by Keith Hughes
The thug slowed ten feet away and approached cautiously, wearing a victorious grin. His hand slipped inside his jacket, presumably reaching for his gun, then Ness heard the sound of more running coming from behind. Ness watched as his earlier self plowed into Thing One and sent him into the floor. The sound of his head on the concrete still sounded awful.
Realizing his cue, he grabbed the extinguisher from its bracket, and as soon as his copy rolled off the bruiser’s back, he smacked Thing One in the head as he had seen himself do earlier. The rest of the scene played out as he had experienced, but seeing it from a different perspective made it strange. He doubted he would ever get entirely used to seeing what amounted to another person with his face. His double’s face had lines he had apparently been ignoring during his morning shave.
Once his double had departed, Ness felt along Thing One’s waistband until he found his weapon. Slipping it in the same position at his back, he jogged back to where he had dropped his bag of clothes. It was tempting to change into the clothing here, but Ness didn’t want to be caught by another of the Things with his pants around his ankles. Instead, he continued down the hallway.
It must lead somewhere.
Ness kept running. He had an eerie suspicion he had stumbled into a Twilight Zone episode with a never-ending passageway. Nonetheless, he kept running. At that point, it was all he could do.
CHAPTER NINE: Escape
Tuesday, September 09, 2008 7:43 p.m.
The silent protests of Ness’s legs grew more strident the farther he jogged. His lungs burned as if filled with volcanic fumes, and sweat covered his face. There’s nothing like running for your life to point out how out of shape you are.
He tried to listen for Thing One renewing his pursuit, but there were no signs the man had regained consciousness. Of course, that was assuming Ness would be able to hear anything over his own wheezing.
Finally, his patience paid off when he came to a set of double doors marked Loading Dock. Cautiously opening one, he saw yawning loading bays devoid of trucks making deliveries. Once he passed through the doors, he would have no place to hide. The docking area was not the public place full of people that he’d imagined before coming to the mall.
Thing One isn’t going to stay unconscious forever.
That could not be helped—he would have to take his chances crossing the loading bay. He pulled his head back inside and rummaged for the hoodie. The gray fabric provided at least minimal camouflage against the metal walls of the docks.
A faint groan reverberated from down the hall, and Ness knew his time in the mall had come to an end. He pushed through the door. Thankfully, the white van wasn’t waiting for him.
In the movies, there’s always some sort of activity for the hero to lose himself in, Ness grumbled. His sardonic side responded, If this were a movie, you’d have a beautiful woman running at your side.
Ness frowned and jogged to the end of the dock. Peering around the corner, he didn’t see any sign of the van. Another quick jog had him walking along a row of parked cars. As evening transitioned to night, yellow-tinted lights added an amber glow to the scene. Ness slowed, holding his bag and trying to look like a normal shopper heading for his car.
An engine rumbled behind him, and he looked over his shoulder. His heart revved into high gear as a white van turned in to the row. He dived between a pair of parked vehicles and scrambled to hide himself in the space between them. The van drove past, and Ness peeked out at a boy regarding him curiously from the passenger seat. It was not Glenn’s van.
Chuckling at himself, Ness stood slowly, checking all around to make sure Glenn and his goons were not in the area. He resumed walking away from the mall. He made it to the end of the lot without further injury to either his person or his dignity.
He sat on a bench inside a Plexiglas-enclosed bus stop near the sidewalk. Rolling his shoulders in an attempt to unwind, he waited until the bus pulled to a stop in front of him, interrupting his relaxation routine. He paid his fare and took a seat by the window. Glancing at the mall, he saw Glenn’s van stop at the loading dock. The large side door opened, and Thing Two jumped out. The van pulled away, and the thug ran for the door Ness had used minutes before.
The bus pulled away from the curb, and Ness sat back with a grin. He had finally lost his pursuers, and he flushed with a sense of victory. Although still on the run, he had Dr. Bertrand’s time machine and his freedom. Ness had won this round, but the fight still had not been won. The separation from his pursuers would last for a limited time, and Ness had to make the most of it.
