by Al K. Line
Thud.
Dale and Amanda jumped up and stared at each other, not knowing what to expect but knowing it would be something awful, something to do with Hexads. Maybe someone was after them? Tellan said there were a lot of people from various universes after them, but weren't they supposed to be gone or closed off or something? Who knew? By rights, surely the futures they had just visited shouldn't exist, otherwise... Don't think about it.
Amanda looked around. Dale was already staring at what had caused the noise as it hit the ground.
"It's a pigeon," said Dale, looking around cautiously then stepping closer.
"Careful!" warned Amanda.
"Of what, time traveling pigeons? Haha."
"Dale, be careful."
Dale walked up to the bird, then squatted to inspect it. "It's got no head, and all its insides are gone. Weird."
Amanda moved beside him. She gripped his shoulder, getting a handful of his curly, dark hair as well. She peered at the bird. It really was a headless pigeon. Amanda took a step back and peered up at the roof of the bungalow — there was no sign it had been up there, but then what would a headless pigeon be doing on the roof?
"Let's just go inside, I've had enough surprises for one day," said Dale, pushing the bird away from the kitchen door.
"I'll get the coffee." Amanda quickly grabbed the mugs and they walked into the cool interior of the kitchen.
It felt normal, which made it feel weird. Amanda could have convinced herself everything was okay if it wasn't for the Hexad on the table, the 3 flashing, casting a faint blue light on the ceiling that needed a new coat of paint.
"I think I need a lie down."
"Me too," agreed Dale.
They went into the living room and slumped down on the sofa.
The coffee, forgotten, slowly grew cold in the kitchen.
Stupid Ideas
Present Day
"That's the last one I go to. Ever," moaned Amanda. She dumped her coat and bag on the kitchen counter then ran her hands through her hair. The fine drizzle had flattened it like she'd just got out of the shower, and she felt miserable, defeated, and worried about the human race if she was honest.
"Me too. What is wrong with these people? Well, at least we tried," said Dale, clearly trying to be the optimistic one. "Now we know we aren't going to get answers from any of these damn conventions. It's just made up of weirdos and crackpots. None of them have got a clue what they're talking about, have they?"
"Absolutely no idea. If they knew what we know I wonder what they'd say?"
"They'd probably smile to our face and nod, but call us nutters behind our back, like we do to them."
"Except the difference is we really have done it, haven't we? Tell me it wasn't all a dream, Dale, tell me we jumped."
"We did, honey, we sure did. I'm half tempted to do it again just to prove to ourselves that we are the normal ones." Dale took off his coat and shook it before realizing he was getting the kitchen wet. He picked up Amanda's and put them both out on hooks in the small utility room that led off the kitchen to the side garden. After taking off his shoes he came back into the kitchen. "Ugh, my socks are getting all wet. And what's this!?" Dale bent down and picked something up off the floor.
"What is it?" Amanda slipped off her Converse and danced around the wet patches on the floor, then put them out next to Dale's. She sidled up beside him — he was still peering at whatever it was he'd found.
"Looks like sausage. What's going on here? Why does this keep happening? Think we've got mice?" Dale dropped it into the bin, the lid scraping against bare brick wall as he opened the lid too wide as usual.
Amanda kept quiet, even though she was itching to tell him to be careful. "Maybe we time travel and come back and steal our own sausages?" Dale stared at her. "What? You never know. Anyway, I'm past caring. I'm shattered. No more conventions, they just depress me."
"Agreed."
Amanda got two glasses out of the cupboard and poured them both a much needed glass of wine. They took them into the living room and sank gratefully into the soft sofa.
It was now months since their time travel experiences, and much as they were glad to be able to go about their normal lives, the events of the past hung over them, as if waiting to warp reality once more. But nothing happened, life just carried on as normal. They did their work, they looked after the garden. Dale mowed the lawns if the rain stopped long enough and they had a fry-up every Saturday. It was maddening. Life went on as before but it wasn't relaxing — they both kept expecting something to happen, something epic, something crazy, but life remained static.
Neither of them had dug up the garden, much as they wanted to, as they agreed no good could come of it, the same as no good could come from using the remaining jumps they had. Instead, they had delved into books on anything even remotely related to time travel, trying to understand the theories, the concepts, anything that could help untangle the strangeness they had got caught up in. None of it helped.
There were as many theories as there were people interested in time travel itself, each of them varying wildly when it came to what would happen if you jumped — whether you could only jump to the past, if you could change the future or not, to speculation on parallel universes, if you created new universes just by jumping, or even saying you would jump — as the future had to be there for you to jump into if you said you might do it, right? There were downright bizarre theories concerning the creation of new versions of yourself each time you jumped, creating multiple timelines in not only your own universe but doing the same in newly born ones too.
Some of it made sense, to a degree, but most of it was simply the ravings of people that should take up other hobbies.
When they moved on to going to conferences, large and small, and even little get-togethers for those interested in such things, well, it just got silly.
This was their last event, and it wasn't one of the better ones.
