An Echo Through Time: A Novella

by Nicholas Licalsi

  The time in the hospital was spent thinking about what the old teacher had said. This body needed to heal as much as my consciousness. I’d jumped from one universe to the next, trying to keep Gretchen alive by seeing her. But I never took stock of how much pain it was causing me.

  Before I was pumped full of drugs, I shared the license plate number of the car that hit Gretchen with the authorities. The police enthusiastically took the information I offered them. News channels milked the story for as long as it was scary and new. Then they stopped to cover the next horrific community event.

  For the school week following the incident, I was pushed around in my chair by a kid named Henry. Henry was a vague memory to me. We had been childhood friends, but he washed out compared to anyone I had met in the future and past. Like most, he was an average, unremarkable, passive teenage boy.

  At lunch a week after the accident, I was contemplating how much longer I would stick around in this world. I was also actively ignoring an itch in my cast. Henry, looking for some lunchtime conversation, said, “Did you hear about what happened with Gretchen’s killer?”

  We were seated at one of the handicap tables. In the beginning, other kids came by and offered empty condolences for the first few days, but no one sat with me for the whole meal except for Henry. His friendly concern for me pulled me out of my head and into the world.

  “No. Did they figure out what happened?” I asked while one-handedly feeding myself a bologna sandwich.

  “They found him at his house. He committed suicide. They didn’t say how, but they said there was alcohol in his system. All his neighbors said he was an alcoholic. But none of them thought he would ever do something this awful. At least that’s according to the interviews.”

  “Did they say what they think happened?”

  “They didn’t go into much detail. The article just said they found the truck in his garage with Gretchen’s DNA on it.”

  Gretchen’s splattered remains, my mind corrected.

  “They also said there was a note he wrote admitting to her death.”

  “Did he have any connection to Gretchen? Did they release his name?”

  “They didn’t mention a connection. The incident was chalked up to him being drunk during the day and happening to hit her while he was driving through a school zone. If they released a name, I don’t remember it. I remember the picture though. He had a real ugly mug.”

  Sure enough, when I looked up the article in my next class, there was a picture. Henry was right. The man looked weird. The man looked to be in his thirties, but the article listed him in his forties. It must have been an older picture, I thought. He had a scraggly beard and an unkempt receding hair line. He seemed too lazy to trim it or style it in any way, so he merely let it grow past his shoulders, hoping the length would help his looks. It didn’t.

  The murderer in the article looked nothing like the killer I had run into in Gretchen’s room the other night. Staring at the man’s picture, I realized I half expected him to be the same person from the other night. I don’t know why I expected that. If he had looked the same, it would indicate that Gretchen’s deaths might be tied together, meaning that across universes there was a plot to kill her.

  However, that was beyond absurd. I was the only constant, and the only thing I was doing was making a half-assed effort to keep Gretchen alive. If I’d had the guts to stand in front of the car, Gretchen might have had a chance to escape. If I had rushed the man with the gun, that Gretchen might have lived, too. Both events would have been at the cost of my life, potentially ruining my unique power. I didn’t believe Gretchen’s life was worth that price. There was a nearly infinite number of her and only one time-bending Todd. I obviously cared about her. She had done something for me ages ago that made me hold onto this world. But did that mean I should sacrifice my power for her?

  I stared back down at my phone and looked at the face of another one of Gretchen’s killers. There was nothing I could do to bring the past Gretchens back to life. But I could see her again, do my best to save her, and hope that I didn’t die in the process. She had done something amazing for me in the past. I owed it to her to try and do something amazing for her.

  I took a deep breath in the middle of class. I heard the teacher stop talking, but by the time I exhaled I was gone. I was ready to take the fire of hope that was in my heart to see another Gretchen. And maybe with enough tries, I would find one that would survive.

  * * *

  I lay in bed waiting for March 21 to start. My arm no longer had a muted burning sensation, and I was able to lie on my left side. The time for rest and recovery was over. I was committed to finding a Gretchen that would survive.

  I debated with myself about whether or not I should go to Gretchen’s house and sneak into her backyard. I could make sure she didn’t get murdered, but decided it was extraneous. Of the thousands of universes I visited, her brutal murder had only happened twice. I settled on the agreement that if it happened again, I’d make a habit of being a Peeping Todd. Right now, the chances felt higher that this universe would resemble the car crash one. Or, if I was lucky, one where she only choked on a peanut and I had to stab an EpiPen into her thigh. As I fell asleep, I longed for those tedious and predictable worlds where I knew how she was going to die. Back when I believed there was nothing I could do to save her.

  The most eventful part of the next school day was that Gretchen didn’t die at lunch. The final bell rang and we left the school building and headed to the car. Gretchen was glad to be going to get coffee, but there was no skip in her step this time. She didn’t know how lucky she might have been today. I, on the other hand, had been on edge ever since she survived lunch, and Gretchen was picking up on my mood. As I walked out of the school, I wondered if the black SUV would be there. I put on some old sunglasses to stop the sunlight from hiding the killer.

  “Those look cute! Why don’t you ever wear those?” Gretchen asked.

