Undercurrents in Time

by Pamela Schloesser Canepa

  The air was pleasantly cool and had a clean, fresh smell Tabitha couldn’t quite identify. It wasn’t long before her eyes were closed, and she saw Milt’s face, the landscape of South Dakota, Mr. “Fishman,” the orchid fruit, and the huge butterfly. Surprisingly, peaceful thoughts reigned, the better memories of her first visit to 2047.

  Clink! Clink! A horrible sound awoke Tabitha. She would have much preferred a screaming baby on the monitor.

  “Well, here’s the mystery lady. What’s your name?” A man in uniform with several stripes on his shoulders looked down at her through the bars. He was not unattractive; he had smile lines around his eyes and darkish hair that hadn’t grayed yet.

  “Tabitha,” she answered. Why lie at this point?

  “I’m Lieutenant Phillip Wilkes. You’ve got the ladies all in a flurry. It seems your fingerprints are those of a dead woman.”

  Dead? Yeah, that made sense. It was 2047, after all. So, they found out something about her.

  “Oh. Interesting.”

  “Can you tell me why that is?”

  She shook her head no.

  “You must’ve travelled a long way. You’ve been snoring the afternoon away.”

  “Yeah, I was tired.” She sat up.

  “You spilled something on your blouse,” the lieutenant observed.

  “Oh, no.” She looked down. “That’s just, I sprung a leak.” She herself was actually surprised. Of course, it said that would happen in the books she had read. The gauze she had brought was still back at the Envo.

  He looked a little flummoxed. Tabitha didn’t explain. She asked, “Do you have that picture of my baby?”

  “Yeah, we saw that. If there had been a baby boy born around here, we’d know about it. So, the question is, where are you from?”

  “The future,” she answered snidely.

  “You’d do best not to play with me. Or the ladies.”

  “I’m sorry. Please, I’m just looking for some details about my brother. I’m sure he may be dead, but I’d like to find out about him. I haven’t seen him in a while.”

  “Well, you look like you’re telling the truth. But I’m not getting the whole truth, I can tell.”

  She lay back down.

  “So, where are you from? And where is your baby boy?”

  “He’s with his father. Safe and sound. I won’t be here for long,” Tabitha stated.

  “You think.” The lieutenant chuckled. “Don’t be so confident. By the way, food is coming in a few minutes.” He turned on his heel and left.

  Tabitha could hear other inmates. She didn’t feel hungry, yet something told her it was time to eat. A damp mist sprayed from the ceiling. Not enough to dampen her clothes, but she could feel it.

  The woman in the cell next door reached through the bars and called out to her again. “Don’t eat anything brown.”

  “Why?”

  “It’ll send you back in time. I like to thought I’d never come back. Messed me up good though. I can’t have babies no more. Someone took my two babies. I was gone. Two years. My man run off with another woman. I’m not from this time, you know.” The woman had very unkempt dark hair hanging in strings around her face, which appeared a little dirty. Her fingernails didn’t look too clean either, and there were sweat spots on her jail smock. Well, Tabitha surmised it had to be a jail smock.

  “Shut up! Just shut up!” A woman was screaming from the cell across from Tabitha. This was the first she had heard from her.

  “Ease up, Miss Dolly. I’ve got me a sympathizer, don’t be so jealous. You’re always so angry. It’s not like you ever wanted to talk to me.”

  The woman across from them moved up to the bars and looked through them, her hands on either side. Her eyes glared as if they would burn a hole in one of the other women. Yes, she certainly seemed the angry type.

  Tabitha moved closer to the woman in the cell beside hers, but not quite at arm’s length, smelling the earthy, sweaty scent of the woman who likely had long ago given up a concern for hygiene. The smock hung loosely about the woman’s shoulders.

  “Where are you actually from?” Tabitha whispered. She wasn’t sure if she was just playing into this woman’s insanity, vulnerable as Tabitha was, as lost and displaced as she felt. Still, she wanted to know more, to piece the puzzle together and figure out what she was dealing with in this woman who just bared her soul to her, or was testing her. Something warned her, though. Tell nothing. The woman had heard her asking for her baby photo, after all.

