by C J M Naylor
“It’s fine,” I said back to him. I now remembered from the Timekeeper’s Ball that there had been mention that the American Timekeeper was famous amongst the ladies. I now saw why, and I was rather curious. “Do you have lots of children?”
He burst out laughing at my comment. “I’m sorry?” he said, trying to restrain himself. “Why would I have lots of children?”
“Oh, I just thought....” I responded, confused, color flooding my cheeks.
"There are—well, there are ways to—avoid that. Conception, I mean," Thomas said, now looking as uncomfortable as me.
I glanced at my lap, feeling foolish. Now that I thought about it, I'd heard whispers about such things.
“Abby, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m getting the feeling that you’ve lived a somewhat sheltered life. Am I correct?”
I swallowed and raised my gaze. "I suppose so."
I grabbed the expenses folder and began to subtract them from the budget as he had asked. I wasn’t upset with him or anything. It was just that I had a longing for something more, for Phillip. By now, we would have been married. And the conversation I had just had with Thomas had reminded me of that. Maybe we would have had our own home. I imagined it—the perfect place; somewhere in the country. And in our home, we would have a library that housed the things we loved the most in this world besides our family and friends. Books.
As I continued to look over the materials in front of me, I heard Thomas stand up and come around behind me. A hand touched my shoulder and I looked up to see him looking at me.
“I apologize if I offended you with my comments,” he said. “I just felt like you wanted an answer. I usually don’t discuss such things.”
“It’s fine,” I responded softly. “It wasn’t really what you said that upset me.” I thought about it for a moment, and then I decided to find out what he knew.
“What do you know about the reasons as to why I had to come to America?” I asked him.
He looked at me for a moment and then took a seat again behind his desk.
“Well,” Thomas said, folding his hands in his lap, “I know what happened on the Tower Bridge, and other than that, I know that there was some kind of conflict of interest because Mathias is your father.”
“I had a premonition,” I told him. “I had a premonition that my fiancé, Phillip Hughes, was going to die in an air raid bombing and I went to try and save him.” I did my best to choke back tears as I recounted the night of running to save Phillip, but they still came. I told Thomas how Mathias had not tried to stop me after I left. I told him how I had been running to save the man I loved, and how, on the way, I realized I couldn’t. I also told him about the deaths of my parents. And before I knew it, I was spilling everything to him. Everything to this man I barely knew. Because he made me feel comfortable. He made me feel safe. And I hadn’t felt safe in a long, long time. Not since Phillip.
When I was done speaking, Thomas handed me a handkerchief to dry my tears. He looked at me for a moment, considering me, before he spoke.
“I’m so sorry, Abigail. I’ve never known loss quite like that. My father is still alive, and when my mother passed away, it was expected. She suffered from an illness for a long time before she finally went. But to have so many of your loved ones die, so unexpectedly, and so near each other, I just can’t imagine that. But I’m here for you. I want you to know that.”
“Thank you,” I responded, as I continued to dab at the pouring tears. “I better, um, get to subtracting these expenses.”
Thomas smiled at me and nodded.
“Very well,” he said. “I need to be off. Feel free to use my desk and chair, and if you need anything, remember that Gertrude is here to help as well.”
I nodded at him, and he smiled again, stood up, and left the office.
I sat there wondering why I felt so comfortable around him. I had just poured out part of myself to him, and the scary part was that I was glad I had done it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
October 1944
The next several weeks passed in a blur; now that I was spending time working, the hallucinations were happening less. I also saw less of Bridget and Ian. As of yet, I still had not seen Ian at the library, so I continued to assume he used a different entrance to gain access to the Headquarters. October quickly arrived, and I worked at the library during the day and usually made my way home directly after. I realized it would be good for me to do more outside of the apartment, but I felt I was at least making a start at getting out more.
Thomas hadn’t been lying when he said he was rarely at his desk. I could count on one hand the number of times he had been at his desk in the last three weeks, so usually, when I arrived in the morning, I chose to make myself right at home there, as he had said I could. When it all came down to it, the job wasn’t that difficult. I simply needed to keep track of the budget and make sure that the library stayed within its monthly limits as far as budgeting needs were concerned.
I stood up to pour myself a glass of water from a pitcher that Thomas kept in the office. As I did so, I stopped breathing.
I was in the library, the San Francisco Public Library, but I was in the main room, near the checkout desk.
“Emily,” a familiar voice said.
I turned and saw Gertrude, who was in charge of historical records, approaching a girl at the checkout desk.
“Yes, Ms. Francis?”
“I received Mr. Jane’s permission to head out early tonight,” Gertrude replied. “Do you think you’ll be able to handle the counter for the rest of the evening?”
Emily smiled. “Of course, Ms. Francis. Have a lovely evening!”
“You do the same,” said Gertrude, nodding at Emily and turning on her heel.
For whatever reason, I felt inclined to follow Gertrude out of the library and down the front steps, toward the street. She walked quickly, her purse clanging against her side as she moved.
