The Pocket Watch

by Michael Shaw

  “Which is why you’re trying to load a .45 caliber bullet into a .41 caliber gun,” he replied.

  I opened my mouth, but I had no response.

  “I’ve got a better idea.” Hunter reached into his pockets. He nodded his head at me. “Take a step back.”

  “What?”

  “Trust me, you’ll want to see this before I have to use it.”

  I didn’t know what he meant, but I backed up for him anyway. He had helped me thus far.

  Hunter’s hands emerged from his pockets. A fingerless glove now covered one of them. Tight and gray. His fingers dangled. “Watch this.” He held his hand out toward the ground, with his palm up, as though he were helping his hand out to pick someone up.

  This was ridiculous. “Hunter, what are you-”

  The sound of metal bouncing stopped me short. I traced my eyes from his hand to the ground. The bullet I had just dropped rolled toward him. It ran all the way up to his foot, stopping when he lowered his hand.

  I stared, unmoving.

  He turned to look at me. “Cool, right?”

  I blinked. “Is . . Is that-”

  He walked up to me. “Courtesy of Eclipse.”

  “Tell me that’s not just a trick,” I marveled, eyes on the glove.

  “Look at it.” He lifted his palm up to me. All I could see was a small black device adhered to the glove. “This…” He put his finger on it. “This gets a signal from this.” He turned his head to the side and pointed to his neck. A similar black box was sown into the back.

  “Hunter,” I backed up from him. “How long have you had-”

  “It’s completely safe, Jon,” he said with satisfaction. “Not enough power to lift things yet, but it can provide quite a bit of force.”

  I looked down next to his feet. My eyes fixed on the bullet that had just run across the ground.

  “I’ve just been getting the hang of it,” he beamed. “I feel like Magneto or something.”

  “Magneto?”

  “X Men,” he smirked. “It’s a Marvel thing.”

  “I like DC.”

  The sound of a door opening caught my ear. I shoved the gun back in my pants and headed out of the alleyway.

  Hunter followed. “Wait. What’s your plan?”

  “Be ready to use that thing.” I emerged from the alleyway and onto the sidewalk. We came out from the darkness and into the light shining down from lamp posts and bar signs. The street was busy now; it was Friday, after all. Two men emerged from the front of Rigby’s, engaging in focused conversation.

  “That’s the guy,” Hunter said, coming up behind me.

  He and I found ourselves in the middle of the sidewalk, getting bumped and pushed by all the bodies walking back and forth.

  “The guy in the red.” He pointed back at the two men. “That’s the one.”

  He and the other man had separated. The suspect turned and walked away from our direction toward one of the street corners.

  “Come on.” I shoved through the people walking by, trying not to lose him.

  Hunter followed. We were going against traffic; for some reason everyone wanted to go in the opposite direction. Looking to my left, I saw a completely busy street. No room to circumvent the people. I kept pushing through and tried to maintain sight of him. Red shirt. Red shirt.

  I spotted him just ahead. “I still see him.” A sense of urgency grew within me. From behind, he looked like he could be the man. But I couldn’t know until I got a full look at him.

  “Jon,” Hunter cautioned from behind. He had to say it loudly over the activity on the street and sidewalk.

  I didn’t listen. I pursued the man with increasing pace.

  He stopped at the street corner.

  I was almost to him. The people around gave me annoyed looks as I shoved past them.

  The man in the red shirt faced toward the other side of the street. He was about to cross.

  I grabbed his shoulder and turned him toward me.

  “Hey!” He pushed my hand off.

  I tried to look at his face, but he turned around too quickly.

  I grabbed him and turned his shoulders around so he’d face me once more. I looked him eye to eye and saw a scar. But it wasn’t the guy. The second I saw his face, I knew it was the wrong one.

  After that one second, he shoved me backward. “Back off, kid.”

  “Hey!” Hunter came between us and shoved him, not knowing it was the wrong guy.