  I shrugged the question off with an unimportant answer. As we got to the crosswalk, I looked at the cars waiting behind the stop sign. Sure enough, a black SUV and a red sedan were waiting for us to cross.

  Trying to delay, and to test the SUV’s intentions, I turned around and kissed Gretchen. I heard one of the cars move forward and turn into the parking lot. A horn blared from behind my back, and I turned around to observe how the scene had changed.

  “That was unexpected,” Gretchen said with a flutter in her voice.

  I smiled at her, but my focus was on the black SUV that was still sitting at the stop sign. The line of school traffic was piling up behind it, and an impatient father was honking his horn incessantly.

  “We should cross,” she pointed out, still holding my hand. This time a blue sedan had pulled up next to the unmoving black SUV.

  “What if I want to kiss you more?” I asked Gretchen.

  She blushed and quickly replied, “Then we can do it in the car like normal teenagers.”

  Gretchen started to walk into the street, still holding my hand. The black SUV stayed in its spot. I yanked her arm to pull her back from the curb. The pull was harder than expected.

  “Ow!” she cried, letting go of my hand.

  The blue sedan that was waiting for us to cross got impatient.

  Gretchen’s face was steaming. “What was that for? Don’t you want to get coffee? Why are you so eager to stand here at the curb?”

  The car stuck behind the SUV honked again. Gretchen assumed it was a cue for her to cross, so she stepped off the curb.

  I followed, knowing I was a fool to think that I could keep Gretchen on this side of the road forever. I caught up with her after only a few quick paces. As we crossed the spot where the crosswalk interrupted the yellow lines that designated the middle of the road, I heard the SUV’s heavy engine hum as it accelerated from the stop.

  “Gretchen, run!” I exclaimed as I tried to get between her and the vehicle.

  She gave me a confused look as I s
tared down the black threat.

  The sun was bright, but my tinted lenses cut through the reflection that shielded the driver. Behind the wheel was not the long haired, scruffy alcoholic I saw in the article. Instead it was the full-haired, muscular killer with a five o’clock shadow who had slit Gretchen’s throat in front of the window only a few days ago.

  I ran between Gretchen and the car, keeping between them as best I could while she ran towards the curb for safety. Once I had gotten into a position where I felt like I was set up to protect her, I quickly inhaled. I felt the heat of the engine next to me and I let out a heavy exhale.

  I was out of the center of the road and safely lying in my bed. I waited for my heartbeat to catch up with the thoughts that raced through my mind. Had my body saved Gretchen? I tried to breathe back into it, but couldn’t find it. If it had died, I didn’t know if I would be able to reach that universe again. I might never know if that Gretchen had survived.

  I took a deep breath in, felt my mind hook on the frantic mind of the Todd that potentially just gotten hit by the car. I pushed his consciousness out of the way. It almost seemed grateful as I exhaled and took control of his body.

  Nothing hurt except my lungs, which had been pushing air in and out quicker than they were ever intended to. I looked around to quickly assess the scene. The black SUV and its familiar driver were gone. Gretchen’s body was not.

  She lay on the side of the road, limp. I rushed to her, putting even more strain on my lungs. How had this happened? I yelled in my head. I had been on a path to at least blunt the force. Instead, I was untouched, and Gretchen was dead, again.

  Her body had found a resting place against a lamp. Her blood covered the concrete at the bottom of the post. The grass and dirt were greedily absorbing as much as they could. I looked at the curb, and there were tire tracks that had been left from the SUV that had deliberately driven off of the road.

  My mind pieced the mystery together. Gretchen had gotten to safety, but the killer had intentionally hopped the curb to run her down. A random drunk driver didn’t cause this death. The fact that it was the same man that killed Gretchen before was the final piece of evidence to convince me that there was a plot behind her death. I was unsure if it was merely related to Gretchen, or if I somehow connected to the mess.

  I calmed my breathing. My lungs still stung from rapidly inhaling the cool March air. Teachers and students started to circle the incident. As soon as my breath was calm, I closed my eyes and inhaled.

  By the time I exhaled, I was lying in bed with the bland taste of meatloaf in my mouth. I started to slow my breathing again, this time to force myself to sleep. I would need all the rest I could get, because tomorrow I was going to do whatever it took to keep Gretchen alive.

  8

  Suffocation

  Gretchen survived lunch and the afternoon periods. We walked out of the school holding hands. We meandered down the sidewalk that would take us to our cars. We got to the curb off of which Gretchen would step into another one of her deaths.

  I continually told myself I should be grateful. Being able to spend a second half of the day with her was rare. Seeing her beauty in the afternoon sun was a treat. But I couldn’t take the advice I offered myself. Unfortunately, the only thought on my mind was whether or not a black SUV and a potentially pan-dimensionally flexible serial killer would be waiting at the crosswalk. Sure enough, as we got there, a red sedan and black SUV waited patiently for us to cross the street.

  Gretchen was holding my hand as we walked toward the street. Before we stepped off the curb, I gently stopped her and turned her to look at me.

  “Yes?” she asked, startled by the interruption. Her almond-colored eyes looked up at me. They were brown, wide, and confused.