Once at the bottom, she turned and looked both ways, waiting to cross the street. I looked around and saw a car going out of control, heading off the street and onto the path, toward the library and toward Gertrude. The car struck Gertrude, and she was thrown backward several feet.
Even from where I stood on the library steps, I could see she was dead.
“Miss Jordan.”
I snapped out of my premonition and realized I was laying on the floor of Thomas’ office, the pitcher of water shattered in pieces next to me. Luckily, none of the shards of glass had cut me, but my dress was wet with water.
“Miss Jordan?”
I looked up and was taken aback to find Gertrude standing in front of me. Gertrude. The woman about whom I had just had a premonition. The woman who was about to die.
“Y-y-yes?” I stuttered.
“Are you quite alright?”
She bent down and began picking up the pieces of glass on the floor. I quickly collected myself and did the same, tossing them in the trashcan by the door and then grabbing a handful of napkins that had been on the table with the pitcher and cleaning up the puddle of water on the floor.
“I’m alright,” I said as I put the pieces in the trashcan. I looked up at her and added, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Gertrude looked perplexed. “I just came to tell you I was leaving early and found you on the floor. Are you sure you’re alright? You look quite pale.”
I looked at her for a moment and then quickly looked away, trying not to let tears eclipse my vision.
“I’m fine,” I said softly.
“Well, alright then.”
I looked back and Gertrude stood, nodded at me, and then left the office, walking toward her death.
And here I sat, allowing another person to go out into the world and die. Another death I could prevent. But I couldn’t. If I did, everyone else would suffer. I’m not sure what came over me in that moment. Perhaps I had seen too many people walk to their death, but I couldn’t be compliant any longer. I stood up and beg
an walking after Gertrude. She was already just outside the building.
I picked up my speed, but just as I was about to go through the door, a hand grabbed my arm and pulled me to a stop. I turned and found myself looking into Thomas’ eyes.
“I’m not sure this is something you are thinking through,” he said quietly.
I looked at him, aghast. He knew. Had he had the same premonition as I had?
A commotion from outside interrupted my thoughts. I heard people screaming and I quickly turned around to see the scene as it had occurred in my premonition come to life. Gertrude was dead in the street. People were running around, trying to get help. It was chaos. The clerk, Emily, came up to the door to see what was happening and she cried out.
Thomas quickly gathered himself and began to comfort Emily. The two of them walked out toward the street to see if there was anything they could do. I simply stood there, questioning my actions. If Thomas hadn’t stopped me, I could have made a horrible mistake. A terrible mistake. He didn’t know how horribly things could have gone, though. To him, he was just saving death from taking me instead. But really, he had saved the world and the lives of innocent people. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, wondering what was happening to me.
The events of the previous day had been weighing on me heavily. I knew I couldn’t go on ignoring them any longer. My inability to see things clearly almost caused me to make a decision that would affect innocent people. This was more than shell shock, as Dr. Aldridge had called it. There was something seriously wrong with me and I truly felt like it had to do with the world of the Timekeepers. I had to go back. I had to keep working in that world, and the only person I could trust to help me now was Thomas Jane.
I was sitting at my desk, working through some paperwork for Thomas while I waited for him to arrive for the day. I assumed he was down in the Headquarters, working on something to do with Timekeeping.
Footsteps could be heard outside the office door, and I quickly collected myself so I would be prepared for his arrival. The door opened and Thomas stepped into the office, giving me a wide grin.
“Thomas,” I began, “there is something I need to talk to you about.”
“You’re ready to join us?” he responded.
I gave him a confused look and he simply added, “Premonition,” while tapping his head.
“Well, I’m not sure what exactly your premonition showed you,” I said, “but it’s more than that. I really need to tell you the truth, so if you could sit for a moment, I will.”
He did as I asked and I began pouring out everything to this man I had only known for a couple weeks. I started at the beginning, about how I had come into this world and how Mathias had originally lied to me and told me I would die if I hadn’t. I told him how my mother wanted to keep me away from all of this and why it was now too late to stay away. I told him about the man who had approached me at the ball and told me that I was an original Timekeeper. I also explained how the voices had never really gone away; that even when they were full-fledged premonitions, I would still hear voices advising me not to do something or telling me I was a killer, and that I could no longer tell the difference between Timekeeping or if I was simply going mad. I explained the events that had been taking place recently and why I felt I now needed to return to this world.
Thomas simply sat there and took in everything I said. He didn’t jump in and ask questions. He didn’t stop me to offer his own suggestions. He just listened, and there was something refreshing in that.
“Thank you for telling me this,” Thomas said when it was clear I was finished. “Did this Elijah tell you what the prophecy was about?”
I shook my head. “He only told me it was made thousands of years ago and it wasn’t good. We didn’t have a lot of time to hash out the details.”
“Have you told anyone else about this…” Thomas stopped for a second, appearing to find the right word, “… ability, to continue hearing voices?”
“No,” I said. “I honestly never thought about it. I wasn’t thinking I should never hear voices again after I turned eighteen.”
“But,” Thomas went on, “the voices you have heard, are they yours? That’s the key difference. Before, they were premonitions, just not fleshed out. You could only hear them, so they wouldn’t be your voice. But if these voices speak in your voice—”
“They do,” I said. “It has always been me, ever since I turned eighteen.”
