An Echo Through Time: A Novella

by Nicholas Licalsi

I pressed the light button on my digital watch, and the green letters told me it was 12:13. I squatted behind the bushes, ignoring the burning sensation in my calves. I would only be waiting a few hours, instants compared to my entire lifetime. The part I was most worried about was the fact that Gretchen had drawn her blinds shut before bed. If the killer did show up, I wouldn’t know about it unless I saw them enter or leave through the front door, something that I wouldn’t be able to observe from my position.

  I waited behind the bushes, as still as a painting. I was surrounded by noises and vibrations and focused my mind on them. A few cars drove up and down the street, and I wondered which one might hold Gretchen’s killer. Some pulled into driveways, and I heard garages open and shut. The neighborhood settled into its dark silence after two hours of slow commotion.

  Around a quarter past three, I heard a solitary car barrel down the street and stop on the side of the road. My ear caught the click of the car door opening, then the sound of a muffled shut reached my ears. My back tensed, causing the pain in my legs to flare. I ignored my body’s complaint. I kept my eyes on what I could see of the front door, but didn’t see anyone come up. A house door shutting was softened by either the distance the sound traveled or the care of closing it.

  It might be the killer, but then again, I couldn’t blame whoever was entering at this hour for wanting to be quiet. I considered lowering my guard, but then the blinds in Gretchen’s room were pulled up. Currently, I was a fan of Gretchen’s huge window with the blinds raised high. I could see the entire room. Her bedroom was dark, but the light from the street and the moon illuminated a tall shadowed figure. He wore a hoody that he was far too old for and he stared out of the open window, picking at his teeth with his pinky. He gazed into the neighbor’s yard and house as if he was looking for someone or something. Realistically, he was planning his escape route.

  Rage filled me while I looked at this man who was about to kill Gretchen. I felt my throat tighten as I considered screaming something. Then suddenly I felt my mind lock up. I actively avoided thoughts of rescue as I regained control of my breathing. I focused my mind back to passive observation. Behind the bush, I was helpless, but at least I was present in the moment. By then, the man had left the window. I pulled the binoculars up to my eyes, and all I could see was the ceiling of the room and a small table next to the window.

  Then, out of the darkness, the man came back to the window holding Gretchen in his arms. She was gagged. He was at least twice her size, and she was helpless in his tight grip. Gretchen struggled and kicked, but he made sure that she was unable to hit anything that made a noise.

  Maybe the girls on her team were right, I wondered. This man looked like a professional. If he were a serial killer, then this town would be in a world of trouble.

  I calmed my breathing. It had started racing after seeing Gretchen pinned helplessly. I actively pushed each thought of rescue from my mind as they came up. I needed to get as much information from this situation as possible.

  The man that held Gretchen gazed out the window. Then he brandished a large hunting knife that glimmered in the moonlight. It was as if he was putting on a show. He didn’t crack a smile, and he didn’t seem to be enjoying it either. Hopefully that indicated he wasn’t a psychopath.

  I held my breath to silence any noise I might let out. Then the killer slit Gretchen’s throat. A look of sheer horror froze on her face as blood splattered onto the window. Her tank top and shorts became drenched in her blood. The window was splattered in red, and it speckled my view.

  Then her brown hair streaked through the blood as the killer laid her lifeless head against the window. Gretchen’s body leaned against the glass pane. Her hair was a mess and tangled up. With the help of her splattered blood, the hair stuck to the glass and seemed to defy gravity.

  I stayed as still as possible, waiting for the killer to leave. I didn’t want to get in his way and change the events of the night. I didn’t know how long it would be until the police arrived. The odds were good that they wouldn’t arrive until morning, since the killer had been so silent. Yet, if there were more people around it would have been a public performance, I thought to myself. He went through the effort to kill her in front of the large bedroom window, as if he wanted someone to see. As if he wanted me to see.

  I took a deep breath to still my nerves. If I left this body now, then a zombified default Todd would take over this form for the moment and move it back to bed. Continuity would be restored to the time line and my past consciousness would learn about Gretchen’s death at lunch from Jenna.

