Time Split

by Patricia Smith

  What others are saying about Time Split

  Reviews:

  “Wow, this was a great read, really enjoyed it. Little did he know the consequences of tampering with the time line!” – Shazzam

  “I really enjoyed the book. The story is about a scientist who is working on teleportation when he discovers he has actually invented a time machine. He swears he would never go back in time until his wife asks him if he wouldn’t even use the machine to help his own mother. At this point the other timeline has already begun and I loved the way you can watch it develop as the chapters switched between the two. I particularly enjoyed the ‘bad guy’ character, a mercenary called Briggs, who had a good balance of cold, calculating, ruthlessness which never went over the top. The story can also be tender as the desperate struggle to survive is revealed.” – J Young

  TIME SPLIT

  Published by Patricia Smith at Smashwords

  Copyright 2012 Patricia Smith

  Discover other titles by Patricia Smith at Smashwords.com

  Smashwords, Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  * * *

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  About the Author

  Sample of Distant Suns

  Prologue

  40 minutes into the war most of the northern hemisphere was destroyed. A cycle of annihilation, which once started became impossible to stop.

  The launch of missiles, detected by satellites, set the wheels in motion for the retaliatory strikes to begin.

  No nation escaped the cascade that followed; even those neutral in the war.

  Detonation was the only warning for most that things had escalated beyond reason as the use of thermo-weapons had never been discussed. A huge electromagnetic pulse, which fried all electrical equipment inside the strike zone, shut down power grids and plunged the region into darkness. A microsecond later there followed a flash of intense white light, which filled the sky, as a small sun erupted within the city.

  As the glare burned the corneas from their eyes, it simultaneously cauterized their optic nerves, but the blindness and pain only distressed for a nanosecond. Superheated air, expanding at a rate of 400 metres per second, dwarfed all previous torment. Skin was seared and lungs disintegrated as a last agonized breath choked in the furnace.

  On the fringes of the inferno, fires erupted in every direction whilst in the centre, where temperatures reached millions of degrees centigrade, everything was vaporised in a millisecond. The scorching, dust-filled air tore upward in a fiery plume, looking, to all at a distance safe enough to witness the madness, as though hell had broken loose. Seconds later it hit the stratosphere where, cooling, it began to fan outwards, forming the terrifying calling card of man’s most destructive weapon.

  There was no hope on January 28th. The mercy for most was death came swiftly.

  On a worldwide scale, billions died immediately following the initial strikes, and in the weeks after, millions more from radiation and starvation.

  None of this had to happen; none of this should have happened; and it wouldn’t have happened had it not been for the good intentions of one man.

  Chapter One

  Jessica Hudson was initially attracted to her husband’s boyish good looks and childlike charm when they were both lecturing at the same university.

  His speciality, physics, and hers, maths, overlapped on calculus and late one evening, whilst discussing their approaches to teaching, Jason asked her out.

  She’d been reluctant at first. At twenty-eight she was two years his senior, she felt this a little taboo; also, his laid-back, casual attitude, reflected in his attire, bore no comparison to her usual dates. She was used to more formal men and found his ‘relaxed’ manner of dress slightly unappealing. Still, there was no denying he was gorgeous, no matter what, and after some deliberating she agreed.

  He’d had a paper published in a scientific journal some time ago, which Jessica had read before they’d even met. It outlined the conversion of matter into a plasma signature and despite his confidence that teleportation was possible, she’d always felt it was based on flights of fancy – that was, until the evening of their first date.

  Jason oozed infectious enthusiasm, but more importantly he was able to explain his theories at the layman’s level. This was when Jessica’s eyes were opened, not only to the wonders of the atom, but also to the delights of this warm, charming, incredibly intelligent man.

  By then, Jason’s theories on teleportation had attracted the attention of the MOD and secret negotiations were under way to provide him with funding to develop his system for the military.

  Six months later as his role at the university began to diminish, more secretive work in laboratories away from the institution started to consume an increasing amount of time.

  Jessica knew the lab’s location, but was unaware of the details of Jason’s work. She remained in the dark until the day he asked her to marry him.

  A perfect evening – dinner, champagne and a moonlit walk, which ended at the lab – finished in a perfect way.

  Upstairs, in his office, Jason revealed a magic trick like no other. An engagement ring was stored in the teleporter system’s buffer. When he initiated the program and it materialised in a glass pod at Jessica’s feet, it was then she fully appreciated his genius.

  * * *

  Jessica stopped abruptly in the doorway leading from the hall to the lounge. “Jason! What’s Bell doing up here?”

  He replied from a distant location. “Bell? She can’t be, she’s with me.”

  “Well it must be Mitsie. Come and get her, she’ll make a mess.”

  The sound of soft plimsoles, running up wooden stairs, resonated from the basement.

