In Times Like These Boxed Set

by Nathan Van Coops

  But there’s that little girl.

  She came back. She braved a trip into the past to come find me. To ask for my help. And I made her a promise.

  She needs her dad back, and that’s what she’s going to get.

  The sound of hooves outside inspires activity in the house. Voices.

  In a matter of minutes, I’m reliving the slightly more muffled sounds of my day.

  Smiley and Wiggy are back. They bring me inside.

  I clutch the handle of my barrel lid and strain my ears to listen. Piper’s dad is rousted from his place and forced out into the main room for the video. My earlier self is there. He argues. As I lift the lid of the barrel again, I catch sight of him through the doorway. He spins around to pilfer the cast iron plate off the mantel.

  This never gets less surreal.

  I hide again as my other selves are escorted into the pantry. The door slams shut and I’m officially trapped. There’s no getting out of this now. If my earlier self discovers me here it would be paradox city. This pantry is probably already straining the space-time continuum as it is, hosting three versions of the same person. I have no idea what the temporal fabric of the fractal universe is doing with this fact, but I’m not about to test it further.

  I close my eyes.

  The sound of my other selves speaking to each other is oddly soothing. I’ve experienced the conversation before, so it’s like listening to a replay of a favorite audiobook or a familiar song. Piper’s dad begins explaining his breakup with Mym, his issues as a husband and father. I ignore the words but listen to the earnestness in his voice. His emotion is raw and honest, especially when he’s talking about Piper.

  He’ll do the right thing by her.

  He’d better.

  My legs are cramped before long, but I’m not in a mood to complain. It’s a good feeling to be experiencing anything at all. I’ve even grown used to the dirty potato smell. Maybe that’s just my brain trying to talk me out of my plan.

  But it’s too late. I’m in this to the end now.

  Nightfall comes before I know it. The two other versions of me in the pantry have settled down. I let them sleep for a while before lifting the lid on the barrel. I slip it aside and gingerly adjust my feet in the darkness.

  One last danger to face.

  My legs have gone numb in the barrel, so I wait for circulation to return before attempting to stand.

  My other selves are breathing quietly. One of me is on the grain sacks, the other slumped against the wall on the floor. Past and future, fast asleep.

  I let minutes creep past. Then an hour. I wait till the version of me on the floor sounds like he’s in a deep sleep before throwing a leg over the side of the barrel. I slip to the floor, gently laying the lid aside.

  Here’s where things get tricky.

  I edge over to Piper’s dad and get down to his level. Putting one hand over his mouth, I give him a gentle shake with the other.

  “Shhh. Don’t make any noise,” I whisper the moment he stirs.

  It’s hard to see in the darkness, but he doesn’t sound alarmed. It makes sense. He’s probably assuming I’m the version of me he was just talking to.

  “I need you to do what I say, and just trust me, no questions asked.” He doesn’t respond immediately. “It’s for Piper,” I add.

  “What do I need to do?”

  I help the older me up. That’s when he senses the other person in the room. The breathing of my earlier self on the floor is loud enough to give away that I’m not him.

  “Where did you come from?” Piper’s dad whispers.

  “The future.” I guide him the few feet toward the mostly empty potato barrel and instruct him to get inside.

  “You sure you know what you’re doing?” he asks.

  “You said you wanted to know the escape plan. This is it.”

  It only takes a few seconds to get him into the barrel. “They’ll be in at first light. They’re going to take us outside. That’s when you run. Get to the barn and take one of the horses. Then get to the time gate as fast as you can and get out of here. Your daughter is going to be waiting for you on the other side.”

  I give him the coordinates to the time gate that will get him back to Piper and make him repeat them several times, and I confirm the route to the barn until he’s confident he knows it.

  “What’s going to happen to you?” he asks.

  “That’s already been handled.”

  “You’re sure?”

  I hand him the lid to the barrel. “What happened, happened. I’m just living it over now. I’m counting on you for the rest. Piper needs your help. Go to her.”

  He doesn’t argue any further.