  By then, I would be in the next universe, to see if the killer was going to make a habit of this. I had hoped, for Gretchen’s sake, that this experience would be a mere fluke. But if it wasn’t, then it might lead me to answers about Gretchen’s continuous deaths. I was split between finding answers, but at the cost of Gretchen’s suffering.

  I reached out for another night in another world and exhaled. I left, and my body felt relaxed in bed again. Except I didn’t have the musky taste of meatloaf or fresh toothpaste in my mouth. I was living in a new date and time. It was early in the morning on Sunday March 20, and I was ready to live the day out, all for the chance to watch Gretchen get murdered in the night.

  5

  Gun

  I had to live through the menial tasks of a typical Sunday in my teenage house. We cleaned the house, and my mother cooked meatloaf for dinner. The entire day paled in comparison to the hundreds of other adventures I’d lived. The simple tasks were refreshing, but I was grateful I didn’t have to relive the day every week like the default Todds did. The Sunday dragged on, and the only thing that pushed me through was knowing that I may witness Gretchen’s murder again.

  Gretchen had died in strange ways before, and some of them never repeated. There was a time she died in the locker room after practice. That caused a nightmare of a lawsuit for the school. I have never witnessed it in any other universe. She was, by far, the unluckiest girl I’d ever met. She had died so many ways, across so many worlds, and I was exhilarated by the puzzle. If she had any luck, then there was a chance that her murder wouldn’t happen ever again.

  Everyone in my house went to bed by eleven o’clock, and after that, I snuck out of my window to go to Gretchen’s. If every high schooler knew how simple it was to leave in the middle of the night without their parents’ knowledge, the number of teen pregnancies would be through the roof. I walked to the neighborhood where she lived and assumed my squatted position between the neighbor’s bushes.

  I waited silently and patiently for the wee hours of the morning to come. I lowered my guard for the first few hours, and around half past two, I pulled myself out of my passive awareness and tuned my ears to listen for the killer. Sure enough, at 3:12, I heard a car door close, and I got out from behind the bushes for a better view.

  I watched the front door, assuming he had come in that way last time. When I didn’t see him approach, I realized my mistake. I rushed around to the back, unlatching the fence gate.

  The back door was cracked open. The killer must have left it that way. As I slid through, I tried to avoid touching it so it wouldn’t make any sound. I wanted to avoid alerting the killer or Gretchen’s family of my arrival.

  I walked through the poorly lit house and up the stairs, being careful not to let them squeak. I had only been to Gretchen’s house a few times, and the layout was fuzzy in my mind. I got to the top of the stairs and looked around. Gretchen’s room was given away by its open door. The threshold projected the sound of someone drawing blinds up. The killer was putting on another show.

  I rushed towards the room and then realized I didn’t have a plan. What are you going to do once you get in there? I asked myself. I knew the killer was armed with a knife. All I had was a few dozen years of martial arts training, but it was rusty from lifetimes of neglected practice.

  I initially hoped that showing up would spook him enough. Surely, he wouldn’t
be able to fight both Gretchen and me. And if he did, one of us could make a sound exposing him. I should have barred the back door to keep him from escaping, I thought to myself before I pushed through the door of Gretchen’s room.

  The tall man was already grappling Gretchen when I entered. The beginnings of a dark beard shadowed his face. I immediately noticed that Gretchen was as still as stone. Did he drug her this time? I wondered. I didn’t have time to follow the chain of questions that started in my mind. When I walked into the room, the man pointed a gun at me.

  In a hushed, gruff voice, he said, “Don’t move, or I’ll kill you before I kill her.”

  I became a statue, staring down the barrel of his black pistol. I swallowed slowly and attempted to regulate my breathing. The breathing quickly calmed my nerves and forced my mind to think straight.

  The killer steadily aimed the gun at me as he shifted Gretchen’s limp body into a position in which he could control her better. This was the first time Gretchen’s death had also put me at risk. I cared about Gretchen, and I had come to her in the first place with the intent of dying. However, in all my lives I had never actually died before.

