Sandcastle for Pegasus

by Bob Avey

  “I want to believe that,” Martin said, “but I know what happens in 2020. And it isn’t good.”

  The young Doctor Stewart looked away for a moment, his gaze taking in park’s scenery, his expression intense as if he were dealing with strong internal turmoil. “What exactly happens, Martin? What about me and my future have you so upset?”

  Martin turned and studied the GTO. Standing in the park, admiring the classic lines of the vintage automobile, it was difficult even for him to wrap his mind around such a dismal future.

  “Like I said before, you eventually hook up with the Phoenix Foundation, a politically motivated group that provides information and support to a number of politicians, who want to create legislation that would make it mandatory for parents of unborn children diagnosed with mental disorders that would render them less than perfect to be aborted, regardless of the wishes of the parents.”

  “And how do you and your son, Luke, fit into all of this?”

  “There will be a resistance,” Martin said, “politicians who oppose such measures. Believe it or not, they will be in the minority, and they and their families will be extremely harassed, even with threats of death.”

  Martin paused for a moment. With all the emotion tearing through him, he’d let some of his guard down, and the younger Martin was struggling to cope with such an unbelievable and horrifying concept.

  “The resistance will put together some commercials to air on television hoping to get some exposure so the truth might be delivered to the American people. They hope that armed with the truth the American people will not stand for such a barbaric approach and will rise up and put a stop to it.”

  Doctor Stewart shook his head. “But wouldn’t there already be news coverage of something so controversial?”

  “Yes, there will be lots of coverage, Doctor Stewart, except it will be one-sided. You see, in my time, the media has become so political in their outlook they only cover whatever side they believe in.”

  “And what about you and your son, Luke?”

  “The resistance will adopt Luke as their spokesperson. He will then become the subject of extreme death threats.”

  Doctor Stewart studied Martin’s face. “And since I’m the focus of your interest in this matter, I assume you think I am the one who will carry out these threats? You are more delusional than I thought, Martin. I’ve never harmed anyone in my life.”

  “I believe that of you now,” Martin said, “but things will change. And, no, you will not be the one making the threats, and you wouldn’t be the one who would carry them out in the normal sense of things.”

  “Then what on earth are you going on about, my old friend?”

  Martin paused. Had Doctor Stewart just referred to him as a friend? Yes, he was sure he had. “I’m talking about time travel, Doctor Stewart. In the future, you will somehow acquire the knowledge to achieve this. And I admit I am speculating, but you will convince yourself that going back and preventing the birth of someone would not be the same as murder. That’s how you will do it, Doctor Stewart. I know because I have met you in different times, and I have seen the results of your efforts.”

  A curious expression crawled across the face of Doctor Stewart. Martin realized the look as meaningful, but he could not read the meaning.

  “You paint a dismal and disturbing picture of my future, Martin. My life’s work is designed around helping troubled people, not harming them.” He paused. “The average person has no idea of what people like me go through, as a psychologist, I mean. What we see and hear daily would damage the psyche of those with less fortitude. Admittedly, it is extremely difficult to handle. However, as far as I know, I do rather well with it.”

  “I can only imagine,” Martin said. But that wasn’t completely true. He had some experience through raising Luke. However, he thought he might actually be getting through to Doctor Stewart, and it seemed best right now to be understanding, which might encourage him to continue talking about it.

  “And no doubt you have helped many people with their struggles,” Martin continued, but then reconsidered. Being even slightly dishonest didn’t agree with him. “I hesitate to bring this up,” he said, “but I understand more than most through my dealings with my son, Luke, and his friends. Perhaps I’ve gotten to know quite a few mentally challenged people on a more personal level, but in my experience, they are actually more honest and open about things than most people, including me.”

  “Yes,” Doctor Stewart said, “that can often be the case, but not always.”

  Martin hesitated before continuing along the line of reasoning he was considering. It was a point that could prove productive in getting through to Doctor Stewart, but no doubt it would be a hotspot for him as well.

  “Please forgive me if I’m overstepping my bounds, Doctor Stewart, but I would encourage you to do some investigation into the background of the man who attacked your parents.” He paused and held up both hands as if to say, ‘just chill out and give me a minute to explain.’ “You’re probably thinking it’s none of my business, but for all the reasons we’ve been tiptoeing around, it actually is, at least from my perspective. If you will do as I ask, I am nearly certain you will find a lot more going on with that man than just an autistic condition.”

  Doctor Stewart offered a guarded smile, but his expression had changed, morphing into something that reflected the darkness that had already spread through his soul.

  “I might just do that,” he said. “And if it’s okay with you, I suggest we lighten the mood a bit. I’ve been admiring your car. It might come as a surprise to you, but I, too, am a vintage car enthusiast. I keep a 1968 Mustang garaged most of the time, but occasionally I take it out for a spin.” Stewart gestured toward the GTO. “Mind if I open the door and take a look?”

  Martin hesitated. Doctor Stewart’s sudden change in mood had caught him off guard. “Sure,” he said, opening the door himself and stepping aside.

