by Zack Mason
Ty would be sent on patrol with his platoon tomorrow evening. Right about sunset, he would be killed along with almost all of his unit and a significant portion of his platoon.
The base had initially descended into chaos at the onset of the initial surprise bombardment at dawn, but marines are well-trained, and they quickly took control of the situation and began to counter-attack.
If you could ignore the current barrage of mortars and rockets, you might say things had calmed down significantly since sunrise. At least, there was no longer a sense of franticness in the movements around the base.
Mark found Ty, whose eyes widened in awe upon seeing him.
“Who are you, mister?”
“Do you believe me now?”
“Yesterday at noon....that first song was just like you said “A Whiter Shade of Pale.”
“And the undefeatable UCLA?”
Ty hung his head. “They lost. 71-69. News came in on the radio about midnight last night.”
“Well?”
“I ain’t heard nothing about no figure skating yet, but unless you’re one heck of a lucky guesser, I’m guessing that you are who you say you are.” He paused, thinking. “So, how does that thing work anyway?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?!”
“Look, I just inherited this thing, okay? I use it just fine, but I don’t claim to know how it works.”
“And you’re not with the government?”
“No.”
“Why are you here, then? I mean....this is pretty weird showing up in the middle of all this....in ‘Nam. Why me? Why now?”
Mark kicked the gravel with his shoe.
“Why you? You’ll understand that soon enough. Too complicated to explain here. Why now? To be frank, I had to reach you after you’d gained training and experience in the Marines, but before your....er....your death.”
“You said that before. So....what? According to you, I’m supposed to die in a couple of days?”
“Tomorrow.”
Ty grimaced. “Why should I believe you?”
“Remember UCLA?”
No answer.
“Look, I know it’s a lot to take in. I know it sounds fantastic, but why would I lie? Why else would I be here right now, risking my own neck. Any one of these incoming mortars could land a direct hit on yours truly at any moment. You’ve seen what I can do. Why would I risk coming here if talking with you weren’t important?”
“I guess. It’s just crazy, man. I mean, cert’fiably insane. What is it you want from me then? You want me to be some kind of mercenary or something?”
“No. I want you to join my time-travel company.”
“Why? To make money?”
“No, to save lives.”
“I’m saving lives here, man. I’ve got the backs of all my buds.”
“Not after tomorrow you won’t.”
Silence.
Ty was chewing on it hard. The offer would be difficult for him to accept.
“How could I go? They’ll declare me AWOL.”
“I’ve got a shifter for you — another watch just like mine. When you go out on patrol tomorrow, we’ll both just shift out once the firefight begins. You’ll be classified MIA.”
“What happens to my platoon?”
“Most of them don’t make it.”
More silence.
“All right. Look. I’ll go with you, but not now. I ain’t gonna abandon my unit. Gotta get them through this alive. If that thing is what you say it is, then use it to save me somehow, but I ain’t leavin’ my unit!”
“Look, it doesn’t quite work that way....”
“Just do it, or it don’t matter, got it?”
Mark was frustrated. The firefight in the jungle tomorrow would be intense. With the shifter’s limitations, Mark would only be able to take out three shooters at the most, not to mention the constant risk random flying metal would make to his own health. One stray bullet and his time-traveling days would be over.
He reached down and unzipped his duffel bag.
“Fine. I was afraid you’d say that. Put this on at least.” Mark pulled a Kevlar vest from the bag and handed it to Ty.
“What is this?”
“It’s a bullet-proof vest. It won’t stop everything, especially larger ammo, but it’ll help. I’ve got one too.”
“All right.”
“Here. Take this also.” Mark extended the last unused shifter to Ty.
It seemed like he had been destined to find three watches, and now he’d found the home for the last one. One for himself, one for Hardy, and one for Ty.
Ty shook his head vehemently. “Don’t want no part of that till we’re done here. Get me?”
“Sure.”
Ty stormed off, oblivious to the explosions in the distance.
