The Unintentional Time Traveler (Time Guardians Book 1)

by Everett Maroon

  “I suppose I also should read up on the history of the town, and that Dr. Traver.”

  “You have the date from the article,” said Jeannine. “That’s your goal for getting back, so you can stop the fire. Too bad the microfiche is back in the library.”

  “Heh, I snuck it out with me,” I said, and I patted my shirt pocket.

  “See Jack, you are clever,” she said. We agreed to do our own research and meet back on the weekend to go over what we’d discovered.

  I left her car and shuffled away to my house. I was happy to have a friend in all of this, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that she didn’t believe me one hundred percent. But hey, even I only bought my own story about halfway.

  ***

  Six-fifteen and my father wasn’t home yet, so I combed through the books in the garage that sat above his workbench. I knew it was in the pile somewhere, but all I found were mechanic’s guides to engines, electrical systems, and suspensions. I grabbed those, and right before I went inside to the kitchen, I found a dog-eared box in the corner. Crouching down, I opened the flap, and crammed in the middle, there it was, the book I’d remembered: The Boy’s Book of Amateur Radio. I snatched it up with the others I’d taken, and thumped up the stairs to my room. I heard my mother’s soft snoring from her bedroom.

  “Hi, Mom,” I said, sitting on the edge of the bed. She opened her eyes and pulled one arm out from under the covers. “Can I get you anything?” I stroked her hair; it needed washing.

  “Hi, Jacky,” she said in a hoarse tone. She gripped my hand. She was warm.

  “Do you need a drink?” I looked at the night table and saw that Dad had brought her a mug of coffee, which as usual sat full and cold.

  “No, honey. You’re my sweetheart.” She sounded far away, as if she were at the end of one of Mr. Rushman’s long underground tunnels. I squeezed her hand and was a little surprised when she sat up.

  She looked at me, the corners of her mouth climbing up to form a small smile.

  “You’re my big boy now,” she said. “And I don’t want you to worry about me. You’re almost a man now. You’re outgrowing us.”

  My words caught up inside me. I tried not to gawk at her.

  “Oh Mom, I love you and I love Dad. I just want you to be well and to make you proud.” Also, I’m not ready to be an adult yet. I want my time back. I don’t know what I want.

  Mom went back to staring blankly at the wall behind me, though she had a faint smile. I laid her back in the bed and pulled the covers over her. I sat on my bed, in the room that felt like anyone’s but mine, and cried for a while, until I heard my father shut the front door. Then I washed my face in the bathroom, feeling and hating the stubble under my fingers. There was so much to catch up on. Somehow I had all the time in the world and no time at all.

  ***

  I brought the books with me into the woods at the edge of the tract. It was a lot harder to squeeze through the gap in the fence, and to prove I’d gotten bigger I ripped the bottom of my t-shirt passing against the metal. I was so behind at school I started skipping class entirely, waiting for Dad to go to the shop and then carting off a couple of books, a small notebook, a sack lunch, and a pen. I sat in the small clearing every day for a week, and shockingly, nobody from school called my parents. Maybe they didn’t care.

  It was weird being in the woods without being chased. These were tame trees, where no wolves would howl near me and no mobs of angry men would intimidate me or attack. Worried I was only just holding it all together, I focused on the HAM radio book. I flipped past all of the chapters on getting an operator’s license and jumped straight into how to make one. I redrew all of the illustrations in the book, hoping to imprint it on my mind, and when I thought I couldn’t possibly remember another detail, I switched to the book on engines and read about pistons and horsepower and improvements in fuel injection. Swapping books back and forth all day, I crammed as if for a final.

  In the middle of week two of my “independent study” in the woods, my calves started cramping up. I decided to take a short walk. It was then that I heard them, a couple of people kissing and moaning. I didn’t mean to see who they were, but I stumbled on a tree root and snapped several twigs in a loud mess as my feet went out from under me and I face planted. I could jump through time, but I couldn’t walk without tripping.