* * *
Glenn’s world had resolved into two main focuses: the search for Relevont and his blinding headache. Unfortunately, his lack of success in the former seemed to feed the latter. Pounding pain behind his eyes made his vision double. When the van returned to the loading dock, two members of his team were waiting. Williams was helping Mays stand. He looked dazed, as if he had sustained another blow to the head. Shaking his head in exasperation only magnified Glenn’s pain. He pulled an aspirin bottle from his pocket and dry-swallowed two of the chalky pills.
In an incident eerily similar to what Mays had suffered, Glenn had taken a blow to the head last week. He could intimately understand the expression of confused pain on his underling’s face, as even now the effects of that experience made themselves known at inopportune times. The way he had sustained the injury remained an oddity, as he had caught only a fleeting glimpse of whoever had laid him out. The mess he had woken to had taken some careful planning to resolve.
Glenn refocused his attention when the van came to a stop and his men climbed in through the side door. Williams slid it shut, and Harrison drove on again. Mays sat holding his head in his hands. The close-shaved hair upon his scalp did nothing to hide the two large welts on the back of his head.
“Well?” Glenn raised an eyebrow.
Mays slowly lifted his head, revealing another angry, red bulge on his forehead. He blinked rapidly as if he were having trouble focusing.
“I had him.” Mays sounded defensive. “I chased him along this hallway, but he stopped like he was waiting for me. Before I could get to him, someone hit me from behind.”
“So that’s from the floor?” Glenn looked at his forehead with skepticism.
Mays lifted a hand and probed the lump there, a look of horrified amazement on his face.
“If I had to guess, Mays hit his head on the floor when he fell,” Williams supplied, “and afterward, Relevont used a fire extinguisher on him when he was still down. He was barely conscious when I found him.”
He’s barely conscious now. Glenn faced forward again. At any rate, Ness Relevont had escaped. They would have to go back to the lab and try to find a way to acquire his trail again.
Maybe the doctor’s house will provide some clues. A renewed throbbing through his cranium convinced Glenn to call it a day. Likely, Mays would feel better after a night’s sleep as well. Undoubtedly, Relevont had successfully escaped some time ago, so continuing to circle the mall would be a waste of time. He gave Harrison new directions, closing his eyes and nestling his head against the headrest. Nothing about this had been easy. Glenn already rued the day he’d heard the name Nestor Relevont. Now he had to make sure this troublesome photographer came to the same conclusion about him.
CHAPTER TEN: Respite
Tuesday, September 09, 2008 8:44 p.m.
The miles that Ness traversed on public transportation seemed to take place outside of time, or perhaps they could have taken place in another reality. For a while, he let his brain disengage as he idly watched the businesses and homes the bus passed by. It frequently paused to allow passengers on or off, but Ness did not stir from his seat until the bus stopped for what might have been the fiftieth time.
Ness couldn’t help but chuckle at his destination, and in good spirits, he joined the queue of departing riders. It amused him that he had ridden across the city to end
up at yet another mall. Stiff after over an hour on barely comfortable seats, his legs appreciated moving again. Miles to the southwest of its shopping kin, the mall would provide another temporary refuge.
Tired and hungry, Ness also wanted to get into his new clothes. Taking care of those two needs would be easy at the mall. As he meandered across the parking lot, Ness took in the looming building. Asphalt extended from the round building in all directions. A sign on the door indicated the shopping center closed in an hour, which explained the sparse collection of cars in the lot.
The air conditioning inside washed over him like a comforting balm, providing an energizing lift. He found the men’s room and picked the large handicapped stall. Removing Thing One’s gun from his waistband, he set it on top of the toilet paper dispenser. The weapon gleamed with dark menace in the fluorescent lights, and Ness debated if he should keep it. His primary purpose for taking the firearm had been to ensure he didn’t end up with a bullet in the back.