“Then I might have an idea of what is going on,” Thomas said. “I need the library. Follow me.”
I followed Thomas out of the office, but was surprised when he walked in the opposite direction of the main library.
“I thought you said you needed the library?” I called after him.
“Not that kind of library.”
I understood and followed Thomas to the end of the office hallway. He took out his set of keys and unlocked the door at the end, beckoning me to follow him. As soon as I stepped into the room beyond, he shut the door behind me, and relocked it. We were in what appeared to be a maintenance room. I laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Thomas asked, making his way in front of me.
“Do we always hide our secret Headquarter entrances in the maintenance room?”
“Not always.” He looked at me, gave me a wink, and then continued forward.
We walked deeper into the room and then stopped when we got to the middle. Thomas looked down at a rug on the floor, knelt down, and pulled it aside. In the rug’s place was an intricate drawing of a clock, with an indent in the middle that looked just big enough to place a pocket watch into. Thomas pulled a pocket watch out of his shirt, unchained it from his neck, and placed it in the indent.
The sound of air pouring fourth, and stone grinding against stone, erupted into the room and the stone with the clock began to move aside into the wall, revealing a wide opening. Thomas stepped forward, where the stone had been, and began to walk down what I assumed to be stairs. He looked at me and then said, “Coming?” I broke my trance and followed him. We proceeded to make our way down a spiral staircase.
When we reached the bottom, the room we stepped into was a room that had not been at the London Headquarters. The London Headquarters had had shelves of books, but this room was an actual library. I gazed up to look at the vaulted ceilings above us, intricate designs of clocks were painted on the ceiling above. There were also pictures of men and women in long robes, pocket watches held by a long chain in their hands. The beauty of the paintings amazed me. The library itself was lined with shelves and shelves of books. I could smell the pages of the old, worn, and tattered books. It reminded me so much of the London Library, or what it used to be.
The other thing that caught my attention though, were the people hustling and bustling about. It wasn’t just one person here and there, but person, after person, after person. It made me think I was in some sort of office building, with everyone moving around from place to place to complete their duties for the day.
“Who are all these people?” I asked.
Thomas gave me a quizzical look for a moment, but then comprehension came over his face.
“I forget that you’ve only been in the London Headquarters,” he said. “Well, one of the reasons Mathias was never popular with the Council was because he insisted on doing everything himself. A normal Timekeeping Headquarters will generally have anywhere from fifty to a hundred people doing various duties, based on the size of the country.”
“You mean all of these Timekeepers work for you?” I asked, appalled that such a young man as Thomas had so many people under his command.
“In a sense yes, but I’m not your normal, everyday boss.” Thomas winked at me again and then proceeded to head toward a section of books clearly labeled under “P.”
As we made our way into the section, several people bustled past me, some even giving me a strange look.
“Some people are giving me strange looks,” I said. “Do they know who I
am?”
Thomas looked up and down the rows of shelves, trying to find whatever he was looking for. He spoke while continuing to look for a book. “Many of them have heard the story of what happened on the Tower Bridge in London. It caused quite a stir in our society, as so many were too daft to actually think that there could be evil Timekeepers. They all heard that you were supposed to be coming here eventually, so I’m sure many of them will make a guess at who you are. Found it!”
I looked over Thomas’ shoulder to see him pull a thick, cloth-bound book from the shelf. It was pitch black, with the exception of gold letters on the spine and front that carried the same title: Premonitions in Timekeepers. I continued to look over his shoulder and watched as he flipped to a section titled “Telepathy.”
“Telepathy?” I asked. I had heard the term before, but it was usually only something that came up in fictional books. “Isn’t that—”
“It’s when you can communicate with another person in your mind,” Thomas said, cutting me off. He flipped through the pages of the chapter quickly. He had clearly read the book before, because he appeared to know what he was doing. “I had to do research,” he continued, while still flipping the pages, “every Timekeeper does. You have to pick a specific area of study to concentrate on before you can successfully graduate from your training. My area was premonitions and in my research, I discovered a Timekeeper who had heard things that she thought were premonitions, but they weren’t. It turned out it was—” he stopped speaking and made an exclamation of triumph. “Found it.”
He turned the book around in his arms and pointed with an index finger at a passage that he wanted me to read. I stepped forward and began to read.
Telepathy in Timekeepers
The power of Telepathy is a curious one in the society of Timekeepers. It continues to befuddle researchers of the Timekeeping abilities, but evidence seems to suggest that the power only occurs between twins, both born with the Timekeeping ability. Initially, when first reported, the Timekeeper in question experienced voices she could interact with. These voices were in stark contrast to the previous voices she had heard (premonitions, before the eighteenth birthday), as they were clearly her own voice and there was also the component of interaction—a component not present in normal premonitions. It was later discovered that the Timekeeper had a long-lost twin, and the two had been separated at birth. Another interesting thing to note is that the power of telepathy is more noticeable in twins who are separated, rather than those that grew up together.