  While I had lived thousands of lives in many different bodies, I had always been able to transfer my consciousness before my time expired, even in split-second emergencies. I didn’t know how death affected my powers, and this wasn’t the ideal time to find out.

  Worst of all, the killer already had Gretchen in his clutches. Being shot first wouldn’t guarantee Gretchen’s safety. It would only guarantee that I was unable to investigate her situation further. I had to find a way to save us both. But if it came down to the wire, I didn’t know if I would choose her or myself.

  “What are you doing?” I asked him in the steadiest voice I could manage.

  “I’m going to kill her. In front of the window and you.” The gun maintained its focus as he hefted Gretchen in his muscular right arm. She was 110 pounds soaking wet. For him, shifting her weight was like moving a large stuffed animal. The killer balanced her limp body against his with the same ease as he pointed the gun. “Now,” he started, “I’m going to slit her throat, and that’s going to make quite a mess. You would be best off leaving.” He shooed me away with the tip of his gun.

  “No,” I said in a hushed voice. The threat was as empty as it sounded, and he reacted accordingly.

  “You will leave, because you don’t want to die. You didn’t have the foresight to bring anything dangerous, so you’re going to vanish when shit hits the fan. How are you going to stop me anyway?”

  “I know what you look like, and I can scream. Someone will come.”

  “Why haven’t you done that already? Her father is in the other room. He would be here with his hunting rifle in an instant.”

  “Because I want answers from you. Why are you doing this?”

  The man scoffed and rolled the tip of the gun in a small circle. “I’m the one who should be getting answers. Who are you? And why did you sneak into this teenage girl’s room? She doesn’t have a brother. That means you’re some sort of Peeping Tom. That’s another good reason you won’t be squealing and alerting her daddy and his rifle.”

  Hopelessness burned inside me. The killer had called all my bluffs, and worse, he had a gun. I was kicking myself for how stupid I was. I thought I could save Gretchen, but I obviously didn’t care enough about her to prepare effectively. I fell back on the last bluff I had. “You’re not going to kill me,” I said without feeling the words. Then I considered breathing slowly to escape the situation.

  “I will,” he replied instantly. I could see that Gretchen’s body was leaning against him, and while it was light, I suspected it might be enough to throw him off balance. I began formulating a plan to rush him, calculating where to hit so I could throw off his weight, despite my lean teenage body. At best, I could wrestle the gun free. If I could do that, then there would be hope for saving Gretchen’s life this time.

  The hope evaporated when I heard the click of him cocking the hammer of the gun. “I’m going to kill you on the count of three, and then I’m going to kill the girl. One.”

  Is this worth the risk? I wondered.

  “Two,” his voice echoed in the dark room, despite him letting out a whisper.

  I could come back again, in another world. I would bring a gun and kill this menace myself. But it would mean forsaking another Gretchen. But the truth was I didn’t know who he was, so there was no way to find him beforehand. The paths were laid out in front of me. I weighed the options I could pursue: rush the man now, or leave and try to save another Gretchen. However, unless I acted now, this Gretchen would die.

  “Three,” he said, I saw his finger twinge, and I instinctually reacted by sucking in a deep breath.

  I exhaled and stared at the ceiling of my bedroom. My mind raced, thinking about the Gretchen I had abandoned, and what her fate might become. I glanced at the clock on my bedside table. The red colon flashed, and I saw 3:15 in boxy red numbers. It immediately switched to 3:16 as I caught my breath. I hadn’t died. My body, or at least my consciousness, reacted to the information around it and fled at the absolute last second.

  I tried to reach my mind out, attempting to find the last Todd I had possessed. Thoughts ran through the foreground of my mind, but I couldn’t focus on the right time or place. Or I couldn’t reach him because he had died.

