by Jason Ayres
“Fine,” he replied. He had no intention of coming back here in this time or any other. The peculiar events of the last few hours had taken the edge off his desire to go travelling for a while. Suddenly the thought of getting back home and going off on a long holiday with Alice seemed quite appealing after all.
Gathering his stuff together, he got ready to leave, under the ever-scowling gaze of the man opposite.
“Bye, mate,” he said cheerily as he made his way to the door.
“You’re no mate of mine” was the predictable, growled response.
“Whatever,” replied Josh, as he exited the room, thankful to be finally away from the horrible man.
Ten minutes later he was standing in front of a white, wooden door with a simple metal plate announcing “Security” on it. Psyching himself up, he knocked on the door, hoping that Barry would not turn out to be the ogre that he feared.
Those hopes were swiftly dashed. The door was flung open, and a large, ruddy-faced and thickset man in his late-fifties stood glowering at him beneath a mop of thick, white hair. He was holding half a fruit scone, generously laden with jam and cream, in his right hand.
“What the bloody hell do you want?” bellowed the man. “Don’t you know I’m having my tea break?”
“Sorry,” said Josh, immediately put onto the back foot. “Are you Barry? I was just hoping I could get my stuff. I was brought in last night and some things were sent down here for safe keeping.”
“Oh, you’re the terrorist from level 6, aren’t you?” said Barry, eyeing him up suspiciously. “Yes, I’ve got your card well and truly marked, son.”
“Do I look like a terrorist?” asked Josh, wondering why the man felt the need to call him ‘son’. He couldn’t have been more than five years older than him, at most.
“Who can tell these days?” asked Barry. “Don’t you watch the news? I spent time in Iraq and Afghanistan, you know. That was no picnic, I can tell you. You can’t let your guard down for a second. Trust no one, that’s my motto.”
“I thought that was The X-Files,” suggested Josh, a little cheekily.
“Don’t get clever with me, lad,” replied Barry. “You’re up to no good, I reckon. I can tell a wrong ’un a mile off.”
“Oh, yes, and what makes me a wrong ’un?” asked Josh, feeling frustrated at this man making judgements about him on the very scant evidence he had.
“I don’t like the look of you, that’s what,” said Barry, looking him up and down as he wolfed down the last piece of his scone.
Josh couldn’t see what could possibly identify himself as a wrong ’un, but clearly Barry had made up his mind. He would just have to try and reason with the man.
Attempting to appeal to his better nature, Josh said, “Well, I’m sorry about that. But I can assure you I’m not a terrorist. If you just give me my things, I’ll get out of your hair. Then you can get back to your tea break.”
Judging by the plates of biscuits and cakes on the table, Barry clearly made the most of his breaks. Unfortunately, Josh’s attempt at reason had no effect.
“Oh no?” asked Barry. “Well, if you’re not a terrorist, what’s this?” Reaching into a drawer, he pulled out the tachyometer.
Relieved as he was to see it, Josh still needed to get his hands on it. Barry was a big bloke, a little on the chubby side, no doubt from all the cakes and biscuits, but muscular with it. Then there was his Army training to consider. Josh really didn’t fancy his chances wrestling with him to try and get it back. He would have to try and talk his way out of this situation.
“Radiation detector,” he bluffed. “I was here checking out background levels of radon – health and safety and all that.”
“Really?” said Barry, in an unconvinced tone. “Are you sure it’s not some sort of remote device to set off a bomb. That’s what it looks like to me.”
“And you would know, would you?” asked Josh, getting irritated.
“As a matter of fact, I would,” replied Barry. “That’s what I was doing in Iraq. Bomb disposal squad – a nasty job but someone’s got to do it.”
Josh couldn’t disagree with that. Despite Barry’s somewhat irritating persona, he felt a surge of respect for the man who had carried out such a dangerous job.
“It’s nothing like that,” he replied. “I think you’re letting your imagination run wild.”
“In that case, you won’t mind if I press a few of these buttons,” said Barry.
“Please don’t,” pleaded Josh, horrified. If Barry accidentally activated it and created a bubble he could vanish with it, leaving Josh stranded.
“Relax,” said Barry, pushing a few buttons. “The thing’s knackered anyway. It doesn’t work – see? I had a good play with it before you came down.”
He tossed the tachyometer across to Josh, who glanced at it to see that the red power light was glowing, indicating that the device was not fully charged. There didn’t seem to be any other activity – the other buttons were not lit up and neither was the display. Relieved as he was to get it back, this didn’t bode well.
“Thank you,” he replied, stuffing it in his backpack with the intention of examining it later. “You didn’t really think it was a detonator, did you?”
“Of course not,” said Barry, who then unexpectedly burst out laughing. “I wouldn’t have lasted long in Iraq if I’d started fiddling about like that with every device I came across, would I?”
“No, I suppose not,” replied Josh.
“Had you going for a bit there, though, didn’t I?” added Barry, laughing. “You people are so easy to wind up.”
Josh felt a little more at ease thanks to this sudden change in character. This Barry clearly saw himself as a bit of a character, so he may as well try and flatter his ego.