  “Cream carpet and rat droppings don’t go well together,” she added as he arrived, faster than expected, in the hall.

  She waved a hand at the rodent. “I’ve been shopping. She was there when I came back.”

  The white rat wandered around the hearth, meticulously examining the fireplace, completely ignoring their presence.

  “She wasn’t there when I left. It is Mitsie, isn’t it? Unless they’re together I can’t always tell.” Jessica stopped, then looked pointedly at her husband, suddenly aware she was talking to herself.

  Jason, his face etched with puzzlement, passed his gaze slowly between the basement door and the rat, as though caught in a loop.

  “Were you aware she was up here? Or did she escape?” Jessica persisted. She tugged at his hair in a futile attempt to gain his attention.

  “It can’t possibly be Mitsie,” Jason replied distractedly.

  “But you said it’s not Bell?”

  “Well,” Jason lowered himself to his knees and examined the rodent more clos
ely, “it certainly looks like Mitsie.” He pushed back onto his heels and looked up at his wife. “But Mitsie’s downstairs.”

  Jessica’s face furrowed in a pained look of growing despair. “So both our rats are in the basement?” she said, exasperated.

  “They are now.” Jason stood. “But Mitsie did go missing for a short while ten minutes ago. I did my first live experiment this afternoon using Mitsie,” he admitted reluctantly. “She successfully dematerialised in Telepod One, but failed to materialise into Telepod Two. When she still hadn’t returned, several minutes later, I thought the experiment had gone wrong and her signature was lost.” He turned away as though to study the rat, but it was really to avoid his wife’s gaze; it was her who had chosen the names Mitsie and Bell. He knew only too well of her feelings towards his experiments with live subjects and expected an angry response.

  He was relieved when she simply said, “Poor Mitsie.”

  “I was trying to figure out what went wrong,” he continued, “when she suddenly appeared back in the same pod. I’d just put her away when you called.”

  “Could she have teleported from the machine to somewhere else?”

  He shook his head. “No. It shouldn’t be possible. Theoretically she should only be teleported to a point where she could be reassembled.”

  Jessica moved to the hearth. “So where do you think this rat came from?” She stooped to pick up the rodent and was just about to touch it when suddenly it vanished.

  For several stunned seconds, the pair stared dumbstruck at the point where the rat had been.

  “What happened?” Jessica finally asked, her eyes wide, her voice hushed.

  Jason simply shook his head, his features emotionless and blank. He seemed less phased than his wife, but this wasn’t the first time he’d seen something disappear. “I’ve no idea.”

  He turned and left the room, hurrying back downstairs.

  Jessica followed behind.

  In the basement both rats were at the food bowl, safely confined in their cage.

  “Teleport Mitsie again,” Jessica suggested. “I’ll go back upstairs to see if that rat reappears in the lounge.”

  Jason opened the cage and removed Mitsie. “Good idea.”

  Jessica started upstairs. “Don’t begin till I’m ready.”

  He waited for the call before putting Mitsie into the telepod, then initiating the sequence. The power charged and again the rat disappeared.

  “That’s it! She’s gone!”

  Upstairs, Jessica could see no sign of the rodent. She checked the floor, then stooped to look beneath units and chairs before eventually reporting back. “She’s not here!”

  “Wait! She’s returned!” Jason informed. He moved to the bottom of the stairs. “She was in the basement last time, when you called to say she was in the lounge. Stay where you are and see what happens.” He crossed to the telepod and opened the door.

  As he removed Mitsie from the machine he noticed the fur at the side of her mouth was discoloured. She also seemed more agitated this time. He cradled and gently stroked her and she slowly began to calm.

  “It’s alright baby,” he soothed. He carefully examined the mark. “She seems to have cut her face,” he yelled. The stain was obviously blood.

  Jessica suddenly noticed the rodent seen earlier, on the floor of the lounge. “Jason, that rat’s back! Did you say Mitsie was hurt? There are no marks on this one; its fur’s clear.” She moved to pick up the rodent, then suddenly cried out in alarm and wrenched her arm sharply away. She shook her hand in pain, then paused to examine a finger. A thick globule of blood oozing from a deep cut, caused by the animal’s razor-sharp teeth, was already beginning to clot.

  The startled rat turned and ran away, but before it could reach the safety of the hallway it, once again, vanished.

  Jason hurried upstairs to find Jessica cradling the wounded digit.

  “It happened again. It disappeared. But look at this!” She waved the injured finger in Jason’s face. “It bit me.”

  He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped the wound to stem the bleeding. “Something has definitely gone wrong.”

  “Do you think that was Mitsie?” Jessica asked. She shook her head. “There were no marks.”

  Jason stopped binding the finger. “No marks,” he said thoughtfully.