It had comprised little more than a hired room in a very low-grade hotel, a dodgy looking buffet and a few speakers so full of their own pomp and importance it was laughable. The whole thing was designed to sell some ridiculous device that the main speaker promised would allow them to change the future, in the future, which was quite a clever marketing gimmick, Amanda had to admit. There wouldn't be any returns because it didn't work as it wasn't supposed to work until at least fifteen years in the future, which the speaker promised was when time travel was actually invented.
When they eventually got home they were shattered. They'd driven for hours to get there, and the drive home took even longer — the motorway was closed and they had to take a detour through endless small towns and villages before they finally arrived, the car running on fumes, the fuel gauge showing empty for miles, leaving them panicking about being stuck in the middle of nowhere.
"Well, it's over now. We learned nothing, as usual."
"Maybe we should use the Hexad, jump to when these things were invented, see who did it, how they did it?" said Dale, downing his wine, getting up to pour another.
"I almost agree with you, almost." Amanda finished her drink and handed the glass to Dale on his way out into the kitchen.
They'd discussed it over and over, the debate going on for so long that eventually they both got bored of themselves talking about it. They should wait, was the final conclusion. Wait until it seemed like the right time, and hopefully there never would be one.
It was a terrible responsibility, knowing you had such power, but what overrode everything else was not wanting to get caught up in anything that could risk their life together — they had seen firsthand how terrible the consequences could be for unleashing Hexads into an unsuspecting world. The deaths of countless people, actual versions of herself, not to mention the trillions of people brought into existence then vanishing as realities opened and closed their infinite doors.
It didn't seem real, the numbers nothing more than abstract, but as far as they could tell i
t was what had happened, and neither of them wanted that kind of responsibility.
"Here you go," said Dale, handing Amanda her glass.
"Thanks."
They sat in silence, a nice end to what had been a long, bad day.
Soon enough, the wine was drunk and Amanda woke Dale up from where he'd fallen asleep on the sofa.
They went to bed.
Tomorrow was just going to be another day.
Caught You!
Present Day
"Dale! What are you doing?"
"Bugger, thought you were going to have a lie-in?" said Dale, looking guilty, trying to hide the trowel behind his back.
"Are you seriously trying to pretend you aren't digging up the lawn? Look at you, you're soaking wet, all muddy, and there's a hole right in front of you."
"Um, would you believe me if I told you he made me do it?" Dale pointed at the robin watching Dale digging, swooping in now and then to nab a worm that tried to make its escape.
"Oh, the robin made you do it, did it? Hold a gun to your head and said, 'Dig mister, or the sparrows get it'? Please, spare me. I thought we agreed?" Amanda tried to look without showing interest, but she was kidding herself — she hated to admit it but she was curious too.
"I know we agreed but it's just been bugging me for months. I had to look. But I'll stop, you're right, this is silly." Dale got up and brushed ineffectively at his filthy jeans. He hadn't even put his waterproofs on and the December rain had soaked right through to his skin. Amanda was always amazed at the fact that however cold it got he never seemed to feel it, wearing little more than a t-shirt whatever the weather.
"Um, hang on," said Amanda, zipping up her own waterproof, pulling the hood over her head to try to stop her hair getting soaked.
"What?"
"Maybe you should, you know, just so it's done with. Look, when we had the conversation, the night before the madness, and we said we would bury proof that time travel existed, well, we know it does, so what can the harm be?" Am I just trying to convince myself here?
"You sure?" Dale stared into the shallow hole he'd dug, as if waiting for something to suddenly appear. The robin jumped in and grabbed a worm before retreating into the hedge to eat its prize in the dry.
"No, not really. But at least it will be over with. I don't know how many times I've looked at this damn spot, it must be thousands by now." It was impossible not to glance at it whenever she walked into the garden, or gazed out of the kitchen window — there it was, an innocuous patch of grass that taunted her with its hidden secrets.
"Haha, I know what you mean. I don't even walk over it in case I do something I shouldn't. Silly, eh?"
"Sensible, more like."
"Okay, here I go then." Dale got back on his knees and continued to use the trowel.
Amanda stood in the rain and watched as Dale dug deeper, the sodden earth coming out in small clumps before breaking up as he dumped it onto the lawn. It was ridiculous, she knew it, as whatever they dug up would mean little since they already knew time travel was possible. Still, it was the fact that something was supposed to be there. It was unfinished business and it irked her no end not knowing exactly what it was.
Clunk.
"There's something here," said Dale, tapping again with the tip of the trowel.
"What is it?" Amanda peered into the hole, but there was nothing to see but wet soil.
"Dunno, hang on." Dale dug around the item in the hole then put his hands in and pulled out what looked like a tin of her favorite chocolates: Quality Street. Dale held it up to her as if he was expecting her to reveal all the secrets.
"Don't look at me," shrugged Amanda. "I wouldn't go burying it. I guess this is it, the proof."
Dale shook the tin but it sounded empty. Then he did it again, putting an ear close to the dirty metal. "It sounds like there might be something inside, but it's hard to tell with all the rain. Come on, let's get it inside. I'm soaking and I'm getting cold."