  “I love you, Gretchen.” The words came out matter-of-factly. It was probably something the default Todd rarely said as a teenager. It might have been mentioned once or twice, but like most teenage romances, the word was heavy. After all, she had only experienced a few relationships. The ideas of passion and heartbreak hadn’t been a repetitive cadence throughout her life, like as it had been for me.

  There in that moment, I meant the words in a way that no one else ever could have. She had taken the time to understand me in the park countless lifetimes ago. I had then repaid her by shamelessly letting her die, and giving up hope on a chance to change it. I had become greedy, and I only cared about spending time with her. I didn’t care about helping her live longer anymore. That was over now, and I was ready to do whatever it took to keep her alive for her short mortal life.

  She smiled while the wind made her hair dance next to her ears. The sun was caught in her brown hair, turning it into a beautiful veil. As she readjusted her hair she said, “I love you too, Todd.”

  Then she leaned in and I grasped her around her waist and kissed her on the lips. I smelled the cherry blossom perfume she wore, and it was intoxicating.

  I released her, and we turned to face the street. A horn was going off, and the red car was replaced by a blue one. The black SUV hadn’t moved an inch. I knew an impatient father was about to start honking if we didn’t take a step into the road.

  We walked across the street, and our feet skipped past the halfway mark of the crosswalk. The white crosswalk bar covered the space where the yellow lines tattooed the center of the road. An engine hummed to our left. I squeezed Gretchen’s hand and let go. She looked at me confused.

  With limited time to explain, I shouted, “Run! That car isn’t going to stop.” I pointed at the black automobile. Luckily, she reacted by running, though she didn’t register the situation.

  I kept pace with her, watching the man behind the wheel. He had a thin smile on his face and drove the car with his shoulders relaxed. He didn’t look like someone who was hellbent on killing a teenage girl. He looked like he was blindly following instructions, but I had no time to think about it.

  The car and my breathing sped up. I tried to slow my breath, hoping it would give me more time. But I refused to lose ground with Gretchen. The plan was to hold onto this body until the absolute last second. This time around was going to be the time I saved Gretchen. I would put my life down for her. I was willing to give up as much of it as I had to. And if I was lucky, I would move out of this shell of a body in the nick of time.

  The car continued to close the distance, and as soon as I could feel the heat from the engine I shoved Gretchen out of the way as hard as I could. I watched her move clear of the front of the car and fall on the grass near the light post she had reached before.

  As she landed I felt the force of the grill slam into my chest. I heard a crunch come from my chest and an explosion of pain indicated at least one rib had been broken. I had absorbed all of the energy of the car. None of it was transferred to Gretchen.

  I inhaled in an attempt to breathe, but my lungs refused to fill. My body went into shock. The truck passed over me. My shoulder hit the ground, absorbing the force my head would have taken. I heard a crunch, followed by an explosion of pain in my leg. One of the wheels had made a path over it, and I knew this body wouldn’t be walking again. I heard a scream and recognized it as Gretchen’s.

  I looked over and the subtle movement sent shocks of pain through my body. It was worth it to see her safely on the other side of the road. The car’s wheels squealed, and it was off.

  The pain from my leg, shoulder, and ribs flooded my mind as I stared up at the blue March sky. I took rapid, shallow breaths, but continued to feel like I was suffocating. I heard shouts and sobbing in the background. I smelled the burning rubber from the black SUV’s getaway.

  Then my vision faded from the edges. I couldn’t see anything. The sound cut out next, then there were no smells, and finally all my body’s pain was gone.

  I felt nothing. I saw nothing. I thought nothing.

  9

  Time

  I inhaled and felt everything. A sharp, air-conditioned breeze flew down my throat. I sat in th
e back of a busy and public area. My vision was blurry. The sound of ambient music, local discussions, and cooking equipment overloaded my senses.

  My mind was being accosted by every sense. I saw a blurry image walk up to me and set something down in front of me. Then the figure sat down.

  “Don’t worry. It will fade,” he said in a soft voice. Despite his attempt at a soft tone, it felt like he was using a bullhorn. “It happens every time, but you will get used to it. Have some coffee.”

  My vision slowly came into focus. I could see the disposable cup that sat in front of me. “Todd 2” was written in sharpie. I picked it up, blew into the small opening, and took a sip. It was scorching hot, but I tasted the subtlety of every flavor. The drink was like an orchestra playing in my mouth. I savored the nuttiness of the low brass, the smooth sweetness of the woodwinds. Every flavor was on overdrive. It was far and away the best coffee I’d ever experienced. I took another sip and realized it was a familiar taste.

  “Tastes good, doesn’t it?” the man on the other side of the table asked. His voice was bearable now.

  I looked at him in an attempt to put him in focus. My head hurt, and I grimaced.

  “Don’t hurt yourself,” he instructed me. “Your vision will come back in a moment. No rush. Enjoy the coffee. You won’t be able to taste anything this good until you die again.”

  “Thid I thie?” My tongue felt heavy and hard to move. The words came out slurred.

  “Yep, right on schedule. But don’t ask me if this is heaven, because it’s not. Although some would be surprised to hear that heaven isn’t a coffee shop.”

  “Where am I?” I asked as I got control of my tongue.