by Bob Avey
“You’re going away again, aren’t you?”
John looked into her eyes, wishing he could soften the bluntness of her statement. He nodded. It was what he was trying to say. “These few days have been the happiest of my life. I wish there was another way.”
“Maybe there is. We’ll figure it out. If nothing else, just stay one more night.”
Another wave came in with more force than before, spraying them both with salty water.
“Nothing would make me happier, but we don’t have that much time. I saw it coming. I just didn’t want to let myself believe it. As much as I wish it wasn’t so, my being here is destroying your world, and my absence from mine is doing the same.”
“I don’t understand.”
John nodded. He had thought about the matter countless times, but it still made no sense to him. How could Sylvia be ripped from existence upon the correction of the rift—the birth of Angela—when she had existed decades before? It didn’t matter, though, she was gone from his world, and nothing could bring her back.
“Of all the people involved in this quagmire, I should understand enough to explain it to you, but the truth is I can’t. I still have trouble accepting that it’s real—that you and I are standing here on the beach, and all of those other worlds are out there.”
“Do you mean like Venus and Mars?”
“It’s more like a reflection in a mirror,” John said. “We’ve all seen our reflections, and we accept it as such. However, what would you think if your reflection didn’t move in exactly the same way as you, or if it simply walked away?”
“I guess that would be a little unnerving.”
“And what if your reflection stepped through the mirror to be on your side of the reflection? That’s what I have done, Sylvia. I broke the rules and stepped through the mirror into your world. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Sylvia started to cry. “I remember being in your world, John. I hid those memories from you because I thought I was crazy, and that it was all in my head. It isn’t, is it?”
John shook his head. “To make matters worse, there are people out there who understand all of this, or at least they think they do, and one of them—at least one that we know of—is to blame for a lot of the recent problems. It’s another reason I have to go back. He must be stopped before—well, I’m not sure, but it isn’t good.”
John let go of Sylvia and started walking down the beach.
He heard her calling after him, and it was all he could do to not turn around and run back to her. But then, she caught him from behind and spun him around.
She wrapped her arms around him and pulled herself close, pressing her wet clothes against his. “I love you.”
At that moment, tears welled up in John’s eyes and streamed down his face. “And I love you, but it just isn’t meant to be.” He pulled away. “Please forgive me.”
She called after him and followed him for a while, but soon her soft voice faded into the sounds of the ocean. John kept walking. He would soon be gone from Sylvia’s world.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
MARTIN
On-board USS Eldridge
Thursday, August 12, 1943
Martin opened his eyes to what he thought at first to be darkness, though he soon realized it was metallic flooring. He briefly wondered why it was a solid surface instead of sand before dismissing the trivial concern. It wasn’t unusual for him to start out in one place and end up in another, not anymore.
Doctor Stewart had fired at Martin point blank. That’s what had happened. Stewart had tried once again to kill him, and the man had acted with no more concern than if he’d been forced to swat a fly. That’s all he was to Stewart, a minor irritation.
Immediately, Martin sat upright and checked himself for damage inflicted by the shots Stewart had fired but found no indication that he’d been hit by the slugs.
He still wasn’t sure why he’d ended up in Florida, much less wherever he was now, which appeared to be an old, noisy ship. He knew how it had happened. Stewart had shoved him into the time machine. As to the why, though, he suspected he was at the mercy of Stewart’s damaged programming.
Barely discernible with the loud roar filling the room, Martin was sure he heard someone talking, more like yelling to overcome the noise. Seconds later, a pair of feet appeared in front of him.
“Where the hell did you come from, sailor?”
Martin looked up and saw a grease-smeared, young man. “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you. Where am I, anyway?”
The dirty, young man shook his head. “Where in hell do you think you are?”
Martin got to his feet then glanced around. “I don’t know, from the looks of things, inside an old ship of some kind.”
“Mister, you’re in the engine room of a practically new Cannon class destroyer escort. She runs better than anything I’ve ever been on. On the contrary, you’re the one that looks too old to be a sailor. And you ain’t no officer, else I’d remember your face. I make it a point to do that. It’s just good thinking. You’re dressed funny, too. Maybe you ought to start explaining yourself. The Germans got spies out, you know. Maybe you’re one of them.”
The sailor’s words caused Martin to remember some details he’d run across while researching the matter of time travel. The way the guy was dressed, the way he talked, going on about destroyer escorts and German spies. Considering how Martin had ended up here, it all followed a twisted logic. “This is going to sound crazy,” Martin said, “but could you tell me what year it is?”
“For crying out loud, man, you’re in worse shape than I thought. It’s 1943.”
A sickening realization ran through Martin’s mind. “August 12, 1943?”
“That’s right. Now you’re coming around. Maybe there’s hope for you after all.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Martin said. August 12, 1943 was his Grandpa Frank’s birthday, but it was also a date, or one of the alleged dates, important to Project Rainbow. “But I have one more question, which will probably throw your opinion of me back toward the looney bin. Could you tell me what ship this is?”