  The man in red reached his hands back to push Hunter, but then he froze. His arms bent, palms pointed toward Hunter. They were stuck in their position.

  I looked down and saw Hunter’s hand lifted. He wore the glove. In that moment he proved that he really did have telekinesis, and he was using it on the man in front of us.

  The man in red shook, as though pushing against something. His arms tensed and flexed.

  Hunter tilted his hand forward.

  The guy stumbled back and almost tripped. But he caught himself, confused and daunted. His eyes went to me, then back to Hunter.

  “He’s not the guy,” I murmured.

  Hunter lowered his hand, and the man walked away sheepishly.

  My phone rang.

  I took a staggered step back and pulled it out. “How’d you know it wasn’t the one?” Hunter asked.

  “The killer’s scar went from the top left of his face to the bottom right. This guy’s went top right to bottom left.” I answered the phone. “Hello?”

  Hunter followed me as I walked away to find a quieter place to hear. “So,” he said, “do you mean your left or his?”

  I held my hand up. “Hello?”

  “Jon?” Alex said.

  “Hey Alex.”

  “Could you come over here?” His voice was restless. Almost out of breath.

  “Your house? Sure, I could try to-”

  “Actually,” he cut in quickly, “I’m - I’m not at my house.”

  “Oh, okay. Where are you?”

  He hesitated. I listened for his voice on the other line.

  Finally, he let out an exasperated breath.

  “I’m at the hospital.”

  ∞

  I was still standing when the flash ended. Standing, in a dark room. My room, at my house. Facing the picture frame on the dresser. The ticking of the watch in my hand resounded within my ears.

  I closed my eyes. It didn’t work. I looked down at the pocket watch to close it up. But then I saw it. 10:50 pm. I had set it back from 10:52 to 10:50.

  I held my breath. Slowly, I turned around, my feet lightly touching the carpet. Across from me, sitting on the bed, with his back to me, was myself. I was looking at myself. Sitting there. Head down. Fingers around the pocket watch.

  I swallowed and tried to stay silent. If I was there on the bed, and this was two minutes in the past, then that meant that in two minutes he would turn around and walk to where I was. What happens if you see your double? I thought. What happens if I see myself?

  The door wasn’t an option. It would make noise. Not knowing what else to do, I ducked down to hide under the bed. My foot bumped the dresser in the process, causing the picture frame to fall off.

  I pulled myself underneath the bed. Clumsy… I heard my past self stand, and I looked at the time. Just a minute away from when I travelled back.

  His footsteps went from his side of the bed, around the front, and to the dresser.

  I remained silent as I saw his feet come into view.

  He bent over and picked up the picture.

  I held my breath and watched. I focused on his feet, and I tried not to move.

  He vanished.

  I blinked. He was gone. I looked at the time. 10:52 and one second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

  I exhaled. Reaching my hand onto the carpet, I slid myself out and up from under the bed. The frame was back on the dresser; my past self, myself, had put it there. And now, he had just pressed the button, would experience the flash, and go back to 10:5
0 pm. I ran my hand through my hair. The pocket watch ticked on just like any other normal clock. I closed it, and I couldn’t help but laugh a little. I just time traveled.

  The feeling of awe and relief was overpowered by the effects. Pausing time was one thing, and it had its own repercussions. Now, I had gone back in time. And it made a difference. Once my double pressed the button, I felt it.

  The headache, even worse. The nausea, exponentially greater. The ringing, loud. I stumbled into the bathroom, disoriented.

  My hand fiddled for the light, and my ears started to throb. I put my right hand up to one ear. The noise grew louder and louder. When my hand held the side of my head, it felt something wet.

  My fingers finally found the light switch. I looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were as red as ever. But this time, the sides of my face were red too. Blood went from my ear drums down the sides of my face.

  I reached for a towel.

  The blood had gone down to my jaw. I wet the towel and wiped my face off. The ringing went away, but the blood remained for me to clean up.