  “They were two healthy, baby boys. We were the pride and joy of our neighborhood. Baby boys is rare these days, and havin’ two in a family, it was like someone struck gold twice in a lifetime. I was blessed, man. Blessed. I was also at the sims too much. They claimed it was safe, but no. Didn’t wait out my time, left in a daze, I didn’t know what I was doin’. Got arrested for stealing. So then, I’m in here and they feed you garbage. I ate this old potato, skin and all. Don’t do it. Soon, I’m back in the 1960s. I started feeling like I belonged there. I remember John F. Kennedy, the Bay of Pigs, Woodstock. So, one day in 1969, I eat another potato. Well, here I am, back again, but I came back too late. My man was already gone with the babies. I don’t know where. I left this cell, and I returned to it. I have no control over where this takes me…I don’t dare eat a potato again. And now, you see, I have nothin’.” She spat the word out. “Don’t eat anything brown.” The woman turned her back.

  “Ma’am, why are baby boys rare?” She clung to the hope that some truth lingered in what this woman said, that she knew things. For sure, if she was a time traveler, she had seen things that many people here had not.

  “We don’t know. They say it’s ‘cuz everyone’s having babies late in life. They say it’s something in the water. I think potatoes are evil. Something bad is in the ground, I tell you. We’re learning how to get along, we can get along without men, but you know, we can’t die out. Any young man around gettin’ treated like a king. We do all the hard work now. I tell you, I never saw this comin’. Fought so hard for our rights, fought to burn our bras. Well, we got our rights. Just wait, someone will decide a new hierarchy. Mark my words.”

  “How long have you been in here?”

  “I’m not talkin’ anymore. You’re lucky I said as much as I did.” She crossed her arms and kept her bony back turned on Tabitha. Well, the woman looked to be in her sixties at least, so it certainly wasn’t possible she had been in here since the 1960s.

  Pauline came in with a plate of food covered by a plastic film. Tabitha discovered it was not plastic at all. Pauline used the remote to open a small door to fit the food through, and the film seemed to sink into the food.

  “What is that? On the food? How can you feed me that?”

  “Ma’am, please stop acting paranoid. It doesn’t help your case.”

  Could she actually be on Tabitha’s side?

  “But what is it? How can I eat that? Is it plastic?”

  “No. It’s a vegetable film, with soy; it’s like what they put outside of eggrolls, just thinner. They have those where you come from, right?”

  Tabitha nodded.

  “Won’t hurt you. It protects the food until it gets to your cell. Keeps it all together so it won’t get runny and, well, we’ve had a few inmates who won’t eat food that has touched other food on the plate. You should be thankful. And actually, it doesn’t cost us that much. Eat; you’ll feel better.” Pauline left, glancing back once, perhaps unsure if Tabitha might throw the food at her.

  Tabitha observed the plate’s contents and decidedly stayed away from the potato. She very gingerly picked her way through the rest of the food, leaving remnants on the plate, getting just enough to keep her going. It didn’t smell bad, but after her discussion with the potato woman, she sure did not trust it.

  Speaking of which, the potato woman was watching Tabitha intently as she ate.

  “You’re a rare one, aren’t you?�
��

  “How do you know? Is it my shirt? Oh, it’s my sneakers that give it away, right?” Tabitha was being a smart aleck and she knew it, wondering if the potato woman would catch on.

  “Don’t get smart with me. I’m pretty valuable to you. I know you’re from elsewhere, too. Me, I’m not from this time. I got here by accident, but I went back, got comfortable back there, and then got catapulted right back here. You’re like me in many ways. Let me tell you a little story.”

  “Suit yourself,” Tabitha replied.

