Time and Technicalities (Timewalkers Book 1)

by RP Halliway

  The driver had a steely look in his eyes and was aiming straight to run over Silas. Had Silas not stepped out of the way, the motorcycle would have collided directly with him.

  Silas instinctively started running toward the motorcycle without knowing why, but only for a single second. In the time between starting to move and realizing why, Silas caught a glimpse of an object he immediately identified as a gun in the passenger’s hand. And the passenger was taking aim at Evie!

  Silas started sprinting the few yards to Evie as soon as he knew something was wrong, but the speed of the motorcycle made it impossible to catch. The first shot rang out as the motorcycle sped past Evie, lining up with her right side. Evie flinched as the bullet entered her abdomen, pushed back against the wall by the impact. She hit the wall and bounced off, but managed to stay upright, a confused look on her face.

  The second shot rang out as the motorcycle sped away, and the bullet clipped the left side of Evie’s waist, causing her to double over with a small spin to the ground.

  “Evie!” Silas yelled, rushing to her. He found the bullet impact wounds and immediately applied pressure to try to stop the bleeding.

  “Call an ambulance!!” he yelled to the nearby sunset watchers, praying desperately that their command of the English language was sufficient to understand him. “999!” he shouted again, hoping that he recalled the correct number for French emergency services.

  Blood covered his hands as he pressed down on her lower torso.

  “Why?” she asked, trying to understand what was going on after the shock of the impacts. She never noticed the motorcycle at all, just felt the impacts and force of the bullets.

  “Just breathe, Evie,” he said, trying to sound calm, but inside he couldn’t process anything.

  “Help!!” he called out again, hoping for anyone to offer needed assistance.

  Two men ran up. “I have called an ambulance,” the first man said in English. “Please hold on.”

  The other man had retrieved a first aid kit and offered some bandages to Silas. Silas removed his hands for only a second to grab the clean gauze and then continued to press on the wounds.

  The French men were now talking to Evie, trying to comfort her, as Silas went into shock at seeing the blood filling the bandages.

  Only two minutes after being called, the ambulance arrived and the trained paramedics approached the scene. One immediately inserted an IV into Evie and started fluids to compensate for the blood loss, comforting her in French and English that they were there to help. The second evaluated her vital signs and then pulled out more fresh bandages, and took over from Silas.

  At first, Silas refused to let up the pressure, but the two French bystanders grabbed him by the shoulders and assured him that the paramedics would save her.

  A French police car arrived seconds after the ambulance and took control of the crowd. Shortly after, two additional policemen started gathering details from the crowd about what happened.

  The scene turned into a blur to Silas, watching the curious crowd, the bright flashing lights of several emergency vehicles, and many voices all around him.

  Less than two minutes after arriving, the ambulance packed Evie up onto a stretcher and sped away to the closest hospital. Silas fought to go with, but the police kept him back, assuring him the EMTs needed room to work and they would take him to the hospital to be with her.

  Getting into the back of the police car, Silas stared into the setting sun before breaking down at the chaos that had just descended upon them.

  ***

  At the hospital Silas was taken to a waiting area away from any other patients, and he finally had some alone time to process. His hands were caked in blood and his once white shirt was now blood soaked from the middle down.

  “Evie!” Silas sobbed, still unsure of her status.

  “She is in surgery now,” a nurse came in and informed him. “She is alive and seemed strong enough during the start of the surgery.”

  He took in the information and nodded.

  The nurse produced some clothes and led him to a bathroom to clean up and change clothes. “The police will want your statement soon,” the nurse informed him.

  He nodded silently again and walked along with the nurse to change.

  The water in the sink turned red from Evie’s blood on his hands as he tried to clean up. He scrubbed for several minutes, attempting to clean away all traces of what had happened. He took off his shirt and pants, and scrubbed the blood off his chest, torso and legs. Evie had lost so much blood.

  Mostly clean on the outside, he put on the hospital clothes the nurse provided, and walked out to the nurse, and now two waiting police officers.

  He then recounted to the officers how the walk started, provided details of the time based on the sun position, and the call Evie had just received.

  “The call!” Silas said. “Evie’s phone!”

  One officer made a call over the radio that a phone was missing, and to bring it to the hospital.

  “I saw the driver,” he said. “He looked intent on running me over! I was almost hit by the motorcycle. That is when I noticed the gun, and ran after the motorcycle, trying to stop it. I saw the flash from the first shot. Then I saw Evie spin around from the second bullet.”

  He provided only a few more details, other than how he rushed to Evie and tried to stop the bleeding.

  “We are searching for the motorcycle. We will keep searching until we find it.”

  Silas nodded but wasn’t in any mood to respond.

  The nurse offered him some coffee to steady his nerves, and after the police finished with the interview, she led him to a waiting area. He sunk into a chair and held the coffee.

  “Is there anyone we can call?”

  “I should probably call some people,” he said, but made no movement. “Mr. Postice, Roger, and her dad.”