  Once he’s settled in the barrel, there’s nothing else to be done but to wait. I take his place on the grain sacks, running through the plan in my head. I’m suddenly very tired. I’m about to lean back and fall asleep when I remember the bag for my head. Come morning, my other self can’t know it’s me. I scrounge around on the floor until I find the sack and a bit of twine, then slip it over my head. I secure the bag loosely around my neck, making sure I can still breathe okay. Won’t do to suffocate myself before morning. I lay back on the grain sacks and work to slow my breathing. Surprisingly, sleep calls me right away.

  I have strange dreams.

  The leaves of the blood-red maple tree wave in the breeze.

  Piper is wandering through the abandoned theme park trailed by an army of animatronic robots. Thick electrical cables twist and wind past her feet like so many snakes. The sky is full of falling stars. Meteorites.

  The door creaks open.

  Morning.

  It came so fast.

  “You that excited to be on TV that you couldn’t wait?” Wiggy’s voice is mocking as he grasps my wrists and binds them. When he’s done, he steps back. Thankfully, he doesn’t mess with the bag on my head. “I didn’t bring enough rope. I’ll grab some more. Wake the other one.” His footsteps disappear but I’m not alone. Smiley steps across the room and wakes my other self, then backs away.

  I can hear him stirring. Then he freezes.

  “Wait, you’re getting this all wrong!” he exclaims.

  “Get up. We’re going outside,” Smiley orders.

  “You’re making a mistake here.”

  Wiggy’s footsteps return. “Come on, Travers.” He mutters curses to himself as he ties my other self’s wrists.

  “Listen. This is very important. When we get outside, I need to be on the right.” My earlier self is desperate. “The right! You understand?”

  At least I was earnest. Can’t fault myself for trying.

  I can’t help but wonder what Piper’s dad is thinking, listening from inside the barrel.

  I’m helped to my feet and shoved toward the front of the house. Near the doorway, I collide with my earlier self. I can feel his anxiety. It’s almost tangible.

  “Don’t worry, it’s going to be okay.” I try to sound reassuring. Technically I’m lying.

  We’re shoved onward and around the side of the house. I listen intently for Epaulettes. If we are all accounted for, then Piper’s dad will be in the clear.

  “I need to be on the right, okay?” My other self repeats his plea. “Please!”

  “Will you shut up?” Smiley is getting annoyed.

  “It’s important. Please make sure I’m on the right.”

  “You’re on the right already. You happy now?” Wiggy replies.

  Someone finishes tying me to the post. I try to keep my heart from beating out of my chest. This seems to be happening even faster than I remembered it.

  “Ben? You okay?” I jolt at the question. I forgot I asked myself that. For a moment I’m about to speak, but stop myself. If he knows where I’m standing he’ll know we’re in the wrong places. He needs to stay there. And he needs to live.

  “Will you please shut him up?”

  Epaulettes. Good. Everyone is still in their places. Despite the severi
ty of my circumstances, I let myself smile. Piper’s dad is going to make it. Even now he’s probably sneaking into the barn, stealing a horse, preparing for his ride. We only have to go through the motions here now. My job is done. Piper will be safe.

  “They didn’t say which one. I guess we get to pick.” Epaulettes is prepping his musket.

  Shit. This is it.

  I take a deep breath.

  God. If you’re up there . . . I could use—

  The blast still takes me by surprise. I stagger back from the impact, my wrists catching on the hitching post. It’s like being punched by a . . . bullet.

  My knees go weak. Damn. My head is already getting fuzzy. Warmth is wicking from my chest. Going where? I teeter and fall. A swirl of color opens up in my vision. I’m plummeting into an endless abyss. The earth catches me momentarily. My senses flare. Dirt. Grass. The smells. Ringing in my ears. I gasp. A breath. I’m still here. It’s not so bad. I’m cold, but my vision is clearing. No more dingy burlap sack. I’m looking across forever. The universe is expanding around me. I try to swallow. Something is choking back my breath now. It’s okay. I don’t need it. Not anymore.

