Time Split

by Patricia Smith

  Pitching the tent in a nearby field was more difficult than she’d imagined and she regretted her casual attitude the previous night when she decided against practising its construction. The approaching darkness magnified the problem and the last of the sun’s rays had just disappeared below the horizon before she finally succeeded.

  She had planned to heat some soup on the small gas stove before getting some rest, but was so exhausted she just crawled into the sleeping bag fully clothed and ate it cold from the tin.

  That night, for the first time since the catastrophe, Sarah slept soundly, her dreams filled with the love of her family.

  If she’d chosen to pitch her tent just a little nearer to the road, she would have probably found them. The bodies of two children lay together, holding on to each other in the position they’d died. If Sarah had carried out her journey a few days earlier, she would have met them and they would still be alive today, but it wasn’t to be so.

  Nathan, eleven, and Isabel, nine, had been playing under a small stone bridge when the bomb struck the nearby city of Newcastle-upon-Tyne.

  They had been told to stay away from the river, but hadn’t. Instead they’d played beneath the bridge completely hidden from sight. As teatime approached and they decided to go home, a brilliant, bright, white light suddenly turned night to day along the river bank.

  Nathan could hear Isabel screaming, but temporary blindness and terror fixed him to the spot. His hands covered his eyes, but still the glare broke through.

  The air temperature climbed, to almost a searing level, as the children struggled to breathe, then just as quickly the brightness faded and the heat started to fall.

  The boy scrambled for his sister. As he clutched her tear-soaked face to his chest he could see their exit blocked by fire.

  The crackle of burning bushes echoed noisily off the stone, but not so loud to drown the growing roar.

  A sound like the roll of a thousand thunders rumbled closer until, when the shock wave hit, the noise reached a painful crescendo.

  The children clung to each other as a hurricane style wind, which lasted a few minutes, tore up trees, cars and buildings beyond the bridge.

  It took several hours for the fires to die down enough for them to leave the safety of their shelter.

  As they stepped into the smouldering ruins, they no longer knew which way was home.

  When a desperate search for their parents proved fruitless Nathan suggested they went to Clifton to their aunty’s instead. Confident she would know what to do, they satisfied their thirst in the river before heading north.

  Unfortunately, the water was now quite deadly. Radioactive contamination was only one of the problems. Sewage had poured into the local rivers when the pipes were destroyed in the blast.

  It only took a short while for the sickness to strike. The children travelled no more than five miles before crippling pains forced them to stop. Unable to continue, they sheltered in a nearby field and, that night, died in each other’s arms from exposure.

  Sarah woke before dawn. By the time the sun started to rise she’d finished breakfast, had packed and was ready to continue with her journey. She was surprised, this morning, to wake feeling refreshed. She’d thought, when she could no longer deny her family’s death, it would destroy her, but now she realised she could never mourn their passing and move on without the confirmation. Her only glimmer remaining was that Colin was still alive and would soon come to find her – and she hung on to that for dear life.

  As she opened the gate and left the field, Sarah passed within a few feet of the frozen little bodies. Then rejoining the road she turned north to make her way towards what, she knew, must now be called home.

  Chapter Nine

  The following day Jason travelled to Morpeth, 1930, to organise the English side of the journey.

  The town was virtually unchanged. He could easily have been convinced he hadn’t gone back in time at all.

  His first destination was the pawn shop on the main high street which he’d noticed when checking out Morpeth, with Jessica, the previous week.

  It had been a number of years since he visited the town, as there were too many painful memories after his mother’s death. The trip familiarised him again with the high street, bed and breakfasts and old housing areas.

  As he turned to enter the pawn shop, Jason saw the sign again, established since 1902, on the wall by the door. He exchanged some of his gold for cash, then began the search for accommodation.

  A few enquiries in the local pubs soon pointed him towards a small guesthouse which, he was told, was near the train station. An ideal location, he felt, as it would be less of a struggle with their luggage.

  He headed out of town and made his way up the bank.

  Throughout his journey Jason only saw three cars, two Rover Meteors and an Austin Laundelette. Only a few people could afford vehicles, so apart from that, the roads were quiet. He was used to the noise and rush of city life, which was felt even in the suburbs. The constant hum of traffic was everywhere and even at two in the morning there was still a background drone. Yet here, it seemed as though the world had nearly stopped; a state he found surprisingly unsettling. Knowing what was to come was even more disturbing and, as he greeted those he passed, he caught himself wondering who would die in the war which would start before the decade was out.

  It was a steep climb up the bank. The distance wasn’t great, but the gradient made it slow. Half an hour later he passed the railway station, then, just a hundred yards up the street from there, found the accommodation on the left.

  Mr and Mrs Jackson, who ran the guesthouse, took a keen interest in their guests to be, and were delighted at the prospect of their arrival.

  “It’ll be lovely to have a little one around the house again,” Mrs Jackson said when told about 7-year-old Claudia. “Our children grew up and left home years ago.”

  Jason paid the rent in advance for three months, thanked them both very kindly, then left.