  “Who’s there?” I heard. Sanjay’s voice. I scrambled to my feet and ran off, through the trees and back to my clearing, not sure if he’d laid eyes on me or not. But I’d seen him, just for a moment—

  He’d been kissing another boy.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I REACHED THE CLEARING QUICKLY, wondering how stupid I looked running away from my old friend. I grabbed my books and tried to put the pieces together. Did this have anything to do with our fight, whenever we’d had it?

  I jogged out of the woods and onto my block, puffing only a little. Great. I bet I’ve become a gym rat. My own body felt like someone else’s.

  “Hey, Jack,” said Sanjay from behind me, breathing hard. He must have run to catch up.

  “Are you going to yell at me again?” I asked.

  “I didn’t yell at you,” he said.

  “In the cafeteria.”

  Jay threw his arms up in the air. “Look, what do you want from me, man?”

  I sighed. “Talk.”

  “I just want to know, do I have to worry?” He buried his hands in his pockets.

  “Do you have to worry about what?”

  “Do I have to worry about you blabbing about what you saw?”

  He meant the kissing. Pick up the clue phone, dumbass. The clue phone is ringing…

  “Jay, I miss our friendship. You don’t even trust me anymore. I’d never get you in trouble.” I caught myself. What if I’d already gotten him in trouble? Why couldn’t I watch what I said? Why did the words have to tumble out before I’d thought about what to say?

  He stepped closer and pressed his finger to my chest.

  “You were the one who said we couldn’t be friends, that you didn’t really know me, that I was sick. Why would I trust you?” He looked close to spitting on me.

  “I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

  The wind went out of his sails. Bingo. I’d been an asshole who needed to apologize. I just wasn’t sure why.

  “I’m sorry too,” he said, backing away. “I’m sorry I thought you felt the same way as me. But now you’re Mr. Macho, and I’m just a, what did you call me? Oh, a “little Indian fairy.’”

  Now it was his turn to land a blow. He didn’t give me a chance to say anything but instead started heading back down the block to his house.

  “I’m sorry,” I said again, knowing he was too far away to hear me. Why had I been such a jerk to an old friend?

  ***

  Jeannine called just in time before I reached a breaking point. Holy crap I cried a lot. I sobbed into the phone that between my mother, Jay, all the years I’d missed, and the people I’d left behind, I didn’t know what to do anymore. If she still doubted my story, she didn’t show it. We agreed to meet for pizza at seven, a couple of miles away off the highway at a joint called Aljohn’s. I needed to catch up to my life at some point.

  “Dad, I’m going to get some pizza with Jeannine, okay?”

  He sat in a checkered recliner, watching some sporting event.

  “Sure, kiddo,” he said, not looking away from the screen. “Keys are on the table in the foyer.” I could hear him smiling. How he could smile, I didn’t know. Mom was like a zombie. Didn’t he care?

  “Hey, Jack,” he called out.

  “What?”

  “Can you pick up some milk on the way home? I’m out for your Mom’s coffee.”

  The coffee she never drank?

  “Sure, Dad.” The family that deludes itself together, stays deluded together!

  The steering wheel was cold where I gripped it. I thought about how I’d driven Lucas’s pieced-together ride and what kinds of
improvements I could make to it. I took off in the direction of the pizza parlor, hoping that I’d remember where it was.

  The pizza joint came into view as I turned the corner, and I parked next to Jeannine’s car. As soon as I could smell the fresh red sauce and yeasty dough, my stomach rumbled. I bought two slices and sat down across from her. She had stacked several books and magazines on the table.

  “First things first,” she said, taking my free hand, “let’s talk about you and Sanjay.”

  I nodded. “What do you know?”

  “Nothing. He wouldn’t talk to me about whatever latest fight you two had. And neither of you will talk to me about what ended your friendship. So I can’t help you.” Some fight ended our friendship. Figured. I wondered when our tight group had fallen apart. Jeannine must have felt pushed away by both of us. I sat back, loosening myself from her grip and taking a big bite of pepperoni pizza. For a moment I pondered when pizza had come to America, since there wasn’t exactly a pie shop in Jacqueline’s town. Pizza was great.