“Ha-ha, good one,” replied Josh. “Yeah, you certainly caught me out there. Now then, if you’ll just let me have my wallet, I’ll be on my way.”
“Not so fast, lad,” replied Barry. “Obviously I had to look through your wallet to verify your identity, and there are one or two things I think we need to talk about it.”
As he spoke, he reached into a drawer below his desk with his right hand, taking the opportunity with his left hand to take a jam sandwich cream from the plate above. Stuffing the whole biscuit into his mouth in one go, he produced Josh’s wallet from the drawer.
“Oh, not this again,” replied Josh. “I’ve already been over all this with Carmen upstairs.”
He’d have to think fast and come up with some sort of explanation. Attempting to pre-empt Barry, he said, “Look, that’s not a real licence, OK? I’m a designer on a sci-fi TV series set in the future and that’s a prop I’m working on for the main character.”
It was a lame excuse, but surprisingly Barry didn’t question it. He seemed more interested in the money. “So what’s with all the cash, then?”
Maybe Josh could try another tack.
“Look, Barry,” he said. “I can’t imagine this job pays that well. How about…”
Barry cut him off before he could finish, moving a couple of paces closer to Josh and invading his personal space. Bristling with apparent anger, even redder in the face than before he almost shouted at point-blank range into his face, “Are you trying to offer me a bribe?!”
Josh was seriously taken aback by yet another sudden switch in personality and immediately began to backtrack. “Err, no of course not…”
“And why not?” said Barry, instantly dropping the belligerent persona and roaring with laughter again. Josh was finding Barry’s unpredictable behaviour seriously irksome.
Holding out the wallet in front of him and opening it, Barry added, “Here, shall we call it a hundred?”
He peeled off two fifty-pound notes, and then handed the wallet back over to Josh.
“Got you going again, didn’t I?” said Barry, seemingly very pleased with himself. “Bet that shit you up a bit.”
“You enjoy this job, don’t you?” asked
Josh, quickly pocketing the wallet.
“Absolutely love it,” replied Barry. “Can you tell?”
“Just a bit,” replied Josh. “Can I go now, then?”
“Almost,” said Barry. “You just have to sign for these things.” He handed Josh a form with a list of the items, including the tachyometer which Barry had labelled as ‘Electric toothbrush’. The cash from the wallet was also itemised at £1900.
“You’ll notice I’ve accounted for my cut of the cash already,” said Barry.
Eager to get out as quickly as possible, Josh signed the form, and dated it 2nd January 2025.
“You’re getting ahead of yourself, sunshine,” said Barry. “Don’t tell me, you’re one of those people who used to post-date cheques. It’s only December 31st.”
Of course, it would be, thought Josh. He had set the tachyometer to go two days back in time just before the incident in Scott’s room. At least it had done what it was supposed to do – perhaps it was still working, after all.
“Sorry,” he replied, scrubbing out the date and writing 31st December 2024 instead. “I must still be a bit woozy from the fall.”
“Perhaps you had better go careful,” replied Barry. “We don’t want you having any more accidents, do we?” This was said with an air of menace in his voice, that Josh couldn’t work out was genuine, or just Barry playing another one of his games.
“No, we don’t,” he replied.
“Good lad,” said Barry. “I suggest you keep your distance from this place for a while.”
“Don’t worry, I will,” replied Josh, and he meant it. He had seen enough of the hospital over the past few hours to last a lifetime.
“I’m pleased to hear it,” replied the beefy security guard.
He wasn’t so bad, really, thought Josh. Theirs had been a strange and brief encounter, but he couldn’t deny it had been a memorable one.
“Well, Barry, it’s been an absolute pleasure,” he said, holding out his hand.
“I’d love to say the same,” replied Barry, ignoring the gesture. “But my tea’s been going cold while I’ve been dealing with you which means I’m going to have to go up to the League of Friends and get another one. So if you could kindly bugger off now, that would be greatly appreciated.”
Thankful to have all his belongings intact, Josh was happy to oblige. Safely out of Barry’s lair, he made his way down the corridor towards the exit. Once he was safely clear of the hospital he would try and figure out what to do next.
Chapter Ten
December 2024
It was mid-afternoon and Josh was safely ensconced in his bedroom in a travel tavern, just off the Oxford Ring Road.
He had booked himself into this modest hotel because he wanted somewhere out of the way to think things through. He also needed time to investigate what had happened to the tachyometer. Most importantly of all, it was cheap.
There was a possibility he could be stuck here for a while and he wasn’t about to fritter away the funds he had on a posh hotel in central Oxford. If the tachyometer was out of action, he had to look after the money he had.
Until he knew for certain what his situation was, he was going to have to do everything on the cheap, including hotels, food and transport. He had already started on this regime by taking the park and ride bus to the hotel, rather than a taxi.
The inside of the room was seriously depressing. It was small, even for a budget hotel, and the décor wasn’t exactly inspiring. The curtains were a vertical mix of green, brown and cream stripes, with a bedspread to match.
The gap between the curtains revealed the grey and drizzly skies outside. It was only the middle of the afternoon, but daylight was already beginning to fade. Josh had always hated the early sunsets at this time of year.