  The other woman began, and set off the inmate referred to as Miss Dolly to smacking her plate against the bars of her cell in anger. So, the woman lowered her voice, and continued:

  There was once a young lady with a very curious nature. She was in love with a fella’ but wouldn’t admit it. She accompanied him as a friend, helped him in matters of his business, well, to a small degree, that is. He was an odd one, but that made him interesting to her. He was brilliant. She couldn’t stay away. There were other men, but they didn’t last long and they didn’t interest her like he did. His name was, hmm, started with an ‘M,’ let’s call him Mike. Is that close? Anyway, Mike made amazing inventions. So, they became closer and one day, he professed his love. One thing led to another, and they eventually got married and had a child, a baby boy. Oh, the pregnancy was rough on our young lady’s mind. So was the time after his birth. Everything just all got to her, and one day she ran off, to end up in a faraway land she’d never seen before, well, maybe similar, but not the same. She was not there for long, but she was there for a reason. A reason which became clear to her, in time. She was led there for a reason, because only she could stop him. You see, only SHE knew what he was capable of.

  “Who was she supposed to stop?”

  The woman sank down onto her cot, looking weary and fatigued. “I’m done.” It came out as a weak little squeak.

  Lieutenant Wilkes and Pauline walked up, and the woman who had told her a story and warned her about potatoes turned her face away.

  “So, you’ve been talking with Ellie. We call her the ‘potato woman.’ I supposed you can figure out why? I see you haven’t eaten yours, either.”

  Pauline took the plate away.

  Funny, Tabitha thought. I refer to her as the potato woman, too. The potato woman had to be messing with her head. How did she know just what buttons to push?

  “What’s this for?” Wilkes took the wrench key from his pocket.

  Tabitha’s eyebrows shot up, and she stood with a start. “It’s a keepsake. To remember my brother by. You know, like, a key to my heart? Can I have it back?” She reached forward, and he drew back his hand. Her heart sank. The wrench would allow her to de-activate the time travel mechanism, something she should have done before being apprehended. Of course, there had been no time.

  “No. Not until your release. You are a mystery, aren’t you? Where are you really from?” He fidgeted with the wrench.

  “Georgia.”

  “Your plate said Virginia.”

  “I’m originally from Georgia. You really need to be more specific with your questions.” Score one for Tabitha, she thought.

  He smiled, unimpressed. “Well, good to see your brain is working now. Was that your car?”

  “Am I being interrogated? Shouldn’t we be in an interrogation room?”

  Wilkes gave a wry smile. “You mean a speakeasy?”

  “Speakeasy?” Tabitha almost laughed. The changes in language over time were always amazing. “Yes, that’s what I meant. Please excuse me, I’m not from around here.”

  “You actually are pretty sharp, I see.” He lowered his voice. “I think they were wrong about you. You’re not as unstable as you first pretended to be.” He reached through the bars and touched her hair. Creepy.

  “A lovely little mystery. I can help you. Are you willing to start talking?”

  “As long as you quit touching me without permission.” She almost spat the words out.

  He ignored the comment and called to Jobeth. “Come and handcuff Tabitha and bring her to the speakeasy room. She’s ready to talk.” He walked down a corridor; maybe it was his secret passageway, Tabitha thought.

  JoBeth slapped the cuffs on her.

  “Is he like, the only man around for miles?”

  The officer shrugged. “I hardly even notice anymore. Doesn’t matter, it’s not like he could have children, and I’d never date the boss.”

  Tabitha wondered how Jobeth knew that about him, but she didn’t dare ask. Unless such knowledge about a man was commonplace in this place and time. Would he tell people himself? She didn’t quite grasp the idea of making it known to others that one was sterile.

  “He’s just playing on his male status, working the system. It has earned him a comfy job; he doesn’t go out on calls or street arrests; we do that. Heck, he doesn’t even step foot in the jail very often. But don’t worry, you can trust him.”

  Tabitha wasn’t so sure.

  Jobeth deposited her into the speak-easy room. It was bright and sterile, as she would have imagined, but the chairs were padded and comfortable. What sort of trickery was this?

  Lieutenant Wilkes sat across the table from her in what looked like a king’s chair, his name tag gleaming in the light. A female officer brought in water for both of them, and a can of soda with an unknown name on it. It looked like “Panda.”

  “You want one of these, Tabitha? It’s very sweet tasting, with a little kick, but no sugar.” She shook her head no, and he nodded dismissively to the female officer.