  “Well, I think it has to do with him liking other boys.”

  “You’re saying he’s gay? I’m surprised.”

  “Why? I’m not. But I think I was mean to him when it happened. I should have been kinder.”

  “Wow.”

  “What?”

  “That’s just very emotionally astute of you,” she said.

  “I’m not an idiot.”

  “I’m not saying you are,” she said, covering her mouth as she spoke and chewed. “You’re just not like other teenage boys.”

  I thought about that for a minute.

  “Not anymore, I suppose.”

  “Well, Jay’s family is very old fashioned. I’m sure they only want him marrying another Indian girl, and if he’s gay they won’t deal with that well.”

  I thought about it. They’d even told him he couldn’t date Jeannine, the actual girl next door, because she was Cuban. Of course they’d go off a cliff if he said he wasn’t straight.

  “It must be lonely and scary for him,” I said.

  “For you, too, with all that you have going on.”

  “I’ll try to talk to him later,” I said, remembering how angry he’d been with me earlier today. “Let’s talk about how to get me back to 1926. I have got to warn those people, help them get rid of Dr. Traver.”

  “I’ve done some research on that,” she said, and she pulled a thin book out of her pile. “It’s a history of central Kentucky.”

  “Oh? And what does it say?”

  “Bad things.”

  “Well, okay,”

  “No, Jack. Very bad things. This Prophet Traver character, he gets his whole congregation to commit mass suicide in 1930.”

  ***

  I figured I needed to go see Dr. Dorfman, because his study set all of this time-jumping in motion. Even though I wasn’t participating in his experiment anymore, I wondered if I could use his equipment to send me back again. And it was possible that I’d talked to him at some point in the past three years, but I was ready to play dumb and pretend I’d forgotten in some major memory lapse.

  The hospital, even after all this time, was familiar, down to the odor of ammonia and latex. I walked in, remembering the string of turns and doorways, over to the neurology wing. I smiled at the woman sitting at the reception desk. She looked at me curiously.

  “Can I help you, young man?”

  “I’m looking for Dr. Dorfman,” I said. Two rooms away I’d sat in a plush chair for his study. I could see a slice of the waiting room from the nurses’ station here.

  “He no longer works at this hospital.”

  “He, he doesn’t?” I should have called first. “Do you know where he is?”

  “No, I’m certain I don’t.” She folded her arms across her chest. It was like I was asking for the codes to the missile silos so I could bomb Russia.

  “Is there anyone here who would know where he went?”

  “Well, I’m not going to walk around and ask everyone,” she said. This was going nowhere fast.

  “But I need to find him!”

  She stood up, and on a raised platform, stood much taller than me. “Don’t make me call security, young man.”

  In the hallway I noticed Cindy, the nurse who had assisted Dr. Dorfpoodle for the study. I ran over to her, against the shouts of the woman at reception. I hoped she’d recognize me.

  “Hi there,” Cindy said, her smile dissolving as the receptionist rushed over and clamped her hand around my arm. She began pulling me away, but I resisted.

  “Mrs. Finney, what’s going on?” asked Cindy. I yanked my arm free. “Let me see what he needs and I’ll send him away.”

  The woman named Mrs. Finney gave me a hard stare. “One minute,” she said in a low growl, “he doesn’t have any business here.” She huffed away.

  “You look all grown up,” said Cindy.

  “Thanks.” I got right to the point. “I’m looking for Dr. Dorfman.”

  Now she looked sad. “Well, he doesn’t work here anymore.”

  This whole trip was a waste of time.

  “Does anyone know where he is? Can I call someone?”

  She looked around to see who could hear us. “The other nurses are very protective of him. Everybody liked him.”

  I couldn’t understand what he would need protection from, exactly. Certainly not me.

