by Zack Mason
He really didn’t want to watch (or hear) the accident take place over and over again, which is what he would have to do if he wanted to stop the vehicle at fault before it ran the stop sign. In the end, it felt easier to mess with the victim’s car. From the police report, he knew their address. He drove to their home and shifted back to a few hours before the accident.
The shift startled Mark because he hadn’t expected to immediately see the little boy playing outside on the sidewalk. Thankfully, the child didn’t notice him phase into solidity. He was a cute little kid, probably about two and a half. Brown hair, blue eyes. He was playing with some toy cars, rolling them up and down the walkway leading to his front door.
The mother soon emerged from the house, her arms overloaded with miscellaneous bags to load in the car. Mark had thought it was odd she’d leave the kid unattended there. He was a little young to be outside by himself, but she was apparently ferrying stuff back and forth from the house to the car and watching him from inside while she did.
“Tyler!” he heard her call, “Come inside honey, it’s time for lunch.”
The boy pretended not to hear, he was so engrossed in his game.
“Tyler! Come on! If you don’t come right away, there’ll be no Goldfish after.”
That seemed to get his attention. Reluctantly, he abandoned his cars on the sidewalk and waddled inside.
Mark stayed where he was for a few minutes to make sure the coast was clear and then went into action. He checked the driver’s door. It was unlocked. He popped the hood, and the rest was quick work. He loosened a battery cable and then disconnected three of the lines running from the plugs to the distributor cap.
That would delay her for hours, if not a couple of days. She would be frustrated by the ruined plans, and then angry when she discovered someone had deliberately sabotaged her, but if she only knew what being on time today would cost her, she would embrace this frustration like a long-desired birthday present.
Even if she turned out to be a roadside mechanic in disguise and figured out what was wrong, while she could fix his tricks pretty quickly, it would still be too late. Mark would be gone and she’d be held up for at least a few minutes, which meant little Tyler would live to be a three year-old.
For weeks, Mark continued acting on information gleaned from the daily police reports to save people from the worst tragedies of the day around Boston. He was getting pretty good at it too. He’d learned to be more efficient in how he solved things.
Since he could only shift six times within 24 hours, if he returned to his home-time after each event, he could only stop three horrors per day, and that was without any glitches. However, if he timed things right, he could shift back to early in the morning of the previous day and just drive from scene to scene changing what he wanted as he went. When he did it that way, he was only limited by how fast he could drive and the path he chose, though he often had to shift out of a scene quickly due to the manner in which he stopped a crime, like when he’d killed the rapist that first day.
There were re-dos, panicked escapes, and cases when several events occurred in too quick a succession, forcing him to use his shifter in order to have enough time to get to both. In short, his goal was to stop 7 or 8 bad events each day while only using 3 shifts to do it. That way his watch never shut down and he could work each and every day. On the days when he did hit six shifts, he was forced to take the entire next day off while the watch recovered, and that was annoying.
He was hitting his goal more often than not lately, which elated him. Still, he longed for company. This job was a lonely one. He had two more unused watches sitting in that old backpack. Perhaps it was time to do something with them.
***
September 8th, 2012, Boston, MA
The late afternoon sun gleamed streaks of gold upon her hair as she walked in, like the glimmering halo of an angel. The effect was momentary, but striking. Savannah Stanford moved further into the office and out of the light, returning to the realm of mortal women. She bore an armful of antique-looking costumes.
“I’ve got another fifty ready for you, Mr. Carpen. They’re out in the van.”
“Please. Call me Mark.”
“Okay, Mark.”
“I’ll help you carry them in.”
He wheeled a large cart outside and helped her unload the van onto it. Her mother had purchased the van with Mark’s initial contract. Their goal back then was to get him fifty costumes per week. Once they’d reached a thousand, he’d gone ahead and set up his armory in the hangar. They still had another thousand to go after that, so Mark met Savannah here once a week to collect their work. The weekly rendezvous was a nice respite from his crime-stopping routine.
“Savannah, would you consider coming to work for me full-time?”
“Uh....well....I’ve got my classes.”
“Sure. We could work around those. I’d pay you well.”
She blushed. “What kind of work would I be doing?”
“Some of it would be receptionist type work. I have need of that. But a lot of it would be historical research. Right up your alley.”
“I’d have to talk to Mom about it.”
“Is that a yes?”
She smiled.
***
June 2nd, 1987, Fort Bragg, NC
The morning was cool and breezy. Pleasant. Gray skies hung low over Fort Bragg, the remnants of a pre-dawn fog that had lifted recently. About a hundred yards away, a platoon of soldiers jogged along an asphalt path, the abrupt calls of their sergeant easily carrying through the morning air.
A large flag flew atop a nearby pole, its bold stars and stripes waving proudly in the breeze. Seeing flags fly always stirred memories of his previous service. For him, this base felt like home.
Mark was dressed in the uniform of an army captain, with all the proper insignia. This rank would be sufficient enough to impress authority, but not high enough to garner unwanted attention.
The platoon was closer now, which meant his target was approaching. The sound of their unified cadence blended with the measured beats of their deep-voiced chant.