  “You are aware what a speak-easy was in the 1920s, aren’t you?” Tabitha asked.

  “Well,” Wilkes stalled, then took out a device from his pocket and spoke into it. “Speak-easy. 1920s. Text, not speech.” He read something on the little screen. Then looked up, smiling.

  “Okay, you’ve got some knowledge. Obscure as it may be. So. Who’s Sting?” He gestured to her shirt.

  Tabitha looked down, just then remembering her Sting t-shirt under the plaid button up shirt. The t-shirt also had a picture of his face on it. She became keenly aware of the faint smell of dried breast milk and wondered if the lieutenant had noticed it. She crossed her arms.

  “He’s a rock star.”

  He reached under her desk and she heard a beep. “Oh, rock. Rock and roll?” He raised his eyebrows. “You go for the classic stuff.”

  Okay, the small talk was, without doubt, intended to put her at ease, but she also realized Wilkes’ attempts to get a read on her.

  “Yes. I listen to and love the classics. But I also like a lot of other different types of music.”

  “So, Tabitha, what else do you like to do?”

  Just then, Pauline came into the office and handed Tabitha something that must have been a jail smock. “These will make you feel a little more comfortable.” She handed Tabitha two gel compresses that looked like sleep blinders, only see through. “Cold compresses,” she added, and Tabitha immediately understood. “You might want to give her a minute in the restroom,” she directed toward Wilkes. Then, she gave a little wave and walked back out.

  “Thanks.” Wilkes remarked. “Take a few minutes, then,” he gestured toward a door in the room.

  Moments later, she came out, armed with cool compresses and smock, realizing she’d left several things unconsidered when she took off in the Envo.

  Wilkes spoke. “Now, your answer, Tabitha.”

  “Art. Exercise, dance. Although I haven’t done that in a few months.”

  “Why?”

  She cleared her throat, time for a dash of the truth. “I gave birth about four and a half weeks ago. He’s okay, he’s at home with his dad, and I won’t be gone long. I love them both. Really, I do.”

  “Oh, I feel daft. That explains the shirt earlier. Springing a leak. I’m glad Josephine helped you out. So, a son? That’s wonderful.”

  She nodded. “He’s on the bottle now.” Th
at’s all she said, sure he must be wondering why she was so neglectful, feeling a brief twinge of guilt.

  Wilkes didn’t seem to care to ask about it. “You are making a lot more sense than you did five hours ago. You’re nothing like Ellie, the potato woman.” He chuckled. “Don’t try to play crazy. It won’t get you out of here; in fact, might do the opposite. Yes, I saw you talking to her. She can't talk sane for five minutes to save her own life. Psychedelic, time-slipping potatoes. You’ve got to love it. The girls and I sure get a laugh out of it. So, you felt better after sleeping a few hours, I take it."

  “Yes, Lieutenant. Are you inclined to let me go?”

  “I believe so. So far we just don’t have enough to keep you here. No one has reported the vehicle stolen. In fact, we can’t find any record of an owner. So yes, you’ll be released.”

  “Can I ask just one thing?” Tabitha said a silent prayer.

  “Okay.”

  “Can I stay until just before sunrise tomorrow?”

  He smiled. “Marasel will be on duty at that time. I’ll let her know. I guess you might like a little more sleep, huh?”

  Tabitha shrugged her shoulders again. It was odd, but she had been able to sleep without stirring in that cell in the middle of the day. Now she truly hoped the potato woman would not be restless and awake at night.

  “Is there anything more you’d like to tell me? For instance, why you’re so tired.”

  “New baby.”

  “Okay, but why did you have to come HERE, of all places, to get your sleep? Why would you take a joy ride in an antique car when you’ve got a new baby at home? It makes no sense.”

  “I didn’t plan it that way, Lieutenant. I really didn’t purposely come here to get arrested and catch some shuteye in the jailhouse. This is just sort of how it happened. Now, I see it happened for a reason.”

  “Divine intervention?”

  “Well, I do believe it’s possible.” She felt so well rested, and a return home would bring her back to Milt with wider eyes and maybe even a fresher, more relaxed face.