“Aw man, I get to thinking maybe you’re all right, and now here we go again. Look, maybe you ought to tell me who you are, and then we might get back to the question-and-answer session. So, let’s have it. Just who in the heck are you?”
Martin gave another quick look around the area. Two more mechanics or crew members were busy checking equipment around the engine room. If they had taken notice of his being there, they gave no indication of it. To avoid any further problems, he needed to answer the man’s question, though he wasn’t sure what effect doing so might have, or if he should be evasive or forthright. “The name is Martin Taylor.”
“Okay, Martin Taylor, now for the big one. Are you supposed to be here on-board the Eldridge?”
Hearing the name of the ship put a knot in Martin’s stomach. After hearing the dates, he’d figured that was the case, but the confirmation of it intensified the fear building in his gut. His attempt to derail Doctor Stewart had backfired, and now he was traveling, through no control of his own, to times and places locked into the programming of Stewart’s machine. Random or not, that could not be good. And beneath it all, a disturbing question formed in Martin’s mind. What would happen to him if he were onboard the Eldridge when the ship went through the experiment, which ultimately sent it into hyperspace?
For the first time since arriving, Martin scanned the name displayed on the mechanic’s shirt. It was Wilson. “This is going to sound insane, Wilson, but I need to get off this ship. I’m not supposed to be here.”
Wilson took off his hat and scratched hi
s head. “Well, partner, I’m way ahead of you on that one.”
Martin heard a door opening, and Wilson and the other mechanics stood upright and rigid.
Two men in uniform and a third one in civilian clothes walked over to where Martin and the mechanic were standing. To the sailors, the tall one said, “At ease, gentlemen.”
To Martin, he said, “Who are you, and how in blazes did you get onboard the Eldridge?”
Martin briefly studied the three men in front of him, two naval officers and an engineer or scientist, if he had to guess. He directed his answer to all three but focused on the only civilian in the mix. “Project Rainbow had a few side effects,” he said, “My being here is an accident.”
The men exchanged nervous glances. “He looks a lot like one of the FC’s, Fire Controlman Devereaux,” one officer said.
“Permission to speak?” the mechanic, Wilson said.
“Permission granted.”
“It’s just that I noticed that too. He looks like an older version of Devereaux.”
“It would be better for everyone if you suspended the experiment momentarily and let me off the ship,” Martin said.
The officers stepped toward Martin, but the civilian waved them off. “We’re going to ask you again, who are you, and how did you get onboard?”
The scientist spoke with a slight German accent. Martin suspected he’d said too much already, opening himself up for all kinds of questions he probably shouldn’t answer. He wasn’t traveling the way he had before, something he needed to keep in mind. Now more than ever, he had to consider that anything he said or did could alter the future in ways he couldn’t understand. “The name is Martin Taylor, and I’m not entirely sure how I ended up here.”
The scientist rubbed his chin. “Are you from another time and place? We will have a problem with zero reference points, won’t we? You came to warn us.”
Martin thought about the things he had read concerning the Philadelphia Experiment and the Eldridge’s return after its temporary disappearance caused by the generators and other equipment installed to render the ship invisible. Crew members had faded in and out, while others were physically embedded into the steel decking of the ship. If the stories could be believed, things would go wrong, and it would probably happen soon. But would Martin’s telling them this accomplish anything positive?
“I didn’t come to warn anybody about anything, but that would be a good idea. The whole thing was a big mistake.”
The two officers lined up on each side of Martin and gripped his lower biceps. Without another word, they forced him to walk between them toward the door they had come in.
Martin didn’t know where they were taking him, but he suspected it would be to some detention area. They would lock him away, and he would be trapped there when the ship went into hyperspace. It occurred to him that his being in this time and place might not be an accident at all but could have resulted from Doctor Stewart’s intentional programming. True, Martin had damaged the computers, but that might not have changed any instructions already encoded into the time machine. Stewart knew or suspected Martin’s going down with the ship, so to speak, might well trap him in 1943 forever.
“Okay,” Martin said, “yes, things will go wrong both during and after the experiment.”
“Wait,” the scientist said, “I want to question the prisoner again.”
The officers weren’t buying it, but they paused anyway.
Martin turned toward the man who had spoken. He and his captors had left the engine room and had just started to climb a tight set of stairs.
“We will fail in our attempt, is that what you are saying?”
“That depends on your definition of failure,” Martin said. “The magnetic field will cause the Eldridge to disappear for a few hours. However, when the ship comes back, there will be problems.”
“What sort of problems are we talking about?”
“Well, you might want to delay the experiment until you have had time to study the negative effects on the ship’s personnel caused by high levels of electricity and fluctuating electromagnetic fields.”
