltering beneath their luggage he grabbed his own backpack and told them to come on, there was a small river just ahead and a handy-dandy boat waiting for them. He didn’t seem bothered by the storm at all.

  “We can shelter under the boat until the rain stops!” he said, grinning. “You can thank me later!” He jogged back towards the hills, the others following behind at a slower trot.

  Jason and the girls reached the peak of the hill and looked down on the sad, dirty river below. It didn’t look like it would be a difficult crossing at all. Eric was already crouched by an upturned row-boat on the bank and waved as he saw the others appear. He reached both hands under the boats lip that sat up on a small rock then fell back onto his butt with a curse. He scrambled backwards, away from the boat and examined his right wrist, still cursing. The others rushed down the hill towards him, unsure what had happened.

  “Stay away from the boat!” shouted Eric, “I just got bit.”

  Eric became sick that night on the other side of the river; Jason and Jenna tended to him the best they could with limited provisions, the sounds of the river water still audible behind them. The three friends continued their journey in the darkness, half carrying, half dragging a feverish, barely-conscious Eric on a shoddily-made sling constructed from back-pack frames and clothing, Jason doing the bulk of the work. They needed to get to Centralia fast and find medical help, before he died. There was no time to rest and they were moving at a snail’s pace. Thank God, they were relatively young and strong.

  The Last Trip, Day 6

  The four friends moved through the dead city at a decent clip, their final destination just a few blocks away now. Jenna pushed Jason along the sidewalk as Eric sauntered ahead and shooed away dogs that were gnawing on bodies in the street, waving Jason’s stick at them. Even after all this time, even with every sight around every corner permanently stamped into their minds in ridiculous detail, entering the city produced a feeling that surpassed creepiness. Just one time, thought Jenna, something unexpected is going to happen. Someone new is going to appear, leaning on a wall or out of a window. Maybe they’d hear a voice, or a piece of music, or a bird.

  After just a few minutes they arrived at a squat, windowless building with a small metal door set centrally along the front wall.

  “Where is he?” yelled Eric, banging on the metal. “No balloons and streamers this time? I am starving for some beef stew!”

  “Just use the key,” said Molly. “He’s probably cooking.”

  Eric pulled a small brass key on a big steel ring from his pants pocket and slid aside a metal disc on the door, revealing a keyhole. With a twist and a jiggle the door clicked open and the four moved inside, pulling the wheelchair over the rubber threshold then closing the door behind them.

  They moved down a narrow, featureless hallway and emerged into a wide, white-walled room with four camp beds draped in blankets set up along the right side. In the center of the room, a rectangular, plastic table dominated the eye surrounded by five chairs. Eric and Jenna moved Jason onto one of the beds and lay him down with a blanket pulled up to his neck. Molly headed across the room and through a door on the opposite side, calling out as she went.

  “Howard? It’s us, on time as usual. Howard, you back here?”

  Jenna folded back the blanket that covered Jason and removed his boots. He was sleeping already, his face expressionless and pale. Molly re-appeared across the room, her face tight, and beckoned to Eric. He followed her, past a tiny kitchen which was quiet and clean. Past a collection of closed white doors and then a big red door marked NO ENTRY in bold black letters. At the end of the corridor, down a passage to the right, was a small room, door wide open, with a small sink and a single bed in it. On the bed lay the body of an elderly man dressed in a dark suit and wearing a green cook’s apron, his grey beard and moustache glaring white beneath the harsh ceiling light. His face was sunken, indicating he’d been dead a little while. On his chest his hands were clasped, a pair of spectacles clenched between his rigid fingers.

  “Oh, Howard,” said Eric, genuine sadness in his voice. “What the Hell will we do now?”

  Next to him, Molly started to cry. He put his arm around her and realized that this was it. He was surprised at how much relief he felt.