  “No. Nothing.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, positive.”

  His brown eyes became distant. “You saw both sides of her face?” he asked slowly.

  “Yes.”

  “And they were both clear?”

  “Yes!” Jessica snapped, annoyed at having to reiterate.

  He paused a moment, thinking, then turned and hurried from the room.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I need to check something.” He disappeared downstairs.

  “Come on, sweetie,” Jason cooed as he removed Mitsie from the cage. “It’s the last time you’ll be disturbed.” He took a sample of the stained fur, resettled the rat, then returned upstairs. “I’m popping to the labs. I won’t be long.”

  Jessica joined him in the hall. “Have you got a theory?”

  “Yes, but that’s all at the moment.” He pulled on his coat.

  “Want to share it?” Her voice fluttered excitedly with anticipation.

  He shook his head. “Not at the moment. You’ll think I’m mad.”

  She raised her brow and tightened her lips. Intrigued, she watched him close the door.

  When Jason returned home several hours later Jessica was surprised to see he was in a more solemn mood. She placed down her book as he entered the living room and scanned his features for clues to the cause. “What’s the matter?” She patted the couch.

  He crossed over and slowly sat down. “I analysed the fur around Mitsie’s mouth.”

  “And?”

  He looked distant and worried. “The results confirmed it was blood... and... the blood was human.”

  “Human? How could that be?”

  He turned to face his wife to gauge her reaction. “Well... I can only surmise the blood was yours,” he answered cautiously.

  Jessica shook her head. “She was in the basement with the mark on her face, before I was bit in the lounge.”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “But that could only mean...” she stopped. Reluctant to complete the sentence she paused, fearful of sounding crazy.

  “If,” Jason continued, “she jumped into the future, bit you, then returned to the basement, her lip stained with blood.” He spoke very slowly as though clarifying all of the facts in his mind as he laid them out before her.

  There was a long period of silence as they both absorbed the magnitude of their discovery.

  It was Jessica who spoke first. “This is fabulous!” her face animated with excitement.

  “No, it’s not,” Jason replied solemnly.

  “Why not?” His guarded reaction was confusing.

  “There’s great danger in the discovery of such a device. There’d be people prepared to kill to get their hands on it.”

  Jessica’s face opened into a wide grin and she laughed. “You’re being very dramatic.”

  “Perhaps, but not a word must be breathed,” he warned. “Not until I’m sure I know what I have and, more importantly, how to control it.”

  “So how could a teleporter suddenly turn into a time machine? You said it was transporting items quite successfully between pods. Now it’s suddenly started teleporting them into the future.”

  He shrugged. “The only thing different was the transition from inanimate to animate objects. This is the first time I’ve used a live subject.” He drew a circle in the air with a finger. “Living matter has its own electrical field which could have altered the electrical pulses of the teleporter.”

  Jessica smiled; she loved the way he had to use his hands to explain something.

  “The introduction of live matter must have forced an
additional calculation I wasn’t aware of.” He stopped, then looked lovingly at his wife. “Either way you’re right, it is fabulous.” His mood rose. “Starting tomorrow there’s lots of work to be done,” he took her in his arms, “but tonight we celebrate!”

  Chapter Two

  Briggs was lucky he’d been out for the day when the city was bombed. A drive to Rothbury had taken him away from his city centre luxury apartment and he’d only been travelling home for a short while when the attack took place.

  Initially, he’d thought his car had developed a fault when the engine cut out, until he found himself diving for cover below the dash. Animal instinct, fine-tuned through years of front line battle experience, had sensed rather than seen the blinding light of the atomic bomb, detonated over the city of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, twenty miles away.

  He slammed his foot on the brake and had slowed the car to a stop, just as the shock wave hit.

  A wall of air travelling over a hundred miles an hour impacted the car with the force of a train, causing it to jump violently back.

  He grabbed the handbrake and pulled it on. Then, as a deafening roar filled his world, the car shuddered fiercely under the continuing onslaught. Several seconds passed before it finally came to rest and Briggs emerged from cover.

  “Fuck! Fuck!” he yelled, pounding the steering wheel. Then, leaping out of the vehicle, he clenched his fists and screamed in fury before turning his anger on his immobilised car.

  The driver’s side window shattered when he slammed a foot into the panel and the door smashed into the frame.

  “This is great! This is just fucking great!” he screamed at the top of his lungs.

  Five years working as a mercenary had accumulated Briggs a great deal of wealth. Being a paid killer had been very profitable, but with nowhere to spend it, except the local shit-hole, he’d decided to return home until another interesting project arose. He deposited his wealth in a Swiss bank account, then, back in England, started to settle into the millionaire life style when this happened. He now questioned whether Switzerland still existed, never mind his bank.