  My insides curled. I gripped the sides of the sink and hunched over. No. Don’t. Not again. I gagged a few times. My eyes clenched shut, and the pictures filled my vision. Hunter. My chase for my parents’ killer. And I pictured Alex, our conversation, and his warning to me about the watch.

  Sometimes, I felt that I was just driving down a road that had been paved by another. Everything I did was because of someone else. My father's legacy. My friends’ advice, or coercion. The expectations put on me. I couldn’t help but wonder, what if it had been different? Even just a little?

  What if. The mind’s deadliest question. The second that “what if“ is thought, the mind begins a journey with an innocent beginning, and often times, no definite end. But now, I had a definite end. I had an answer to the question “what if.” I had a way to change things. I had a way to change everything.

  ∞

  I woke up more tired than I was before I went to sleep. My eyes cracked open and I stretched. My fingers remained curled. They wouldn’t even budge. I rolled over and looked into my hand.

  The pocket watch. Tight in my grasp.

  I threw it down. It pulled at my skin as I released it. I gripped my wrist and rolled over onto my back. It burned. Bright, fiery pain. I decided that I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I needed something for my hand. Something to treat it. But how could I get help from anyone without revealing how I got the burns? I checked the time. 11:00 am. I slid out of bed. Really? Did I really just sleep that long? What did I do that could have… I looked down at the floor. The pocket watch. I sighed and leaned my head against the bed. Interview’s in two hours. I have to focus now.

  I showered up and got dressed in my slacks and sports coat. The sleeve covered my arm. I did my best to help my right hand by washing it up, and I put the watch in my pocket. In less than two hours, my future would begin.

  If only I could forget about the past.

  ∞

  Sitting. Waiting. Tapping my feet. Checking the watch. Tapping my feet. Checking the watch. I had told Alex that I wasn’t nervous, but now that I was actually here, it felt different.

  David Kemp, the guy from the phone, had greeted me and shown me where to wait. He looked about five years older than me. He was nice; that is, the through-the-teeth, forced kind of nice.

  I checked the time on my watch constantly. There were a few other interviews today, but Alex’s was later in the afternoon, if I remembered correctly.

  2:01 pm. I closed the watch and waited quietly. It rested in my hand. A few more minutes passed, and nothing happened. I just tried to stay calm.

  Eventually, David peered out from the interview room. He opened his mouth, made eye contact with me, and looked as though he were about to call me. But his eyes caught the pocket watch, just as I was checking it one more time.

  When I put it in my pocket, he looked back at me. Suddenly, he disappeared back into the room.

  I tilted my head. What was that about? Five more minutes passed before he emerged again. “Jonathan Ashe?” He called as though nothing had happened.

  I stood up and entered the room. David and two other men sat at a large desk, in front of which sat a chair for me. One of the three men was older, the other about David’s age.

  Great, I sat down, a panel.

  ∞

  The older man asked me a few questions. He introduced himself as Howard Miller, and the other young man with David Kemp was named Jacob Richards. It was the typical run-through: a bit of small talk, followed by immediate questions about me, some generic interview questions, then more specific topics pertaining to the company and what I hoped to do there. I thought it was going well, but there was an uncomfortable air in the room. All three of the men in front of me shared glances here and there.

  “So, Jon,” Howard said, his voice deep and smooth. He held some of my blueprints. “We’ve seen your plans on tightening the Mark identification printers and scanners. Very impressive.” He lowered the papers, “But this doesn’t pertain to Luna. You know that.”

  I nodded. “Yes sir, it was just to show the mechanics behind-”

  “Anyway, these other models look quite promising.” He held a couple other papers up. “We just have a couple more questions to ask you.”

  My hands stayed folded in my lap, a bit of a tremor in them.

  He gathered my papers back into the folder I’d given them. The other two, David and Jacob, shared another pointed glance.

  Howard took a long, deep breath.