  The First Trip, Day 6

  The city seemed deserted. Beyond that, it seemed dead. No lights shone in windows, no cross-walk signs flashed little green men. There were signs everywhere of massive looting. Some bodies lay in the streets, chewed on by stray dogs and cats. The four travelers made their way cautiously through the centre of Centralia looking for any sign of the great evacuation that was supposed to be happening tomorrow. They had expected crowds of people, noise and fear and excitement, but there was nothing. Eric was doing better but was still extremely weak and in dire need of medical attention. Jason suggested they make straight for the hospital. Deserted or not, they’d get Eric some medicine. They were just a couple of blocks away when they saw a bespectacled, bearded man in a dark suit standing outside a low building with no windows in it. As they approached, Eric stumbling along, holding onto the shoulders of his friend. The bearded man ran towards them with a look of genuine concern on his face. He helped them get Eric inside the windowless building, promising he had a full medical lab inside, and the travelers believed him; there was sincerity in his voice and a kindly tilt to his face.

  Twenty minutes later, inside the building, Eric was in an actual med-lab being tended to by the bearded man, Jason assisting him with a slightly wary eye. He had introduced himself as Doctor Howard Rorke. The two girls sat at a table in the main room drinking freshly brewed coffee and soaking their ragged feet in tubs of hot, balmed water. It had taken them a while, overloaded with simple comforts, to realize that this was the first place they had seen in a week that actually had power.

  Jason returned to the main room with Howard, letting the girls know that Eric was sleeping and would be just fine.

  “Thank you, Howard, truly!” said Molly. “But can I ask you a question? What happened? Where is everybody? Do you know what’s going on?”

  Howard sat down at the table and beckoned Jason to join him.

  “It’s been a crazy week,” Howard answered. “And I know you’ve come a long, hard way to get here. Let me try and explain everything as quickly as I can. First, the evacuations ended on Tuesday, four days early.”

  Everyone else around the table groaned.

  “I know, I know. There was trouble with the crowds, the whole city was a mess and they decided to launch all the ships early in case the people got to and damaged them. Those that didn’t get on heard a rumor about another evac happening down in Clarksville and everyone headed that way. It’s a lie, though; there are no more evacs anywhere.”

  “How do you know?” asked Jenna. “Do you work for the Government? And if so,
why didn’t you get out when you could? And how do you have power?”

  “More questions, Jenna,” said Eric sarcastically. “That wasn’t nearly enough in one go.”

  “No no, ask away, all of you. Yes, I work for a particular government agency. I wasn’t here on evac day; I just got back from a trip the night after. This building is one of very few in the country that still has power. It’s run from a quite massive self-sufficient generator in the back, and all the equipment in here survived that EMP blast or whatever it was last week because this entire building is deliberately insulated and protected against such possibilities.”

  “So what do we do now?” asked Jason, glumly. “Wait around and watch the world end, us with it?”

  “We could,” said Howard, smiling. “Or we could carry on living. Come, follow me!”

  Confused and a little wary, the two girls quickly dried their feet and, along with Jason, followed Howard down the corridor past all the white doors to a red door with a large NO ENTRY sign on it. Howard typed a code into a keypad and opened the door, leading the others into a cool, dimly lit room. There was a large control console immediately ahead of them, then a transparent wall with a hatch in it, and on the other side a shiny, white room that appeared to be completely empty.

  “This is our life-saver!” Howard proclaimed with a grin, raising his arms into the air.

  “Welcome to Project Boomerang!”

  For the next couple of hours Howard explained his work. Project Boomerang was a time travel experiment, headed by Howard, which had achieved some great success. They had managed to travel only backwards in time and the traveling worked on a pre-existing displacement principle. What this meant, Howard explained, was that the traveler could only jump to a time and place where they had previously existed. The traveling version of the person would take the place in the world of the old version, with all the knowledge they had gained since that time kept intact. That is, until the boomerang effect kicked in and the traveler was pulled back to the present, whereupon the original version of the person would resume back in the past.