  “I just want to talk to him about his study. I don’t even have seizures anymore.”

  “I know,” she said, her face brightening. “That’s wonderful.”

  “So where can I find him? I have questions only he can answer.”

  She sighed, and noted that Mrs. Finney was watching us, telling her to hurry it up.

  “Dr. Dorfman isn’t well.”

  “Okay,” said Mrs. Finney from across the ward. “Move along, young man.”

  “What do you mean, not well?” Sounds of Mrs. Finney dialing security, the rotor on the phone whirring as it sprang back into position for the next number. Thank god she didn’t have a push button phone.

  “He had a nervous breakdown, I’m afraid to say.”

  “A what?”

  “He’s ill. Mentally, Jack. I’m sorry.” Mrs. Finney, still speaking loudly, told security she needed a removal from neurology, right away.

  “Can he talk?” I tried to process this information before anyone hauled me off.

  “He can talk. He’s just—he has delusions. He’ll be better at some point, I’m sure.”

  “Delusions?” I remembered the psychology class I took my first year of high school. “You mean he believes things that aren’t true?”

  “Yes.” Behind me, the double doors to the ward pounded open, and an enormous man, nearly bursting out of his security uniform, bounded over to Mrs. Finney. She pointed straight at me. Great. I was no match for this steroid-puffed rent-a-cop.

  “Where is he?”

  “Oh, he’s here, in the mental wellness ward.” As the guard approached, I held up my hands in surrender. I wanted no fight with the giant.

  “So he can hold a conversation, he’s just crazy?”

  “Shh, don’t say ‘crazy.’” More large hands set on my frame. And Cindy leaned in to whisper to me just before I was hauled away: “He just had this idea that he was sending people back in time.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  IN THREE WEEKS I had studied up on everything I could think of that would help me, if I could only get back to Jacqueline’s time. I continued to wake up damp in my own cold sweat, smelling the house fire. Not much was improving in this time, either, although I’d succeeded in my battle to get my father to take Mom to a different doctor. I’d organized all of her pills and done some research to find out which ones had side effects and which ones could make her so spacey. I was prepped for the doctor visit when I would march in and order him to change her medication.

  Jeannine and I met on a regular basis, and it was like she believed my ridiculous story. I still hadn’t
gotten Jay to talk to me, even though I’d knocked on his door a few times. At those points his mother would look at me with sadness in her eyes, saying he was busy or not at home. And although I still went to the woods—which were especially serene when they were snow-covered—I didn’t see him there again. I presumed that with his hiding place blown, he’d found a new space that I wouldn’t know about. Jeannine agreed that if I just kept trying, eventually he would reconnect with me.

  I’d gotten Mom to come down to the kitchen, and she was willing to eat scrambled eggs. I whisked two in a bowl and she turned to face me from her seat at the table.

  “How did my baby grow up so fast?” she asked. She clearly didn’t recall that we had this conversation every week or so.

  “Oh Mom, I’ll always be your baby.” I poured some milk into the bowl and whisked it.

  “I hope so,” she said, fingering her coffee mug. “I’m sorry I’ve been in such a fog.”

  I poured the eggs into the pan, silencing the sizzling butter.

  “I just want you to be healthy. And safe.”

  “You’re not supposed to mother your own mother.” She lapsed into a long silence, but she ate her eggs and a little toast before heading to the patio to rest. On the windowsill over the sink I saw my old pill box. Because it was transparent I could tell it didn’t have my old medication in it; Mom’s pills were in there now.

  I was cleaning up when Jeannine knocked at the door.

  “Time to study,” she said when I let her in. She always had a stack of reading material for me. I’d started keeping her favorite soda in the house, so I poured her a glass.

  “Thanks,” said Jeannine, taking a sip of Tab.

  “So what’s on our lesson plan today?” I asked. I read through whatever I could on my own time, but when we were together we followed whatever Jeannine had set up for us that day. Most days I had my head in a book since I still had to catch up on all the high school I’d missed.