  Doctor Stewart slid into the passenger seat, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Man, this is nice. Love the black leather. Someone did a bang-up job on the restoration from what I can tell.”

  “Thanks,” Martin said, “my grandfather had it done. I still can’t believe it myself. Every time I drive it, I fall in love again.”

  Jackson Stewart climbed out of the car and shut the door. When he turned back, he said, “I know exactly what you mean. But there’s something else I’d like to talk to you about, the time travel. Could I ask you a few questions about that?”

  “I guess so,” Martin said, “but honestly I don’t know much about it.”

  “My father was really into it,” Stewart continued, “kept extensive notes on the subject, which I inherited. He always wanted me to follow in his footsteps, being an electrical engineer that is. Psychology was my mom’s idea. Anyway, I think my father actually believed traveling through time was possible. I found the concept intriguing, but I don’t think I ever really believed it. And then you come along and act as if it’s second nature. You’re either the biggest nutcase I’ve ever run across, which is saying a lot for a shrink, or you’re for real. I can’t decide which, so help me out with it.”

  Martin shuddered as a now familiar chill ran up his spine. Someone was near, and it wasn’t just your run-of-the-mill stalker. Someone else had jumped through to this time.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “How you do it for starters. How were you able to create an electromagnetic envelope stable and strong enough to do the job?”

  Martin truly did not know how he should answer that. Not only in the sense that he didn’t know much about the how and why, but also the gut feeling that had come along with the earlier warning, which was telling him he’d
said over enough already.

  “I have a feeling you’re going to be disappointed, Doctor Stewart.”

  “Please, call me Jackson.”

  Martin nodded. He was beginning to like Jackson Stewart, but he also mistrusted the man. He’d never experienced a relationship with such duality.

  “All right, Jackson, the truth of the matter is that I don’t have a clue to the science or mechanics of time travel. I’m not a scientist or an engineer. I’m an accountant in the petroleum industry. Until now, my life has been textbook boring.”

  “So, you’re telling me you don’t know how you do it? That just doesn’t add up, Martin, unless someone else is behind it. Is that it, is there someone behind you, perhaps even a team of scientists?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” Martin said. He was thinking of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. “And hopefully we’ll talk more about this some other time, but right now I need to tell you something extremely important. I don’t know why but I have developed a sixth sense, if you will, that tells me when another traveler is near. I’ve been experiencing the sensation quite strongly for the last few minutes. We need to get out of here, Jackson, and we need to do it now. If we don’t, something bad is going to happen.”

  To Martin’s surprise, Jackson Stewart seemed in complete understanding and agreement. He immediately started walking toward his car. “Thank you, my friend. Until next time then,”

  With that, Jackson Stewart got into his car and drove slowly out of the park.

  Woodward Park was beautiful despite the dormant grass and naked trees that would blossom into something spectacular in the spring. However, both Martin Taylor and his younger counterpart were in complete agreement that it was time to get in the car and drive away from the normally tranquil setting.

  The notion to leave was well founded, but the timing left something to be desired. Martin never got the chance. He had only gotten the GTO started when an old Ford station wagon pulled up behind, so close that any backward movement on Martin’s part would result in metal crashing against metal. Going forward was not an option, unless he wanted to tear the bottom of the car out by trying to roll over the small concrete barrier then lope across the grass.

  Before he could do either, if he’d been so inclined, someone stepped out of the station wagon and started toward the GTO. Martin could see the man in the rearview mirror and then again in the side mirror. There was no mistaking who it was. It was the 2020 version of Doctor Jackson Stewart.

  The older, not so likeable Doctor Stewart sauntered up to the driver’s side window and leaned against the vintage car with both hands resting on the roofline. He lowered his head, until he was peering through the window into Martin’s eyes, a crooked smile turning the corners of his mouth.

  “Hello, Martin, my old friend,” he said. “Tag, you’re it. The game is over.”

  A familiar, dark current of fear started at the base of Martin’s spine and spread, increasing in intensity as it crawled upward. Martin had been trapped before like this, at school when the group of kids cornered him before beating the daylights out of him. “What do you mean, old friend? You must have me confused with someone else. I don’t think we’ve met.”

  It was true in a sense. While the older Martin had met the older Doctor Stewart, and the younger Martin had interacted with the younger Jackson Stewart, the older Stewart had never met the younger Martin.

  “Now, would you please move your car so I can leave?”

  “Nice try, Martin, but I’d know you anywhere. We have a history, going back all the way to what, 1991?”

  Stewart waited a moment, the grin on his face spreading wider, letting his words sink in. “Don’t look so shocked, my friend. I know quite a bit about you now. That’s the thing about messing with time. You never really know the full extent of what you’ve let loose until it’s too late. When you visited me in Williamsburg, you altered a few things. Let’s not forget who I am. When you visited me in 1991, you became a part of Jackson Stewart’s past, which would be stored in his memory—my memory that is. I have an excellent memory, one some might even call photographic. I remember it like it was yesterday. Then again, I guess it sort of was, wasn’t it? And as soon as you showed up in 1999 and made the phone call—to me actually—you created another memory.