"Wow! You, getting cold? That's a first. Here, let me." Amanda held out a hand; Dale gave her the tin. With the hole forgotten, and the trowel left on the grass, they made their way down the garden. After taking off their shoes they went into the kitchen, alternately smiling and frowning at each other, not knowing whether to be excited, terrified, or both.
Dale rinsed his hands under the tap; Amanda washed the tin and her own hands. Neither of them said a word, just stood staring at the brightly colored metal after she dried it then placed it on the counter top. She knew she was out of sorts as there was no way she would ever normally use a tea towel for anything but drying the dishes.
"Amanda, do you think we should?" asked Dale, watching the tin like it could explode at any moment.
"No, not really. Tellan said we weren't to dig it up, that we were just to put things right, do what we did, and to leave well enough alone."
"So we should do that, right? At least we've dug up proof, that's enough now, isn't it?"
"I suppose so, although this isn't proof of anything, is it? It's just a tin."
"Yeah but we put it there, in the past."
"If we did that, and we... Oh! Oh, no!" Realization swept over Amanda in a sickening wave. Her guts churned, she went hot, then cold, then hot again. She still had her coat on; it made her feel like she was buried alive. She stripped it off in a panic and rain droplets splashed all over the floor. She just stood there, staring at the tin, holding her coat, knowing they had done something terrible.
"What? What is it?" Dale looked around the kitchen frantically, wondering what had freaked Amanda out so much.
"We've messed up, we've messed up big time."
"What, the tin you mean? So what, we dug it up? It doesn't matter."
"This is why Tellan said not to go digging, to leave well alone. We've dug it up, so now we know it's there. Was there, I mean."
"Yeah, so? Look, it's just a tin." Dale picked it up and shook it. They both heard the rustling inside, the sound that had been almost imperceptible outside.
"Dale, you don't get it, do you?" Dale shook his head and began to prize the lid off. "No, wait. Look, put it down a minute will you? I need to think. I need to talk to you."
Dale put the tin down, hair dripping water. "Okay, just let me get changed. If we're gonna have a chat then I need to towel my hair and get some dry things on."
"Okay, I don't suppose it matters now anyway. It's too late, there's no hurry."
Dale stared at Amanda, clearly confused. "Hold that thought, I'll be back soon. You okay, babe?"
"Yes. No. Oh, I don't know. I think we messed up, Dale, like, really, really messed up."
"We can't have done anything worse than what we did a few months ago. What we stopped happening. Just wait, okay?"
Amanda nodded and Dale left to dry himself off. She gave the tin an evil stare and went to hang up her coat.
~~~
The tin, dry and clean, was on the Ercol coffee table. Amanda and Dale sat on the floor, staring at it as though it held the answer to everything and was also the harbinger of their doom.
"Okay, what's all this about?" asked Dale. "What do you think has gone wrong just because we dug this up?"
"I think we better open it first, just to make sure I'm right. It won't make any difference now, not now we've dug it up anyway."
"Okay," said Dale warily, looking as nervous as Amanda felt. "You know you're freaking me out, right?"
"Haha, sorry. But I am freaked out, and you will be, properly, once I tell you what I think we've done."
With a look of utter confusion, Dale picked up the tin and prized the lid off with a struggle. "Damn, why do they make these things so hard to open?"
"Chocolates are always worth a battle. It makes you feel better if it involves a little work."
"Ah, got it." The lid came off with a pop. A piece of paper fell to the carpet. Dale picked up the scrap. It looked to Amanda like it was torn from one of the notepads they kept in the kitchen drawer for makin
g lists for groceries.
"What's it say?" Amanda tried to peer over Dale's shoulder but he got up and put the note flat to his chest.
"Before I read it, what's this all about, Amanda? Am I going to make it worse just by reading this?" Dale put a hand through his still-damp hair, brushing it away from his eyes.
I guess I may as well tell him, as long as I'm right, that is. Amanda chewed on her bottom lip, not even realizing. She looked out of the living room window, hating the depressingly low cloud, the drizzle. What she wouldn't give for the bright days of summer. She noticed that the windows needed a clean — how did they get so smudged on the inside? It was like they had a dog that slobbered all over them or something.
"Amanda? Hey, hey."
"Oh, sorry, I was miles away. Okay, look, we've dug up this tin, right?" Dale nodded, the hand holding the note moved to his side. "And there's a note. So, we've proved to ourselves that time travel exists at some point in the future, so we send a note back to ourselves."
"So? We know it exists, we did it. We jumped."
"Yes, but we were done with it all, right? We did what Tellan asked of us and ensured that the other us finished what they started and put the Universe to rights. But now..."
"Now what? Come on, you're making me really nervous here."
"Now we have to time travel again. At least two jumps."
"What! Why? No way, I'm not going to risk messing up entire worlds or anything."
"We have to, don't you see? We've given ourselves no choice."
Dale stared at Amanda, face a mask of confusion, then he stared first at the note, then at the tin. "Aw, shit. I get it. We buried this tin and the note, so, well, so we have to jump to make sure we bury it now, right?"
"Exactly. We do it in the future so that means we have to. We have to take a tin and write whatever is on that note and jump back in time so we can find it like we just did. We messed up."