The walls were a dull cream colour and the TV was practically an antique, even by the standards of this time period. It was just a simple, 32-inch, flat-screen model.
Everything else was exactly what you would expect from this sort of hotel room, right down to the Corby trouser press, something that seemed to be omnipresent in every hotel he had ever stayed in. He had never used one.
He was thirsty and craved a cup of coffee, but the cheap, plastic kettle, also standard issue in this type of hotel, was taking forever to boil. While he waited, he turned on the TV and idly flicked through the first few channels on the list.
There was a daytime quiz show Josh hadn’t seen for years that involved opening giant eggcups to reveal amounts of money inside. On another channel there was one of the old Carry On films, full of innuendo. He remembered that his father used to love them.
Next he found some daytime chat show which annoyed him after about five seconds due to the screeching, hysterical audience. What was it people always said? TV was better in the old days? Not on this evidence, it wasn’t.
He hadn’t switched on the TV to watch this tat. He needed to find the news channel. He knew he had gone back in time two days, but he wanted to see if there were any external signs of change in the world around him. Was he in an identical universe to the one he had left? He hadn’t noticed any changes in the world around him since he had left the hospital, which was encouraging.
Eventually he found Sky News and watched it for a couple of minutes as the kettle began to emit a low hiss. At last it had managed to haul the water within up to boiling temperature.
He watched the TV for another couple of minutes, and then poured himself a cheap, nasty cup of coffee, complete with UHT milk. The cup didn’t look particularly clean and he wondered if it had ever seen the inside of a dishwasher.
He had worked for a few weeks in a hotel one summer when he was a student. Standard procedure then was to just rinse them under the bathroom tap and dry them on a towel. Mindful of this, he gave his cup a thorough wash under the hot tap in the bathroom, using a complimentary sachet of shower gel.
What he had seen on the news was reassuringly normal. There certainly wasn’t anything to suggest he was in a radically different universe, so now he turned his attention to the tachyometer. He needed to find out why it seemingly hadn’t been working in Barry’s hands.
It had been safely tucked away in his backpack since leaving the hospital, despite his desperate desire to examine it properly. Resisting the temptation had been difficult, but he knew that taking it out in public was too risky.
He turned the TV off, opened up his backpack, pulled out the tachyometer and had a good look at it. There didn’t seem to be any obvious signs of external damage, but the power on button refused to work. Normally when he pressed it, the display panel would light up and its small screen would give him all the information he needed. It would give him details of the date, time, location and the current universe he was in. It was also where he entered the details for the destination of his next jump.
The power indicator on the end would also turn green, informing him that the device was sufficiently powered to open a time bubble. Right now, the light on the end remained stubbornly red. This was better than there being no light at all. At least it didn’t mean it was completely dead. Red meant it was charging, but it should not take anything like this long. Usually it was a few minutes at most. But now it was over twelve hours since the incident had occurred.
And what exactly had occurred? He had seen another Josh appear in the room and seemingly they had both attempted to create a time bubble in the same space at the same time. That was what seemed to have created the weird mirror effect he had seen, with what looked like infinite universes reflecting all around him.
One thing was glaringly obvious. It seemed almost certain that Josh had caused the very event he had gone to investigate. Another Josh, similarly curious, from another universe had clearly had the same idea and together they had created the unique circumstances that caused reality to splinter the way it had.
If time really had fractured, then all those multiple images would certainly account for the huge number of new universes that seemed to have b
een created on that day.
What other strange effects had this event had? What about Thomas Scott, the man who had ended up living his life backwards, one day at a time? That surely had to be down to what had happened in that room. And what had happened to Amy? Where had she ended up? Was she even still alive? Perhaps he ought to try and track her down and find out.
He decided to try and forget about all those questions for the moment to concentrate on his own predicament, which had thrown up enough questions of its own.
What was he going to do now? Was the tachyometer permanently out of action, and if so, what could he do about it? Could he fix it? Was there anyone here in this time that could help him? Could he get a message to his future self in this world or any other to come to his rescue?
And why hadn’t Alice come to help him, as they had arranged?
There was no end to these questions. He lay down on the bed, exhausted from all the thoughts whirling around his head. Soon he fell asleep, dozing fitfully as his subconscious mind tried to make sense of his current situation. Just like Alice and Lauren before him, he found himself experiencing a series of bizarre and lifelike dreams of other worlds and other times.
He wasn’t normally one for falling asleep in the middle of the day, but jumping around in time so much had messed up his body clock. He was suffering from the time travel equivalent of jetlag.
It was dark when he awoke but there was a light in the room. It was a very welcome green glow coming from the bedside table that he recognised right away. The tachyometer was charged up! He could get home!
He fumbled for the light switch beside the bed, illuminating the room with the bedside lamp behind the table. Quickly he picked up his device and examined it.
The green light might be on, but his heart sank when he pushed the button to turn on the display and the screen remained stubbornly dark.
What was he to do now? How could he programme the device with no display? And was it even working? There was only one way to find out. He was going to have to try and create a bubble and risk stepping through it. It was the time-travelling equivalent of trying to fly a plane blindfold, but it was either that or risk being stuck in this place and time forever.