  Upon his return home, he collected all the necessary documents in preparation to make the final part of his journey later that evening.

  The quicker this was completed, the better. Jessica obviously wasn’t happy about him travelling to Germany; he needed to end this soon so she could relax. The longer it went on, the more anxious he also became. Partially, this was because he was keen to see the results of his tinkering, but mostly it was because the more time that passed, the more chance there was that something could go wrong.

  Later that night Jason took his most powerful leap yet, when he arrived once again on the edge of Havelberg. He hoped five hours was time enough to take into consideration any problems that might occur.

  Safely contained in his inside pocket were the liner tickets and an envelope containing enough English currency for their train journey from Southampton to Morpeth and a little spare cash to help them through their first week.

  It took him a while to find an establishment which was prepared to exchange his gold for currency in the town – due to a lack of cash – but eventually a jeweller on the main street agreed to purchase his goods.

  With enough money for train tickets to take them to the port at Hamburg, everything was set. It was now or never. He was now such an intricate part of this timeline, if something crucial were to go wrong, there would be no going back and starting again; his presence was an additional complication.

  Quickly he made his way to his grandmother’s house, but once there Jason was shocked to find it looked frighteningly empty. The curtains were removed from the windows and the dining room cleared of furnishings.

  A cold chill crawled across his skin. Something’s wrong, he thought. He gave three sharp taps with the knocker.

  It appeared, at first, as though no one would answer. He stepped back from the door, unsure of what to do next. Then out of the corner of his eye he briefly saw movement at the window.

  Moments later, a bolt was drawn and the door was opened to rev
eal Lydia. Smiling nervously, she urged him inside.

  “There’s been a strong show of force on the streets today from the SS and storm troopers,” she explained before Jason had the chance to question her. “I’ll be very glad to get out of here,” she added. She led the way into the living room, where a number of cases and boxes stood in near empty surroundings.

  “Where’s your furniture?”

  “We sold as much as we could to raise cash.” She thrust a bundle of money in Jason’s direction. “If this doesn’t cover our costs, I promise I’ll work to the end of my days to pay you back.”

  He shook his head and pushed her hand away. “I don’t want your money. You’ll need it to get settled in England.”

  She looked embarrassed and again tried to pass it over.

  Jason held her hand. “When you and Claudia are properly settled, then you can pay me back,” he told her firmly.

  Lydia paused, then smiling uncomfortably, reluctantly pocketed the bundle.

  “I’ll be moving house myself soon.” He handed over a slip of paper. “So here’s the address at the hospital. You can write to me there when you have your own place.”

  She seemed happier. “Good.” She took the paper and stored it with the money.

  Whilst Jason went outside to hail a cab, Lydia said goodbye to her family home for the past 15 years.

  The journey to the station took less time than Jason imagined and it wasn’t long before they were waiting on the platform for the train to Hamburg.

  “This is for your crossing to England.” He handed over the liner tickets. “Put them somewhere safe. Do not forget the ship is called ‘Oceania’,” he insisted. “The name is on the ticket; make sure you’re on the right ship.”

  “I will.” Lydia smiled at his ‘concerned father’ approach.

  Jason handed her the envelope. “I have another friend who lives in England and he’s organised accommodation for you in Morpeth. Inside the envelope you’ll find the address of a guesthouse and directions from the railway station. When you arrive in Southampton you’ll have to catch a train to Morpeth. There’s also enough English currency in the envelope to cover your journey. Mr and Mrs Jackson, who run the guesthouse, are expecting you and they know when you’re coming. They’ll be watching out for you.”

  “You’ve done too much,” Lydia said. Gently she shook her head in disbelief as she took the envelope. She knew by now it was a waste of time saying no. “I’m stunned a total stranger would offer so much help. I can scarcely believe it.”

  “You’d be surprised to discover I’m probably not that much of a stranger after all,” Jason replied coyly. “And besides, as I said, I owe my life to Eckert.”

  “You’ve more than paid him back,” she said solemnly. “I have no doubt you’ve saved our lives.”

  As the train began to approach, Jason crouched down and took the child into his arms. “Goodbye, little Claudia, I hope I’ll be seeing you again very soon.”

  He helped the pair to their carriage, then returned to the platform. It was then, as he watched the passengers continue to board, that a terrible feeling something was amiss crept up on him. Quickly he checked his pockets for anything he’d forgotten. As he searched through the fabric everything seemed fine. All that remained was the change left over from buying the tickets to Hamburg, a torch and his gun.

  He’d thought it insane to come to the place where his grandfather and uncle were murdered without some form of protection; even protection he had no intention of using. Mad as it seemed, just bringing the gun along made him feel just a little bit more secure.

  The station whistle blew. Jason waved as the train began to pull away. Brushing any foreboding aside, he again reassured himself he’d done the right thing.

  As the last of the carriages moved away from the platform, he checked the station clock; it was 5.32 p.m. Everything had gone smoothly and he now found himself with a couple of hours to wait before returning home. He looked around. He suddenly realised how dark it had become. The station, although hardly glowing, was still well lit, but beyond, the blackness was pitch. With the train gone, the solitude seemed emphasised. The urge to seek the comfort of street lighting and the noise of other people became irresistible.

