“How should I know?”
Frustration still lingering in her eyes, she turned, “You claim to be from the future, so tell me, do they beat these Windy City bastards?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t bothered to commit every game in history to memory.”
“Then what good are you?” she joked through her frustration.
Searching his brain for anything to offer, “wait, 1991, this is the year Clemens wins the Cy Young!”
The anger evaporating from her face, replaced by excitement, “Oh yeah? He’s my father’s favorite player. So the Sox must do good this year. Do they break the curse?”
He wasn’t sure if her excitement was a sign that she was starting to believe his story or just a frustrated fan grasping for any hope of one day seeing a World Series title come back to Boston. “No,” he reluctantly delivered the bad news. “They fall apart late in the season. I think the Twins take it this year.”
“The Twins? Now I know you’re making this up. Who do they face, the Braves?” she laughed.
“Actually...”
“No,” she stared at him shocked, before letting the smile push its way back to her pretty face. “You know, I don’t know if you actually believe this time thing or not. You seem so put together, mentally at least,” she gave his disheveled appearance a once over.
“Thanks?” He didn’t know how to take the comment.
“I mean, I know how crazy the whole thing sounds and how impossible it is, but you seem so convinced,” she stared into his eyes as if searching his soul for the truth.
A bit uncomfortable by the penetrating stare and spotting a Coke vender making his way up the other side of the section, he quickly raised his hand to get the young kid’s attention before remembering his lack of cash.
Looking at Derek’s face and then turning to see the soda kid making his way toward their row, Sarah knew exactly what he was thinking.
“That’s okay. I’ve got it,” she insisted, pulling money from her pocket.
“No, really. I forgot that I—”
“—No, it’s no big deal. I’m actually kind of thirsty too,” she held two fingers in the air as she handed the money to the guy beside her, who handed it to the girl beside him and so on until it made its way into the vendor’s hands who traded it for two bottles.
“I’ll pay you back,” Derek insisted.
“Tell you what, prove to me that you are from, wherever you claim to be from, and we’ll call it even.”
“It would just be easier to pay you back,” Derek sighed as the two bottles arrived in their neighbor’s hands, who passed them along with a odd stare.
At first Derek didn’t know what the man was staring at until he looked at Sarah’s bottle and saw the odd paper ring loosely draped around its neck. Reaching over, Derek plucked the paper from the bottle.
Mass General Hospital
“Is that a—?”
“—Hospital ID,” Derek answered before she could even get the question out.
Looking back down the line of people in their row, “But from who,” she asked confused.
Tabitha Tillmore
“Tillmore, Tillmore,” Derek repeated the name, trying to figure out where he’d heard it before.
“Who?” Sarah, still in the dark, simply wanted to know what was happening.
“Tillmore,” Derek dug deep into his memory just as the name resurfaced. “Becky,” he mumbled.
“Who’s Becky?”
“Holy shit!” Derek exclaimed, drowned out by the crowd as Wade Boggs brought the crowd to their feet with a monstrous hit over the Green Monster.
Also jumping to his feet, Derek began frantically scanning the crowd.
With no idea what was going on, Sarah remained in her seat, staring up at her date’s ghostly complexion.
“It’s impossible. There’s no way. There was only a twelve hour window,” Derek muttered as he scanned each face around them, only stopping when he realized Sarah’s grasp on his shirt, insisting that he rejoin her in their seats.
“What’s going on?”
He didn’t know what to say. It was one thing to tell her that he was from the future. She didn’t believe it and it had proved to be an odd, but light hearted way of breaking the ice. How could he tell her that he now believed his friend, the same one that he’d claimed had killed a girl the night before and then stranded him twenty-three years in the past, had somehow figured out a way to expand the window in which he could travel and was very likely with them at this very moment in the stadium? Fun crazy was one thing. Actual crazy was a completely different story.
“We have to get out of here,” Derek insisted, trying to get to his feet but failing as Sarah again grabbed hold of his shirt and returned him to his seat.
“What’s going on?” she insisted.
Staring into her eyes he knew she wouldn’t settle for anything less than the truth, but at the same time he feared that having too much knowledge about Jason and what he suspected was going on, would only put her in danger. He already felt sick at the thought that his continued interaction with her had already put her life at risk, so looking into her eyes with intense sincerity, all he could muster was, “We have to go to the hospital.”
THIRTY-TWO
“Daddy! The video stopped again!” Abby cried from the back room.
“$2.65 is your change,” Dustin addressed the man on the opposite side of the counter as he handed him his change and slid his bag closer.
With a nod the man smiled, took his purchase and headed for the door.
“Daddy!”
“I’m coming sweetheart!” he responded to the impatient child as he made his way to the back room. “Now, what’s wrong?”
“Elmo. He’s stuck,” Abby pointed at the frozen image on the screen.
“Again,” Dustin huffed playfully. “That Elmo. I don’t know what we’re going to do with him,” he smiled, as he approached the T.V., and kneeling beside it, began talking to the choppy, still image. “Hey, Elmo. What are you doing? You’re killing me here.”