“Would you be willing to assist me with these tests?”
One officer tightened his grip. “Doctor Von Neumann, this is highly irregular. Everything is set and ready. The time for testing is over. We probably couldn’t stop it now even if we wanted to.”
“All right,” Martin said, “I’ll help.”
He paused. What was he supposed to say? He didn’t want to do anything that might damage the future or the past, but he didn’t want to be caught up in the experiment. And while the officers maintained a steadfast outward appearance, Martin had detected a sense of hesitancy in the voice of the one who had spoken. He wasn’t sure about the whole thing either. And this could buy Martin some time.
“I’m no scientist or engineer,” Martin continued, “but I’ll do what I can.”
Von Neumann turned toward the officers. “You are both familiar with my concerns. I have many times made them known to you. And now, the stranger confirms it. We must not go through with the test. It is not time. We are not ready.”
“I know how you feel about it,” the officer said. “But I have on numerous occasions personally passed those concerns up the chain of command.” The officer paused and shook his head. “They intend to go through with the experiment, Doctor Von Neumann, and they intend to do it today. Nothing I say or do at this point is going to change that.”
“Some of the crewmen will be physically altered in hideous ways,” Martin said. At this point, all he wanted to do was delay it. “Others will be driven insane.”
“Please, Commander Ballinger. I have feared this very thing, even dreamed of it. We must listen to the stranger. We must stop the experiment, or we will suffer on our hands the blood of your crewmen.”
“How,” Commander Ballinger asked, “could you possibly know this?”
“Because I’ve read about it,” Martin said. “It’s not exactly common knowledge in my time, but it’s out there for anyone who takes the time to search for it.”
“Read about it, in your time? For crying out loud, if you ask me, you’re the one who is insane. We can’t stop the experiment, especially on the word of this crackpot.”
“No,” Von Neumann said, “time travel is theoretically possible. I and many of my colleagues truly believe this. As I’ve warned, the experiment could go horribly wrong.”
The officers tightened their grip and urged Martin forward, forcing him to climb the stairs with them. “I’m sorry,” Commander Ballinger said, “It’s just too late to stop it now.”
Desperation and helplessness formed in Martin’s mind. He was a prisoner. There was no getting around it. Even if he could convince Von Neumann and the officers to delay the experiment, what good would it do? He would still be here, lost in a place where he didn’t belong. The more he thought about it the more he believed Doctor Steward had known exactly what he was doing when he shoved Martin into the magnetic field. Perhaps Stewart had gone to the abandoned warehouse in Tulsa with intentions of traveling back to disrupt the birth of Candy Barnes, but as soon as he’d discovered Martin’s presence, which he must have done through surveillance or some other means, he had changed the programming and waited in the basement for Martin to stumble into the trap. With Martin out of the way, Stewart could more easily continue with his twisted plans. He would eliminate Candy Barnes and then focus his attention on Luke and Susan.
The officer opened another door, and sunlight blazed into Martin’s eyes. Again, Martin was shoved forward, and he stepped over the bottom of the entryway outside and onto the main deck of the ship, somewhere near the front of the vessel. He had n
o idea why he had been brought here and not taken to a detention area.
The mechanics had stayed behind in the engine room, and it was only Martin, Von Neumann, and the two officers on deck. At least that Martin could see. It all seemed quite odd, and that was when things began to happen.
It started as a vibration, barely discernible at first, but that suddenly changed as the disturbance escalated into a noticeable shaking of the decking beneath Martin’s feet.
Von Neumann and the officers glanced at one another and checked their watches.
Judging from the looks on their faces, Martin suspected the trio had been caught off guard, which probably meant the experiment had started before its scheduled time.
Commander Ballinger was the first to act. He nodded toward the door they had exited and then urged everyone toward it.
Getting back below deck was the plan, but it didn’t happen that way. Martin had only taken a few steps when a current of electricity streaked through the air and crackled like lightning as it exploded onto the deck just in front of him. He looked up to see the ship engulfed in what looked like a miniature storm that formed a violent bubble around the vessel. Electricity snaked through the air like blue serpents squirming for survival.
The officers let go of Martin’s arms and hurried toward the door leading beneath the main deck.
Martin made to follow them but changed his mind. No one was paying attention to him now. It had become a matter of getting to safety, everyone looking out for his own path, but it was Martin’s chance to escape. Into what exactly, he didn’t know, but every thought in his mind was telling him to go with it.
The ship’s outer railing was only a few feet away. Martin had an inherent fear of water, especially deep water, and he was a terrible diver, but he’d read that some crew members had jumped overboard as the Eldridge had been drawn into wherever the magnetic bubble had taken it.
Martin didn’t recall deciding to turn around and make a run for it, but he found himself sprinting toward the railing. He thought he heard someone from behind calling for him to halt followed by two loud reports fired in rapid succession, but with all the noise and confusion, he could not be sure.