  It took only a few minutes at a brisk pace for Jason to find himself once again back on the main street. His feeling of comfort was short-lived though.

  Storm troopers, backed by SS guards, were demonstrating in the town square and were stopping people to ask questions.

  The last thing in the world Jason wanted was to be confronted by these Nazis. As he looked around for somewhere quiet to sit for the next couple of hours, he noticed a cinema over the road. Crossing towards it he hurried inside.

  The girl behind the counter informed him the film had already begun.

  “Yes, that’s fine.” He handed over the money.

  Shrugging her shoulders, she passed him a ticket.

  Inside the cinema, Jason settled into a seat discreetly towards the back. The film was a tragic love story; a marriage was coming apart after the death of their child.

  “Excuse me, sir!”

  Jason woke with a start. He looked around, alarmed.

  “Excuse me, sir, the film finished ten minutes ago, you’ll have to leave.”

  He stared at the girl blankly for a moment before suddenly remembering where he was.

  “You’ll have to leave now or I’ll call the manager,” she said, her voice sharp.

  Jason shook his head. “There’s no need. I’m sorry.” He stood. “I’m going now.”

  Once outside he checked his watch. In three minutes’ time he would be recalled. He had to be somewhere quiet or his disappearance might be seen.

  It’s a pity the film didn’t last a little longer, he thought. A darkened cinema was the perfect place to vanish.

  With little time, Jason quickly looked around for somewhere discreet.

  The streets were frustratingly busy. A crowd had formed to listen to a speaker on behalf of the Weimar government. As he spoke out against the National Socialist Workers’ Party, storm troopers moved in to break up the gathering and assault the man. As he was dragged away, he began to struggle and got a club to his head for his trouble.

  Jason quickened his pace.

  The crowd was chanting as the police moved in and started making arrests.

  A woman screamed.

  Jason glanced at the commotion and bumped into someone as they stepped from a doorway. Quickly he apologised, but as he tried to move on he was grabbed and flung away with such force, he was sent sprawling to the ground. Shocked, he looked up and discovered he’d rushed into a guard.

  The man ordered Jason to get up. In the meantime, his colleague moved alongside, blocking the path further.

  Any hope of a discreet disappearance was now gone. At the very least there would be questions.

  Gripped with panic and with only seconds remaining, Jason leapt to his feet and grabbed his revolver. Instructing them to stay away, he began stepping backwards. Moments earlier he had seen an alley. If he could escape down there, they would never find him. In ten seconds he’d be gone in any case.

  He swept the barrel between the two, keeping the men at bay, until, level with the alley, he glanced sideways to confirm it was empty.

  This was the moment the guards had been waiting for to grab their guns.

  When Jason looked back he saw the revolvers. He lunged for the alley, but rain earlier that day had made the pathway slippy. The world seemed to slow as he stumbled. Powerless to resist, he fell backwards until, when he hit the ground, everything blurred into one – the impact, the shot, the pain and then darkness.

  Chapter Ten

  When several seconds passed and Jason was still surrounded by darkness, he began to feel a flutter of alarm. He was extremely cold and aware he was standing on a solid surface, both of which allowed him to dismiss his initial thought he had been caught in some sort of time limbo. Apart from that,
he couldn’t imagine what was going on. A power cut would explain the darkness, but not the cold. Even in the depths of winter the basement was never this cold. This was a cold accrued over a long period of time, when every scrap of heat had been drawn from the stone.

  Slowly, as his other senses came on board, Jason became aware of a stinging pain. He raised his hand to his right cheek. It was wet and sticky. The cause was slightly higher. At his temple the line of a deep gash ran from the tip of his eyebrow back to his ear.

  I’ve been shot, he thought, as a wave of shock rocked through him. Why did you draw your gun? “Idiot!” he cursed aloud.

  A damp, musty smell, of mould and stagnant water, which had assaulted his nostrils from the start, was beginning to make him feel nauseous.

  Jason checked his pocket and was relieved to find he hadn’t lost his torch in the fall. He switched it on and swept it around the room.

  The narrow beam offered small comfort. Only one thing was the same – the teleporter. This looked like his lab, and yet not. There was his bench, but where were his laptop and notes? There was a shelf full of books, but the titles were different. And most significant – where were the rats?

  Why would Jessica move the cages? he thought.

  The horrible smell was a possible reason, but it stank of long-standing decay with an underlying stench of sewage. He couldn’t think what could have caused it.

  He moved out of the machine.

  The beam lit only a small area of the floor, making Jason nervous as he picked his way to the steps. There his confidence grew and his pace increased until the fourth step up, when he stopped in surprise. He habitually counted as the fourth and ninth steps always squeaked. When he heard the familiar noise Jason paused to stress the wood further. It sounded the same, although he couldn’t say exactly. He continued on, more subdued. When the ninth step squeaked with as much vigour he felt even more confused. This was definitely his house, although something had obviously happened in his absence.