  In the corner of my eye, I saw David staring right at me.

  “Jon,” Howard sighed, “have you ever been in possession of unpublished or undisclosed Luna property?”

  I opened my mouth, “I…” The question caught me off guard. It certainly wasn’t the thing I’d expect to be asked in an interview. “No. Of course not.”

  “Have you ever taken acquisition of any intellectual property or patented material of Luna Corporation or-”

  “No, no.” The tremor in my hands increased. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand; is this a question that all potential employees have to-”

  “Mr. Ashe,” David cut in, “what’s in your pocket?”

  My lip shook. “I… What?”

  Jacob, who had been generally quiet, stood up and walked to the door. I followed him with my eyes until he stood behind me. He remained stationed between me and the door.

  “Show us what you have in your pocket, Jon.” Howard closed the folder.

  David had seen the pocket watch. He had seen it before I came in for the interview. It doesn’t make sense, I thought. This was my father’s; Luna never patented it. And why would they? They’re a computer company.

  “Quite a burn you have there,” David nodded at my hand. “How’d you get it?”

  I gripped the arm rests. Finally, I took the pocket watch out and held it in my hand.

  “We need you to give that to us, Jon,” Howard nodded.

  David stood up.

  I stood as well. “This was my father’s. Luna never released it.”

  “We thought it was destroyed.” Howard pulled out a drawer and put my folder into it. “Your father stole the prototype from us.”

  “Really?” I gripped it tighter, remembering the label on the watch. “My best invention yet - George Ashe.” These people were lying. “Are you going to claim I stole those, too?” I nodded toward the drawer in which he had just stored my designs.

  Behind me, I heard a noise. Jacob locked the door.

  I slid my finger to rest over the button. “What’s going on here?”

  David took a step out from behind the desk, and another toward me. “The device you are holding is very dangerous. Unstable. It was taken from us. All we need is for you to give it back.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  David nodded toward Jacob.

  I turned just in time to see him taking something out of his suit jacket. My eyes popped
open wide.

  A silenced pistol. He whipped it out at me.

  I ducked and pressed the button. Just as I did, the gun fired.

  Chapter 6

  A flash of light. Ringing in my head. All worse than they ever had been. But there was also something else.

  Adrenaline.

  I sat there, staring at a bullet. He had aimed for my leg. To incapacitate me, it seemed. I immediately jumped to my feet and unlocked the door. No. This can’t be happening. This can’t be… I turned and looked at them, all frozen in the room. Howard, stoic and arms folded. David, reaching in his suit coat to pull out his own pistol. I shut the door behind me. What’s going on?

  I ran through the waiting room, out through the hallway, and past everything and everyone. Past all the elevators, all the slick modern art, and all the people mid-step, mid-conversation, mid-thought. Everything was frozen. I ran as fast as I could into the large lobby. Screens on the wall. Light-up panels on the floor. I saw it all as I ran, realizing I would never work in the place I had set my future on.

  I made my way for one of the many glass doors across the entrance wall. Once I was close enough, I decided to bring time back so I could get lost in the crowd of people. There were enough of them outside the door, walking back and forth on the sidewalk. The Luna building was on a busy street. I’d have no problem making myself invisible.

  I grit my teeth and pressed the button. Another flash. Another jolt. More adrenaline. I burst through the door. Right after I did, I bumped into someone, knocking him over.

  “Oh, sorry.”

  It was Alex.

  He and I shared an odd moment of eye contact. When he realized that it was me, he smiled. “In a hurry,, Jon?” He laughed.

  I helped him up. “Yeah, actually, I need to get…” My voice trailed off, and I looked in the direction of my car.

  “Hey, are you okay?” He reached up to my ear. “You’ve got blood on your-”

  I flinched and held my hand up to the side of my face. “I have to get out of here.” I turned and kept going down the sidewalk, even more quickly now.

  “I’ll see you after my interview?” Alex called.