  I’m standing now. Floating maybe? Looking down on my own prostrate body. Epaulettes is there. Smiley. Wiggy. My other self is yelling, cursing their brutality. I wish I could tell him it’s okay. If he could see what I see, he wouldn’t be upset. How could he be? All of this is just a tiny sliver of time. His life stretches out into the forever. My life.

  It’s hard to be upset about my situation in the face of this much beauty. I let my anger go. It vanishes like a weight dropped into a bottomless pool. The rest of my stresses follow. There are a million colors here—a billion musical sounds. I can feel them humming through every bit of me.

  It’s calling. The eternity. It’s been here the whole time, in every last molecule I possessed and more. It’s the pulsing, vibrating fabric of space and time and a dozen dimensions I couldn’t have described if I tried. But there’s one I recognize. It’s been a tingle in my spine in the best moments of my life. Love. Love of life. Love of this amazing, flawed, incredible universe. If I still had a spine, it would be tingling.

  I take one last look around me, trying to focus on the here and the now. It’s so hard. Time is an ocean with no horizon, and this little moment is just the smallest speck. I hold onto it for a final glittering second—a last instant of me, frozen in time.

  Then I let go.

  24

  “Keep close to the people you care about. Stay in touch. Time is an ocean with many currents, and one day it may sweep away someone you love. Hands clasped in friendship are not easily parted.” -Journal of Dr. Harold Quickly, 1928

  Strange dreams.

  A blood-red maple tree. A collapsing roller coaster. A universe of color. Potatoes?

  I’m being shaken awake. Someone’s hand is over my mouth.

  “Hey, don’t make any noise.”

  I stir slowly. I’m propped against the wall of the pantry. I don’t know when I fell asleep.

  He’s looming over me in the semi-darkness. Piper’s dad.

  “I need you to listen to me and do what I tell you to do without question. Can you do that?” He slowly removes his hand from my mouth.

  “Um. Yeah, I think so. Are you working on a new plan to—” I stop talking when I realize there is someone else breathing in this room. Against the wall, asleep on the grain sacks. “Who else is . . .”

  “Don’t worry about him. He’ll be fine.” Piper’s dad helps me to my feet and guides me a few steps to my right. “Put your hands out here. Feel the edge of this barrel. I need you to get inside.”

  “In the barrel?”

  “No arguing. I didn’t argue with you.”

  “What? When?”

  “Never mind. I know this is confusing. Just get in.”

  I climb slowly into the barrel. It smells like potatoes. The cast iron plate I have under my shirt bumps against my chest and I hold it with one hand. “What about our body armor plan?”

  “Oh, right. You won’t be needing that.”

  I detach the plate from the strand of twine holding it on and pass it to him. He accepts it and sets it aside.

  “Stay quiet in there. Come morning, they are going to come get us. That’ll be your chance to slip out. Get to the barn, steal a horse, and get to the time gate. I have some coordinates for you.” He lists me off some coordinates and asks me to repeat them.

  I do, but then I stop to argue. “Wait. This is a date in the 2100s. I left Piper in 1958. I need to get back to her.”

  “A lot has happened since then. You won’t remember it, but Piper is waiting for you in the future now.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m going to need some help here too. What did you do to escape them last time?”

  “What? Escape who?”

  He mutters to himself. “That’s right, you won’t have any memory of that either since it hasn’t happened to you yet . . .”

  “Look man, I’m really confused right now.” I gesture toward the sacks of grain where someone is sleeping. “Which one of us is that?”

  “We still need to get him back too. Look, when you go to the barn, get two horses. One of me is getting shot in the morning. Whichever one of me makes it, I’d appreciate it if you could help get us to the time gate with you.”

  “One of you is getting shot?” I ask. “What about the video? I thought it was a version of us with a torn pant leg. Are yours ripped?” I have a hard time seeing his knees in the dark.