  I got out of bed and sat cross-legged and stared at the blank bedroom wall. I breathed slow and deep for five cycles of breath. I was determined to force my body and mind back under my control. Finally calm, I reached out again, pushing unhelpful thoughts out of my mind, ignoring the alarm bells, wondering how much time had passed. A minute, thirty seconds at a minimum, I figured. Either way, it would have been enough time for the killer to shoot the Todd I’d left behind. It definitely would have been more than enough for him to kill the drugged Gretchen I neglected. I had nothing to show for this abandonment but a racing heart and a cluttered mind.

  I inhaled and exhaled repetitively. Then I felt my mind lock onto the specific body I wanted to be in. The default Todd is still alive, I realized. This thought was followed with, What about Gretchen? But I transferred my consciousness to find out the answer. I shoved the current and confused Todd out of the way.

  I opened my eyes and took in the horrific scene. My skin was wet, my clothes were heavy, and Gretchen lay dead on the ground in front of me. My hand was being dragged to the ground by the weight in it.

  The tank top Gretchen had been sleeping in showed a gaping hole in its chest. The innards of her torso were exposed, and there was a black ring of gunpowder surrounding the wound. The world spun around me, and a burly man barged through the door. A woman followed into the doorway, then screamed. All of this happened as I held back my urge to vomit.

  I recognized the new arrivals as Gretchen’s parents, though it took longer than it should have. Her father started rushing at me. His hairy arms were outstretched as if to strangle me. I lifted the weight in my hand and pointed it at him. He froze in his tracks, swearing. My ears were ringing, and I didn’t care to listen to the words.

  His wife, who was standing behind him, scrambled off down the hall. Hopefully, she’ll call the police.

  The killer was nowhere in sight. The blinds were still open, but the window was shut. There was blood all over the floor, but no sign of a third person’s footprints. The killer would have been hard-pressed to escape without leaving a cartoon-style footpath of blood.

  “You’re a God damn monster.” The father spat the words at me.

  I registered the man’s curses. From his perspective, he was right. The killer had done an outstanding job setting me up. Anyone looking at the scene would have thought I had pulled the trigger myself. If I hadn’t seen the other man in the room, I also would have believed my eyes.

  I could have argued with the father, explained that I was the one trying to save her. Tell him how for thousands of lifetimes I had watched her die
. I could explain how I attempted to save her in hundreds more, but had then all but given up hope. I doubted he would be as receptive as his daughter had been lifetimes ago.

  I wouldn’t know how to bring up the fact that this was the first real chance I had to save her. How would I explain that this was my opportunity to do something for her? And then I’d explain how I had fled at the first threat on my long life. I couldn’t explain to this man that I let his daughter die just to save my own long life, one that I didn’t even want to have a while ago.

  Instead of explaining all this to the man, I simply said, “Stay there. Your wife is probably calling the cops.” Then I firmed the grip on the gun to keep him from interfering with me.

  “You bet your ass she is!” he said. “And she knows the safe’s code. She’ll be in here with the rifle, and I’ll take care of you before the cops even get here.”

  I felt the weight of the gun in my hand and wondered if there was even any ammo left. If the killer was smart, he would have left me with an empty cartridge. The gun I pointed at the father might be harmless. “I’ll be gone long before that happens,” I said, hoping I was right, for both the default Todd’s and my sake.

  “Where are you going to go?” he asked, making himself big enough to take up the whole doorway. I heard beeping in the other room and the movement of metal. He smiled, and I didn’t blame him. If I didn’t act quickly, he would take his revenge.

  I put the cold metal of the gun in my mouth. I took a deep breath and exhaled. My breath fogged the dark metal of the gun. As I breathed through time and space, the only thing that went through my mind was, I hope the default Todd has enough sense to pull the trigger, instead of trying to explain his way out of the situation.

  6

  SUV

  I opened my eyes. I was lying in bed on March 20, and I would have to live through another Sunday with my parents. But after the chaos that was Gretchen’s murder, a few chores might calm me down. I made up an excuse to get out of the house in the afternoon, and I spent the time trying to get my hands on a gun. Unfortunately for me, this was harder than I suspected. Gun laws in the early 21st century were a little stricter than the history books made them out to be.