It took only a couple minutes to switch into his new clothing. Until he pulled the T-shirt from the bag, Ness had not noticed large, white letters saying, “Take off, eh?” emblazoned down the front. He put it on anyway, although the shirt was slightly large, with a bit of extra room around the shoulders and gut. The jeans fit him well enough, and he transferred the PDA and envelope of money to open pockets. Given the likely memorable nature of the shirt, he donned the hoodie despite the warm temperatures. He slid the sleeves up his arms to keep some of the heat at bay.
He bundled his old clothing into the bag before focusing again on the gun. Eventually, he decided the gun would get him in more trouble than it would save him from. He pulled the clip out and stuffed it in the bag. He opened the door to the stall slowly, making sure the bathroom was empty before dropping the gun in the trash can. It fell to the bottom with a thunk muffled by shifting crumples of paper towels.
Ness returned to the mall proper and stuffed the bag in a trash receptacle on his way to the food court. A culinary cacophony of aromas made his stomach growl loudly in response. The array of food vendors gave him a choice of anything between creole and pizza. He finally settled on an Asian fusion place, where he ordered a bowl of drunken noodles with chicken and an egg roll. He chased it with a large Sprite, and the food vanished before he knew it. His stomach burbled contentedly as he finished the last bite of the egg roll.
An unexpected yawn informed Ness of his next priority. Even though a nearby clock informed him the time was only just approaching nine o’clock at night, he was exhausted. He needed to find a place to stay for the night. Leaving the mall, he stood outside the doors and looked around. As he had recalled, there were several mom-and-pop motels scattered across the street. They were not as seedy as some of the establishments charging by the hour a little closer to the city limits, but none of them would appear in any AAA directory. At any rate, Ness needed someplace to crash undisturbed for a few hours, and they held the twin benefits of being close and cheap.
Eyeing his choices, he crossed the parking lot and picked the motel in the best condition. To save on signage costs, the word Motel had been built into its roof with dingy, off-white shingles. The building had been painted recently, and several cars were parked in front of various rooms. A vacancy sign flashed from the lobby window, and in his zombie-like state, he shambled toward it without much thought.
This place catered to people who didn’t want to answer too many questions. The woman who checked him in didn’t blink when he paid in cash. This establishment apparently specialized in those who lived off the grid, even if only for an hour or two. He left the office, clutching an old-fashioned metal key attached to a triangular plastic fob.
As Ness made his way to the room, memories of the hotel, specifically the room at the far end of the hall, came back to him. Relief flooded over him when he confirmed he had not been given that room, where he’d worked the scene of a double homicide in 1998. He sincerely doubted they had managed to get the smell out, and even the memory of it in his nostrils persisted.
But his room smelled only of age, mildew, and a faint trace of stale cigarette smoke. Ness decided it would suit his purposes. The faded wallpaper matched the bedspread. Everything approached what he would call clean, but he made a point of not inspecting the shower too closely. With little chance of finding anything better, he locked the door behind him to settle in for the night. After double-checking to make sure the dead bolt had been latched, he closed the curtains tightly.
Emptying his pockets on the dresser, Ness paused with the time machine in his hand. After spending a couple minutes staring, lost in thought, Ness sighed. This little device had upended his world, but he feared it had done worse to his friend.
Sitting on the bed, Ness watched for a second time the videos Dr. Bertrand had left for him. Again, the weakness in his mentor’s voice struck Ness. A phrase spoken at the end stood out, though, and gave him at least an idea of his next move.
“I have left another recording to help you. When you are safe, return where we began and pay me a visit,” the tinny voice of Dr. Bertrand instructed.
With that parting comment, his memory twigged him about the money, and he removed the bills from the envelope for a closer examination. The style was definitely vintage to his younger days, and it gave Ness a pang of nostalgia. The top bill had a series date of 1987, and Ness’s grin grew as he leafed through the rest to see they all shared the same date.