  A doctor approached. “It would be wise to give you an examination, too, just in case you suffered any wounds.”

  He resisted at first, but the doctor and nurse eventually persuaded him to move into an examination room.

  “Would you like anything to calm you down? A sedative?” the doctor asked, after taking several vital sign measurements.

  “No.”

  The doctor nodded to Silas, finishing up his examination. “It seems you haven’t suffered any physical effects. You have suffered a shock though, and should be kept under observation for a while.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Good. I will have the nurses check on you frequently.”

  Four hours after Silas and Evie arrived at the hospital, the nurse sat down next to him in the waiting room. “The doctors are confident in her survival now.”

  “She’s out of surgery?”

  “Not yet. The emergency team has stopped the bleeding and stabilized her, and now the surgeons are working to repair and clean the wounds.”

  “How bad is it?” Silas asked, feeling a small amount of relief sweep over him.

  “Abdominal wounds, like the ones Evie suffered, need a lot of care due to the high chance of bacterial infection. A special team is now working on her to make sure she doesn’t get an infection. One of the emergency nurses told me that this looks like a bad appendix case—and those are quite routine with this team.”

  “This is my fault,” Silas said. “I should have noticed the motorcycle sooner.”

  “It isn’t your fault. And you should try to get some sleep.”

  “I doubt I’d be able to sleep.”

  “You should try,” the nurse insisted, taking Silas by the arm and leading to an empty room. “Lie down here.”

  Silas obeyed, knowing that it would be futile.

  A minute later, Silas was dead to the world.

  “Silas,” a nurse gently shook him a few hours la
ter.

  “Yes?” A moment went by where Silas didn’t remember the past events, but then all of the horrible events flooded back.

  “She is out of surgery now.”

  “What time is it?” he asked.

  “A little after four AM.”

  “What time is that in America?” he asked, still confused.

  “Midnight and earlier, most likely,” the nurse said.

  “Thanks,” Silas said, getting out of the bed. “Can I see her?”

  “She is sleeping in a room. I can get a chair in there if you want.”

  “That would be nice. Thanks.”

  He left the room and followed the nurse to a different floor, and then to a dimly lit room, with several monitors displaying information, along with occasional beeps and other noises. A chair was slid in for Silas to sit in, and placed on the far wall, still allowing for the medical staff full access to Evie if needed.

  He sat in the chair for a while, watching and listening to the machines, then left to make some calls. He called Postice first, waking the old man, and delivering the bad news. Postice woke Alfred and Wentworth and made sure to assemble the best medical staff possible from all over Europe to assist if needed. Silas thanked him for his concern, and apologized for waking him at such a late hour.

  Silas also called Roger to give a brief update. Roger wasn’t particularly involved in the travels of the young couple, but Silas felt compelled to inform Roger and Maggie of the development.

  Calling Roger turned into a delaying tactic to keep from having to call Evie’s dad. But eventually the call with Roger came to an end, and Silas was forced to make the call to Evie’s dad.

  Evie’s dad was naturally upset and concerned, immediately making arrangements to fly to France and be with his daughter. Silas expected an angry father, determined to extract a pound of flesh from Silas for allowing harm to come to Evie, but Evie’s father only showed concern for both of them. A quick check of the flight schedules showed the next available flight to be in ten hours. With the flight time and time changes, Evie’s father would arrive the next morning.

  Silas felt tremendous relief after making the calls. Then he went back into the room, scanning each of the machines, looking for what could be a sign of any trouble, even though he had no idea what the readings were, and what would be considered good or bad. Satisfied the readings and beepings and other noises were in the normal range, Silas settled in the chair and watched and waited, eventually drifting into a light sleep.

  A nurse came in, and he woke with a start. He didn’t realize he had fallen asleep again. The nurse smiled quietly at him. She nodded to Silas, indicating that everything seemed to be satisfactory, and left.

  He looked outside through the window in the room. The room seemed to be about the same size as in any hospital, with the bed three feet from the interior window, allowing the medical staff to look in and check the machines quickly. The door opened up to the foot of Evie’s bed on her right side, a small curtain at the right side of her head, to block the interior window. The chair had been slid all of the way to the far side of the room, in line with the door, to allow Silas to stay mostly out of the way.

  The exterior window, on the left side of Evie’s bed, faced the seaside, slowly brightening with the reflection of the sunrise.

  “Do you need anything, Silas?” a nurse asked, on the next check of Evie, probably thirty minutes after the previous check.

  “No. I am fine.”

  “There is a small cafe on the first floor, if you get hungry. And you should drink something.” She left a small glass on the table by the window.

  Silas scanned the machines again, wanting to make sure for himself things were okay.

  Two more checks from a nurse followed, with more readings, and changing some of the mysterious fluids in different machines.

  Some time later a man in a medical coat with a stethoscope draped across his neck walked in.

  “Hello,” he said but didn’t wait for any acknowledgment. The doctor walked directly to Evie and opened her hospital gown neck a little. Unwrapping the stethoscope from his neck, the doctor put the ends into his ears and started listening to her chest.