“No daddy. You have to push the buttons,” Abby laughed, pointing at the VCR on the shelf above the T.V..”
“What button? This one?” he joked, hitting the power button on the television.
“No!” the little girl giggled. “That one.”
“Oh.” Dustin stood up, pushed the play button on the VCR, then looked down at the television again.
“Daddy,” Abby mixed laughter with a hint of frustration.
“What?” he smiled coyly.
“You have to turn the T.V. back on.”
“Oh yeah. Silly me,” Dustin playfully smacked his forehead as he again knelt down to turn on the T.V., bringing back the still frozen image.
“It’s still broke.”
“You know. I think you’ve worn Elmo out,” Dustin turned to his daughter. It wasn’t a surprise. This video was her favorite. She watched it at home with her mother constantly, and whenever she came over to his apartment, she was always sure to bring it with her. So of course she’d insisted on bringing it to the store with her for the second night in a row. “How about something else?”
“No, I want to watch Elmo,” Abby whined.
“But I don’t think—”
Just as he was about to explain to her that the tape might not work anymore, Elmo decided that break time was over and began dancing and singing again to the five year old’s delight.
“Yay!” Abby celebrated as she bounced up and down and clapped at the return of her old friend.
Smiling, Dustin knelt down beside his daughter, staring at her as she excitedly watched the same show she’d seen literally hundreds of times. “I’m sorry you have to be here again tonight,” he interrupted, though couldn’t be sure that he’d actually been heard since Abby didn’t offer a response. Mommy should be here very soon.”
Abby just continued to watch the show.
“Do you think Elmo has red boogers too?” Dustin tested
to see if his daughter was listening.
Again no response.
“I bet you he does. And when he sneezes big red furry boogers fly everywhere.”
Sill no response.
“I love you,” he uttered as he stood and turned to head back to the store.
“I love you too,” Abby responded, still refusing to take her eyes off the screen. “And that’s gross.”
Little butt-head, Dustin thought as the bell to the store’s front door greeted another customer.
“I’ve got to go back to work sweetie,” Dustin informed his daughter, but again, got no response. Shaking his head, he exited the back room and returned to the store, looking for the customer who’d just entered.
At first glance the store appeared empty. There were many isles and a lot of large displays which could easily conceal someone’s presence though, so thinking nothing of it, he returned to his spot behind the counter and returned to the newspaper he’d been reading prior to helping the last customer.
Approximately twelve minutes after takeoff, Austrian Airlines Boeing 767-300 vanished from radar. Shortly after, reports of an explosion started coming in.
“There was a fireball in the sky and then a big boom,” a Thai police officer described what he’d witnessed.
There were 223 passengers and crew aboard the flight at the time of the accident, all of which are presumed dead. The pilot, Thomas Welch was an American living in Vienna at the time and...
Pausing in his reading, Dustin glanced up, curious as to the whereabouts of the mystery shopper. Even if concealed by a display, he could usually locate a lone shopper by the clinking of glass as they picked through the abundance of bottles on the busy shelves, but since the bell had declared their presence, he hadn’t heard a single sound. Shrugging he returned to the paper.
Bored with the typical stories of crime and death that the media seemed to love to print, he flipped to the sports section.
In a display of dominant superiority, the Pittsburgh Penguins trounced the Minnesota North Stars 8 - 0 to claim the Stanley Cup title in a lopsided 4 - 2 series.
Crash!
The sound of breaking glass yanked Dustin's attention away from the paper. “Son of a...,” he huffed under his breath as he folded the paper back up and returned it to the shelf below the counter. “Don’t touch it! Let me get a mop!” he yelled out to the clumsy shopper as he rounded the counter and returned to the back room where his daughter was now out of her chair and dancing along to the little red Muppet on the screen. “Having fun sweetie?” he greeted his daughter, who again either didn’t hear him or chose not to answer. Grabbing the handle of the mop, he pulled the rolling bucket from the corner and returned to the store.
“Are you okay?” Dustin addressed the customer as he wheeled the cleaning supplies to the back of the store where he was sure he’d find a little old lady or embarrassed young woman standing over the shattered spirits.
As he was growing accustom to that night, he got no response.
“What do we got here?” he asked as he rounded a large display of Grey Goose vodka, expecting the clumsy customer to be there waiting, but instead, all he was greeted by was a broken bottle, sitting in a puddle of vodka. “Hello!” he shouted as he looked around the store, but again got no response.
“They must still be here,” he thought as he left the mop in the bucket, carefully leaning the handle against a nearby shelf. The bell on the door hadn’t rang again, so there was no way that they could have left. Wandering down the back isle, looking down each isle as he passed, he wouldn’t have been surprised to find a kid cowering against a shelf, caught in the act while trying to steal the bottle of alcohol. It wouldn’t have been the first time, but as Dustin rounded the last display, the last, empty isle came into view. Confused, he stood there for a moment, wondering where the mysterious shopper could have gone before turning around and making his way back toward the bucket, checking each isle for a second time as he passed. Still no one.