  “Funny how things fall together, isn’t it? I was just minding my own business when suddenly it occurred to me that my old friend, Martin would be at the park today. I will say this to your credit. You’re not making this easy for me. I mean, what a cute kid you were in 1991, so intelligent, and industrious, and now look at you. A handsome teenager. I truly feel an affection toward you, sort of like a little brother. Like brothers, we have a few serious issues thwarting our relationship. But I’m confident we can work through this.”

  Doctor Stewart paused, a far-off look gathering in his eyes as if he’d suddenly fallen into a daydream so intense it momentarily interrupted his train of thought. “Then again,” he said, almost as if speaking to himself, “there was that time in 2014 when I kept getting an impression of your presence, though I could not bring myself to accept it fully, sort of like a nagging dream you can’t quite put your finger on but can’t manage to shake either. A rather ghostly episode, gives me a chill every time I think about it.”

  The older Stewart returned his attention to Martin. “I was having lunch with my brother, and I kept getting a sensation of being watched, then again later at the office, the same kind of thing. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you, Martin?”

  Martin shook his head. There had been something different about the 2014 visit where people had looked right at him without seeming to see him. The whole world had been wavy and out of sorts in that time and place, but Martin wasn’t about to tell Doctor Stewart about that. He’d inadvertently, through his visits with the younger Jackson Stewart, told him way too much already.

  “It was probably like you mentioned earlier,” Martin said, “some kind of weird dream.”

  Doctor Stewart smiled. “Well, now that we have that cleared up, let’s get down to business. Like I said, I like you, Martin, but you’re becoming quite a nuisance, a monkey wrench in the gearbox of my efforts, so to speak. Question is, what am I going to do about that?”

  Martin felt a bead of sweat run down his back as he wondered what he was going to do, how he was going to get out of this. While he could concentrate on another time and place and travel there, he couldn’t do that now because the younger Martin would still be here, left to face Doctor Stewart on his own. There was no telling what might come from it, but Martin suspected it wouldn’t be good.

  “I’m sorry if I’ve caused you problems, Doctor Stewart, but my efforts are and were well intentioned. The thing about it is, I just can’t let go of my belief that deep down you’re a decent person. That’s why I keep trying to reason with you, to get you to see that what you’re doing is wrong.”

  “And what, exactly, am I doing, Martin, that is so wrong in your expert opinion on life?”

  Martin knew the words were forming in his mind, and he also knew he probably shouldn’t speak them. But despite his own warning, he blurted them out anyway.

  “Come on, I know about Angela Stewart and Candy Barnes. I’ve done some traveling through time myself. I also know about your affiliation with the Phoenix Foundation. Quite frankly, Doctor Stewart, I can’t understand how you could have sunk so low as to be associated with such a despicable operation.”

  Martin paused, wondering what he thought he was doing, because he was surely sealing his fate by agitating Stewart, though he didn’t stop there, but continued. “Like you said, Doctor Stewart, we’re kind of like old friends. I’ve met with you during several times in your life, and I’m struggling to un
derstand how that person I talked with, that Jackson Stewart, who I feel I know and like, could have evolved into the person now standing beside my car.”

  Great, Martin, don’t just stick the knife in but twist it as well.

  Contrary to what Martin had expected, Doctor Stewart didn’t become angry, but his expression actually seemed to soften. “Well,” he said, “thank you for pointing that out. I’m not an unreasonable man. So, let’s slow down a moment and concentrate on what we have in common, and that would be traveling, wouldn’t it? Along those lines, something about you has been a source of intrigue to me for many years. Without considering the present company, I only know one other traveler. Thankfully, he doesn’t know me. He knows about me, but not how and where to catch me, so to speak. He calls himself John Rainbow. You wouldn’t happen to know him, would you?”

  The thought of lying didn’t set well with Martin, even under such circumstances, but if ever there was a time for it, it was now. He shook his head. “I can’t say that I do. Is he a friend of yours?”

  “Not exactly, but he and I travel in pretty much the same way, which is precisely the point I’m trying to make. I’ve met you on the road, so to speak, two times now. Once when you were, what, eight or nine years old? And now, a nice looking if not a tad bit too slightly built young man of sixteen. I, too, was a younger version of myself, only the ‘me’ then was not exactly the ‘me’ now, if you catch my meaning? That doesn’t appear to be the case with you, Martin. Your physical age was different each time but not your mental. You were still you, so to speak.

  “To cut to the chase, to the best of my knowledge, there are only three of us in the world, Martin. That puts us in an exclusive club, wouldn’t you say? The difference seems to be that Mr. Rainbow and I are bound by certain limitations. It leaves me wondering, are your limitations greater than mine, or are they less?”

  “I don’t know,” Martin said. “I’m not even sure if I know what you mean by that?”