“That takes care of the when. We met during the winter semester that year.”
The timing also told Ness where he needed to go, but getting there involved a much larger trip than jumping a few hours. To journey there safely, he would need to do some planning. He could hear his friend’s voice in his mind, from one of their many discussions in his college days about the use of time travel.
“The most important safeguard the time traveler has is planning,” Dr. Bertrand had pontificated on many occasions. “Failure to plan always ends in disaster.”
Another mammoth yawn interrupted his reflections, and Ness set the PDA next to his wallet. After slipping out of his jeans, he snuggled under the bed’s covers. Planning would have to wait until the morning; his exhaustion made him much too tired for cognition. Closing his eyes as his head hit the pillow, Ness slid instantly into sleep. He dreamed of a better day, one when he wasn’t alone and under constant pursuit.
CHAPTER ELEVEN: A Giant Leap Backward
Wednesday, September 10, 2008 11:59 a.m.
The bus’s spongy suspension made even a simple act like yawning difficult, as each bump in the road translated into an exaggerated bounce. The constant up-and-down became reminiscent of being on the water during a bit of weather. The descent from the top of one such movement had Ness’s teeth clacking together painfully. He rubbed his jaw with a grimace. Another yawn tried to erupt, but Ness refused to open his mouth.
Dr. Bertrand’s message had been clear. Something had been left for him around when they’d first met. But getting there would not be as simple as going to a specific location—he had to go to a specific time as well. It wasn’t a short hop of a few hours or even a few days, either. Ness needed to make a major leap of more than twenty years and two hundred miles.
His biggest concern involved finding a location where he could jump back safely. He needed someplace which had been unchanged for decades, where walls and doors had not been remodeled into different positions over the years. Many of the buildings in the suburbs he knew well were either new or had been reconstructed at various points.
Ness had considered those requirements as he ate a breakfast sandwich he’d purchased at a gas station. He had rejected various options in the suburbs and instead focused on the city proper as possible launching points. Detroit had numerous gems that had been around for far longer than he had been alive. The question remained: which one could he gain access to? A memory sparked, and Ness smiled. He had already visited the perfect place, and he could get there by
bus.
A couple years before, the Detroit Public Library had hosted a photography exhibition. For a time, Ness had toyed with the idea of submitting one of his landscapes. In the end, he decided not to, but he had made a point to see the exhibit when it opened. He’d seen some marvelous photographs there, but the building itself had captured his eye.
The bus rumbled to a halt at his stop. He joined one or two others in filing out the door and onto the sidewalk. He regarded the exterior of the venerable old building. Over one hundred and fifty years old, the white marble lining the exterior still looked fresh and cool. Black lettering in a classic typeface above the matching doors identified the building, hinting at its age without appearing outdated. Brass door handles gleamed in the morning sun, polished by countless hands over the many years, inviting passersby to enter and partake of the library’s mysteries.
Ness passed through those portals, where identical life-sized sculptures of swans set in alcoves on either side greeted him. They were lit from behind, making the white stone glow. The inner walls were lined in the same pale marble as outside, giving an impression of staid permanence.
Walking from room to room, he found a surprising number of people in almost every room. The decor changed from section to section. One addition at the back exhibited classic 1960s architecture, whereas others were all dark wooden beams and plaster walls. Artwork had been placed everywhere, almost making it a museum in its own right. As it had during his previous visit, Diego Rivera’s vast mural spanning several walls transfixed him for long minutes.
When he finally finished his tour of the public areas, he still had not found a safe launching point. More to the point, he could not identify any place he could unexpectedly pop into existence many years in the past without causing a disturbance. Most of the furniture looked somewhat contemporary, and the shelves were up to date as well. There were scuffs on the floor indicating they may have been in different configurations in the past. And pretty much every area he visited had at least a couple of people in it.