As the soldiers passed, Mark whistled sharply and barked, “Phillips!”
Hardy Phillips slowed and then broke from the rest of the platoon once he recognized the rank on Mark’s uniform. He jogged over. Their eyes met, but Mark saw no sign of recognition in them.
“Sir!” Hardy snapped to attention and saluted. Mark returned the salute.
“Follow me, soldier.”
Mark led Phillips into a currently empty office next to the mess hall. He enjoyed giving Hardy instructions for a change instead of the other way around, even if Hardy didn’t know him from Adam.
“Sit.” Mark motioned to a chair. “You are Hardin Phillips, rank Sergeant First Class, Delta Force. Is that correct?”
“That is my rank, sir.”
“But you are not in Delta Force?”
Hardy remained silent, unsure how to answer. Delta Force was a secretive unit and he was not free to divulge his membership to just anybody. Even though they were here at Delta Force’s home, Fort Bragg, Hardy did not know who Mark was.
“You don’t know me, do you, sergeant?” Mark studied him for a reaction.
“I’m sorry, sir. I do not.”
“No matter. I know you. That’s what’s important. And I know you’re Delta.”
Phillips was puzzled.
Mark continued, “If you did know me, you’d see how ironic this whole meeting is.”
“I....I’m sorry, sir, you’ve lost me.”
Mark gestured dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not exactly who I appear to be, but you’ll find that out soon enough. Here. Take a look at this.”
He flipped a newspaper onto the desk in front of Phillips.
“What’s that look like to you, sergeant?”
“A newspaper?” Phillips tilted his head curiously.
“Of course, it’s a newspaper. What do you no
tice about it?”
“I dunno.” Hardy studied the front of it. “It’s dated June 4th, today’s just the 2nd.”
“Yep.”
“So what? It’s a misprint.”
“You hang on to that paper. Keep it tucked away, under wraps, if you know what I mean. Till the 4th. Meet me here at 0700 on June 5th. Come alone and tell no one of this meeting. Dismissed.”
Hardy was clearly confused, but had just received an order from a superior officer. Reluctantly, he rose and left the building.
Mark waited until Phillips was out of sight. Then, he set his watch to 0700 on June 5th and hit the button. Mark loved not having to wait for things. He could have set the time to slightly earlier than 0700 to be sure and arrive first, but this way would be more fun.
Phillips nearly fell out of his chair in shock as Mark materialized in front of him with an electric hiss. The Delta warrior leapt to his feet, completely unnerved.
“Who....what....who are you? What just happened?” He was paler than a Canadian at the beach.
“Son, how would you like a chance to be involved in a project that has the potential to impact the entire world for good, as well as serve your country?”
“Did....uh....did you just teleport? How did you do that?”
“In a way.”
“This has to be classified, sir!”
“I repeat, son, how would you like the chance to be involved in a project that has the potential to impact the entire world, as well as serve your country?”
“That’s what I’m in Delta for, sir.” He was recovering some from his initial shock.
“Yes, I know. This, however, would be....different.”
“That paper you gave me!”
“Yes?”
Understanding dawned on Hardy’s face.
“That paper you gave me. It was full of things that hadn’t happened yet! Sports, crimes, weather, even a bombing! It was yesterday’s paper. I know — I saw copies.”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“But how?”
“Take a look at my watch. Have you ever seen anything like it?” Mark extended his wrist.
Hardy examined it thoroughly.
“No.”
“To be blunt, it’s a time machine.”
Hardy drew a sharp intake of breath.
“It’s true,” Mark affirmed.
“I....I guess, I know that. I mean, how else can I explain what I’ve just seen? You just appeared out of nowhere....and this paper. It’s....crazy.”
“I actually just left our meeting three days ago. For you, it’s been three days. For me, just a matter of seconds.”
“Huh? Oh....yeah.” He was processing. “Who are you, sir? I mean, why me? This has gotta be way over my security clearance.”
“My name is Mark Carpen. I’m actually no longer on active duty, and this has nothing to do with any military project.”
Hardy's eyes narrowed sharply. “What? Why shouldn’t I turn you in then? This is a tightly secured military base.”
“You could try. I’d just hit this little red button and quietly shift back to the time from which I came, leaving you to look like a total schmuck.”
Hardy frowned. “I don’t get it. Why are you here? Why are you showing me this?”
“Because I’ve researched your record. I think you would make a great addition to my company.”
“What company? What kind of company?”
“My time-travel company.”
“Look, I’m no mercenary. I took an oath to the United States of America, and I intend to keep it.”
“I’m not hiring you for an army, son. I’m calling you to something higher. I intend to use this powerful tool to help people in a thousand different ways, and we’d probably help our country too. I am an ex-Marine for goodness sakes. There’s no way on earth I’d want to see this thing misused for anything like you’re thinking.”
“What do you want me to do?”
Mark set his bag on the table and unzipped it. He reached in and pulled out one of the two extra shifter/watches he’d had since that first day in the woods. He now had a home for one of them. He extended it to Hardy.