  My other self pushes me farther down in the barrel and picks up the lid. “Don’t worry about that. Piper will be able to explain it to you once you get back. Get out of here in the morning. Save whichever one of me is alive, and get back to Piper. The rest will be up to you guys to solve.”

  I have about a hundred questions, but I don’t get a chance to ask them. He closes the lid and silences me.

  I puzzle over the situation I’ve found myself in, but I’m not seeing all the pieces. Like why are there two of him now?

  It doesn’t take long for his predictions to start coming true. The dawn brings trouble in the form of Smiley and Wiggy opening the door and trussing people up. When the commotion has died down and the two other versions of me have been led away, I lift the lid on my wooden prison and sneak out of the pantry.

  He said to get to the barn.

  It sounded like the others went out the front door, so I opt for the back, slipping out the door and down three steps to the dirt and weeds. A billy goat is tied to a post by a long tether and has been munching the grass down to little nubs in a wide circle. It bleats at me as I rush past it.

  I don’t look back. I just run. The barn is seventy yards to the west. I’m fortunate that it’s a direction not visible from the hitching posts. Inside, I find three horses in their stalls. There are saddle blankets on a rack and several saddles. They’re not the western saddles I’ve used before, but a more minimalist-looking version. I trust the general concept is the same. That leaves the matter of the horses.

  It would be wise to try to pick the fastest horses, but since I have no idea how to assess that, I go for the ones that look least likely to kick me.

  I’m unlatching a gate to one of the stalls when the gunshot echoes across the barnyard. I jolt. To the horses’ credit, none of them are spooked in the slightest.

  Someone just got shot.

  The reality of the danger makes me work faster. I bridle the first horse and throw a blanket and saddle over its back.

  Up at the house, someone is shouting.

  I tighten the strap on the saddle, then sneak over to the barn wall and peer through a chink in a pair of the boards. I can’t see anything. They must still be up at the house. How am I supposed to rescue my other self? Piper’s dad was pretty vague on that detail.

  The second horse backs away from me when I enter the stall, so I do my best to calm myself down before approaching it. I won’t be r
escuing anybody if I get a hoof to the face.

  Fortunately the horse lets me bridle and saddle it without further complaint. I lead the two horses to the door of the barn and pause to look out. Three men are walking across the field, headed south. One is dragging a body. Wiggy has a gun pointed at Piper’s dad and is forcing him along. All three are headed toward a blood-red maple tree.

  The sight of the tree gives me pause. I get a strange feeling of déjà vu. My dream. But I saw it closer in my dream, didn’t I?

  I’m too far away to get the jump on them from here. There’s no way they wouldn’t see me coming and just shoot me off my horse. I need a better plan.

  The edge of the woods is only a dozen yards away behind the barn. The trees wrap all the way around the clearing, ultimately joining the red maple tree. I can get there, I’ll just need to move quickly.

  I lead the two horses around the barn and into the woods without being seen. I mount the calmer of the two and lead the other by the reins. I encourage my horse into a trot, and it deftly dodges thickets and ditches, even nimbly leaping over several fallen logs. This is clearly not its first time navigating the woods. Dexterous as my mount is, I fear the amount of noise I’m making. When I get closer to where my other self is being held prisoner, I slow the horses to a gentle walk, then stop when I hear voices.

  Through the trees I can just make out the figures of Wiggy and Smiley. Wiggy has a pistol that isn’t very colonial, and he’s using it to guard Piper’s dad, who has been given a shovel and is in the process of digging a hole.

  Okay. He’s still alive. So far so good.

  Smiley is standing near the body of the other man. He’s staring down at it with a curious expression on his face. Does he sense something is off?

  Smiley squats next to the body. What is he doing?

  I shift a little closer to get a better view. It looks like he’s untying the twine around the victim’s neck. That’s not good. If he removes the bag he’ll see the switch. Will he recognize that it’s not me? My stomach sinks as he reaches for the bag.

  I need a distraction. What would get someone’s attention in colonial times?

  I cup my hands to my mouth and shout. “The Redcoats are coming! The Redcoats are coming!”