“Where the hell...?” the words faded as Abby returned to mind. Quickly he turned and made his way toward the muffled, musical number emanating from the back room. The last thing he wanted to find was some strange man in there with his little girl and given that he couldn’t find the shopper anywhere else his heart began to race.
Rounding the doorway, the dancing little girl came back into view. She was alone. “Abby.”
No response.
“Abigail!” Dustin raised his voice, startling the little girl and bringing an end to her dance as she spun around to the sight of her nervous and obviously stressed father. “Have you seen anybody?”
Confused, Abby looked around the room.
“Was anyone just in here with you?” Dustin clarified.
“Just you Daddy,” Abby smiled as she returned to her video.
Completely confused as to how the mischievous shopper had managed to not only slip by him, but also allude the noisy bell above the door, Dustin turned to make his way back to the mess and in doing so, ran right into Abigail’s mother.
“Fuck!” he exclaimed, jumping back.
Startled as well, Britney White also took a step back. “Nice language,” she greeted her ex husband with her usual disdain.
“Mommy! Mommy!” Abby turned at the commotion, running toward her mother with her arms wide.
“Abby monster,” Britney knelt down, dismissing Dustin in exchange for a hug from her daughter. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too mommy. How was work?”
“Work was good. How about you? You look hard at work.”
“You know,” Abby shrugged in her typical precocious manner, drawing a smile from her mother.
“Did you break the bottle of vodka?” Dustin interrupted the mother daughter reunion.
“What?” Britney turned, the look of disgust instantly returning.
“The vodka...at the back of the store. Did you break it?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just got here,” she stared at him like he was crazy.
“Well someone was just in here and they broke a bottle at the back of the store,” he explained defensively.
“Then get a mop and clean it up.”
“I did. I mean, I was, but I couldn’t find who broke it.”
“Well maybe they left,” Britney offered up the most logical explanation, tacking on a ‘duh’ with her facial expression.
“They couldn’t have left, I didn’t hear the...wait a minute. How’d you get in here?” Dustin asked confused.
Offering the same expression, “The door.”
“But the bell,” he raised an eyebrow as he moved past her and through the door to find that the bell, hanging above the front door to the store, had been removed.
“Son of a bitch,” Dustin huffed at the missing bell.
“You ready to go pumpkin,” Britney ignored her delusional ex as she made her way over to the VCR, bringing an end to the alphabet song.
“Yup,” Abby responded, grabbing the pink, stuffed dog that she’d sat down next to the T.V..
“You’ve still got Saturday, right?” Britney paused beside a still baffled Dustin.
“What?”
“Saturday. You can still take your daughter that night, right? Damn it Dustin. You know that Charlie and I have a dinner to go to and—”
“—Yeah, yeah. I’ve got her. Not a problem,” he cut her off before she could go into one of her typical, berating rants. “I wouldn’t want you and Charlie to miss your precious dinner.”
“I’ll drop her off around five if that’s okay with you,” she chose to ignore his disdain for her boyfriend of nearly two years as she made her way back to the front door. “Come-on Abby.”
“Bye kiddo,” Dustin knelt down to give his daughter a hug.
“Bye Daddy. Love you.”
“I love you too. I’ll see you on Saturday. We can get pizza.”
“And watch Elmo,” Abby added.
Reluctantly, “And
watch Elmo,” Dustin resisted the urge to moan in agony.
“It’s a date then,” the little girl assertively nodded before running after her mother and out of the store.
Even though he and his ex didn’t get along, he couldn’t help but be grateful for the amazing little girl she’d given him.
Making his way to the back of the store, he grabbed the mop from the bucket and began pushing the larger bits of glass to the side while soaking up as much of the vodka as possible.
“Why the hell would they steal the bell?” Dustin contemplated the disappearance of the simplistic alarm system. “And how didn't I notice them taking it?”
“Eh hem.”
Startled by the sudden sound of someone clearing their throat to his back, Dustin turned just in time to catch a glimpse of a grey goose in flight.
THIRTY-THREE
“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing here?” Sarah demanded the explanation she’d been seeking ever since Derek had forced her to leave the game and catch a cab over to Mass General Hospital. Approaching the doors to the E.R., she’d finally decided that she’d had enough of his question dodging. Stopping in her tracks, she grabbed hold of his arm and brought him to a halt as well.
“What are you doing? We don’t have time for this,” Derek protested.
“Time. Ever since you showed up it's been all about time. You know what I don’t have time for? Bullshit.”
Derek was a bit taken aback by the sudden departure of the playful, carefree girl he’d just gotten to know. Now he sort of knew how Jason must have felt when she’d used the same scolding tone on him back at the restaurant.
“I want some answers, Derek, if that really is your name. Who are you? What are you doing here, really?”
“My name really is Derek and I already told you—”
“—Yeah the future thing. That was cute at first but I’m not eight. Time travel isn’t possible, so what are you really doing here?
Deciding to leave the time travel portion out of it, he figured that she might at least go for what he suspected Jason was up to. “Alright. You see this?” he withdrew the hospital I.D. tag from his pocket. "This belongs to a patient by the name of Tillmore, Tabitha Tillmore.”
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