“Take this and put it on. A warning though, once you put it on, you will not be able to get it back off.” He also handed Hardy a slip of paper. “Go to your superior officer and tender your resignation, effective whenever you want. Time makes no difference to me, as you can see. It’s just a matter of how much of your life you want to lose before we get started.
“Once you’re ready, that paper has an address and some numbers on it. Go to that address and set your watch to match the numbers. Then, push the red button, and I’ll meet you there.”
Ty proved to be much harder to locate than Hardy. Mark had to do a good bit of research to figure out where and when to look for his friend.
He finally found him in the middle of a bloody battle in Vietnam. At a time when many young men were dodging the draft, Ty had actually gone and volunteered to be a Marine. Of course, before the ink was dry on his sign-up papers, they'd whisked him off to the war.
Mark didn’t have a lot of options when it came to contacting Ty. He couldn’t approach him before Ty entered the military or had a chance to fight in the war. Mark needed him to have received all his training and gain some real fighting experience if he was going to be of use to Mark.
What really made it difficult, though, was that military records showed Ty as killed in action at Khe Sanh in 1968. That meant Mark had to travel to Vietnam to intercept Ty in the middle of the battle of Khe Sanh before he was killed.
Some red dirt, splotches of grass, and a feeble concrete monument that resembled a broken tablet were all that remained of the battlefield of Khe Sanh in modern times. Large clearings surrounded the former marine base and broken hill peaks covered by jungle brush stood visible in the near distance.
In 1968, Khe Sanh had been a US military base located 12 miles south of the border with North Vietnam and had been manned by two regiments of Marines. Ty’s company had been stationed there.
This trip proved to be a bit more complex than most for Mark. He’d had to fly into communist Vietnam, which had opened back up for tourism in the 1990's, and then travel to the former site of Khe Sanh before he could shift.
Once he reached the site, Mark set his shifter to 2:00 AM on January 19th, 1968. That was two days before the North Vietnamese would begin their offensive against the marines.
Appearing in the middle of the night, Mark was challenged by no one. He bode his time until morning when the base began to stir and then went to look for Ty.
Mark hadn’t thought it possible, but Ty looked even more muscular and toned than during their mission to save Jefferson Sr. Now that he thought about it, was that trip to save Ty’s grandfather in their past....or their future? It was definitely in Mark’s past. Was it in Ty’s future or would it never happen now? Mark was creating a heck of a paradox here and it was making his head hurt.
He approached Ty when he was alone so they could talk in private. Since time was short, this initial conversation would have to be more direct than the one with Hardy.
“What’s up, Captain?”
Ty did not stand to attention or snap a sharp salute. Instead, he slouched on top of a crate with his back to a tent, acknowledging Mark only with his eyes. His manner was relaxed, unimpressed by rank and decorum. The formalities of soldiering often evaporated on the extended battlefield, especially in Vietnam.
“Jennings, you don’t know me, but I know you. This conversation will sound very odd, but there’s no help for it, so let’s get started. Take a good look at my watch. Have you ever seen anything like it?”
“Uh...no.” His forehead creased in puzzlement. “Is that new Marine issue?”
“No, sergeant. It’s a time-travel device.”
Ty broke into a large grin, and guffawed. “Shoot, sir, you had me going there for a minute.”
“This isn’t a joke, Sergeant. I’
m here on false pretenses. I’m not a Marine....at least not any more. I’m a civilian now. I’m here because you are going to die in 3 days and 11 hours. I’m going to get you out of here before that happens.”
Ty’s face revealed uncertainty but masked a much stronger incredulity. “Hey, ya know. It’s been fun an’ all, but this joke, man, it really ain’t that funny. Pretty mean sayin’ sometin’ like that.”
He turned to walk away, but Mark grabbed his arm. Ty swung back around, the beginnings of anger simmering in his eyes. The Ty he knew did not have much of a temper and Mark was not used to seeing such flares in Ty’s normally jovial face. When Mark was sure he had Ty's attention again, he released his arm.
“Watch this.” Mark touched his shifter and disappeared.
Ty’s mouth still hung open when Mark popped back into existence a few seconds later. He was speechless.
“Listen closely,” Mark continued, “At noon today, the first song to come on the radio will be “A Whiter Shade of Pale”. Peggy Fleming is going to win the US Female Figure skating championship tomorrow, and Houston is going to beat UCLA 71-69. When those things happen, come find me. I’ve got important information for you.”
Mark clapped Ty on the shoulder and began to walk away.
“Hey, Mac!” Ty called out behind him, “UCLA is on a 47 game winning streak if you hadn’t heard! Houston ain’t never gonna beat that.”
Mark didn’t look back.
January 21st, 1968 12:00 PM, Khe Sanh, Vietnam
At 0530 that morning, the North Vietnamese Army had begun bombarding the marine combat base at Khe Sanh with heavy mortar fire and 122mm rockets. This first day of the siege of Khe Sanh, most of the base’s fuel and ammunition supplies would be destroyed.
Resupply helicopters would work frantically over the next few days to keep the marines supplied with everything they would need to fight back. Marine units would be sent out into the hills on patrol to root out the NVA positions and relieve the base of some of the pressure.