  A little grunt escaped her lips with the touch of the cold stethoscope. “Evie?” the doctor asked somewhat loudly. “Are you with us Evie?”

  “Yes,” she managed to utter, waking up from the sleep and medication.

  “Good!” The doctor said, listening to several different places. “Deep breath please, Evie.”

  Evie attempted to take a deep breath. “Ouch!”

  “Good,” the doctor complimented her after listening. “You seem to have very good lungs.”

  “Thanks?” Evie smiled.

  The doctor lifted the blanket around Evie’s torso, and the gown, checking the site of the surgery.

  “All looks good so far,” the doctor announced. “Everything looks to be draining well.”

  “Yay,” Evie smiled, slurring the single word under the medication.

  “You should start to wake up fully in another hour,” the doctor informed Evie and Silas. “We’ll talk then.”

  “Is she going to be okay?” Silas asked.

  “All indications that are that she will make a full recovery. The drainage is clear, which is the best sign.”

  “Okay.”

  Silas slipped off to sleep for another short nap.

  “Silas?” Evie asked.

  “Yes!” Silas shot up. “Hi Evie. How are you feeling?”

  “I feel like I’ve been shot!”

  He couldn’t tell if that was a joke, or if she had no memory of the past twelve hours. “You were shot, Evie.”

  “I know,” she said, wincing from the pain as she managed a small laugh.

  “Your sense of humor wasn’t affected then. I’m so sorry, Evie.”

  “I know. I can tell. It’s not your fault.”

  “There is still no information on who or why. It seemed very much like they were after us. But I don’t know anybody here and can’t think of any reason for it.”

  “Don’t worry too much. I’m sure the police will figure it out.”

  “Postice also hired just about every private investigator in town to find out, too.”

  “That grumpy old man gets results doesn’t he?” she said. “Oops. Guess the medication enhances the honesty.”

  “Ouch! Don’t make me laugh!” she said.

  “That was all you.”

  The nurse looked in and noticed them talking. A moment later the doctor entered the room.

  “How are you doing, Evie?”

  “It hurts to laugh,” Evie said, “I probably need more of the good stuff.”

  “You are definitely getting your share. But we can’t have you feeling too good at the moment.”

  The doctor repeated the listening with the stethoscope and checked the drainage again, nodded to Silas with a smile and left.

  A little after ten AM, Silas sensed some commotion out in the hall and stood up to try to get a better look at the scene outside. A tiny young woman, probably early twenties, petite, with reddish brown hair, and fiery green eyes burst into the room.

  “You Fucking Son of Bitch!” she immediately shouted loudly at him, even before the door of Evie’s room managed to swing shut, causing everyone around to look toward the outburst.

  Silas could see her mouth moving, and her arms flailing in anger, and he sensed she was cursing him loudly with every possible combination of insult, probably in several languages. But he didn’t hear anything after her initial outburst.

  Instead, he suddenly picked up the loud static in his mind again. Time slowed to a crawl. The static turned into a loud tone—similar to the Emergency Broadcast System tone—and it took over every sense.

  The tone grew in intensity in his mi
nd, making him unable to focus on anything else. Slowly the tone changed into the static again, and time slowed further. Only the static and the now slow motions of the young woman seemed to matter.

  The static cleared, now tuned to the correct radio station, and a single word filled his mind. A word so clear and loud that try as he might, Silas could not prevent it or ignore it. A stranger’s voice speaking clearly to him again.

  His head turned, looking first at Evie and then at this new woman standing in front of him and finally back to Evie. As this voice formed a single word clearly in his mind, it also took control over his mouth. Silas spoke the word aloud in unison with the radio message in his head.

  One word—he heard someone else speak it in his head, and he heard it uncontrollably utter from his own mouth at the same time:

  “MOM?”

  The End.

  Appendix A:

  Time Textbook

  Preface to Time Textbook

  Fundamental Theory of Change – A text into time

  There will be a lot of bold statements in this text, many without any given proofs, just due to the common sense nature of the claim, or easy realization by the reader after some thought.

  Time does not exist. Everything that has been associated with ‘time’ is actually a change, and time was invented to account for this idea of change.

  Change is universally constant and occurs only in one direction, and the accepted standards of time track this change precisely.

  If time tracks this universal change perfectly, then is there a difference between time and change?

  The answer to that question is yes, as will be discussed in the following text.

  This text is not meant to discredit the idea of measuring time, but to explain why time as we know it is a different concept.

  Chapter 1: Observation

  Theory: Nothing exists without an observer.

  Proof: How many people are on the planet right now? 7 Billion? 8 Billion?

  How do you know?

  The only answer is: someone [with credibility of some sort] told us.

  Suppose you had perfect recall of your memory. How many people have you observed over the course of your life? If you wrote down every person you ever interacted with, how many could you list? Is it 7 billion? Probably not.