***
January was a cooler month in Vietnam, so at least the temperatures weren’t stifling. There weren’t even any mosquitos to deal with yet. Not at all what one would expect for tropical South Asia..
Mark had gotten himself assigned to Ty’s unit fairly easily. He’d brought along falsified papers for just such an instance which identified him as a intelligence officer who should be afforded every courtesy. If such an officer wished to have himself assigned to a perilous patrol in the middle of a intensely heated gun battle, well, it was only courteous of Ty’s superior officers to allow it.
Their platoon broke up into four units of ten men each. Each unit was independently attempting to covertly scale Hill 881 in order to shake up the mortar positions on top. Ty’s unit was making its way through a flat wooded area where two streams came together.
The fight began suddenly with the crack of a single rifle shot, followed by a torrent of ensuing gunfire. That very first shot, though, was the critical one. It had killed Ty. His body fell limply to the ground by Mark’s feet, blood pouring from the side of his head.
Fortunately, Mark had seen the shooter’s location. Ducking behind some brush for cover, he shifted forward 30 years into the future. Then, calmly, he walked to the spot where he knew Ty’s shooter would be.
This one’s for you, Hardy. Shift ‘n’ strike.
Mark popped back into 1968 two feet away from the VC sniper who was aiming for Ty’s head, three seconds before the sniper would pull the trigger. Mark pulled his instead and the sniper slumped over, dead. Mark had used a silencer, but gunfire still erupted on all sides. He scrambled back to Ty’s position.
Ty was all right now, sitting with his back to a tree trunk, using it as cover.
“I got the sniper that was supposed to take you out,” Mark called over the deafening staccato bursts.
“Great!”
Ty turned and sprayed some bushes with automatic fire.
“This is getting out of control. Let’s get out of here!” Mark yelled.
Just then, a well-liked, young private nicknamed Sandy, who was hunkering down nearby, fell over. He’d been strafed by a stream of bullets pouring out of some brush about 20 yards away.
Ty’s face twisted in anger. He stood, grabbed Mark by the shirt collar and thrust him up against a tree.
“Marine! My unit is dying around me! Get fighting! Or is there no Marine left in you?”
Mark felt it then. The call. The rush, the over-whelming fury that filled your veins in the heart of a battle for survival. It was a fierce anger that sharpened into an even fiercer determination. He knew one’s duty to a fellow Marine.
Mark nodded firmly.
“Good!” Ty released his frenetic grip. “Start by saving him!” He pointed to Sandy’s bloody figure.
A wild war whoop burst from Mark’s lungs, and he ran toward the brush hiding Sandy’s assassin. He shifted, disappearing from Ty’s view in mid-stride. He shifted back to exactly the right moment and killed the VC before the communist could send the strafing fire Sandy’s way.
Only a couple more shifts before the watch shut down. A third snipe
r was hidden up in some branches about ten yards away. Mark shifted out and in again, taking that sniper out before he could fire.
Mark’s shifter was now blinking that all too-familiar red. Any further heroics on his part would be unassisted by time-travel.
Mark tossed a grenade at a nearby pocket of resistance and sent a parade of bullets toward some other brush as he ran back to rejoin Ty.
“I can’t shift anymore!”
“What?!”
“You can only shift six times in an hour. Then, it shuts down.” They both dove for a ditch and covered their heads as an NVA grenade went off nearby.
They fought well together. Mark laid down covering fire for Ty as he advanced, and vice-versa.
Then, Hog went down. Hog was a corporal, another one of Ty’s pals. Ty turned to Mark with pleading eyes. Mark was at a loss. Then, he remembered.
He searched his pack and found the third shifter. He held it out to Ty.
“If you put this on, it’s on for good! You will not be able to get it off again!” He shouted over the gunfire.
Ty nodded that he understood. Mark pulled him close and hurriedly explained how to use the watch. Then Ty was off into the brush.
The first thing Mark noticed was that Hog was no longer down. It was an odd thing to see history unmade in front of your eyes.
Next, several grenades among the VC went off almost simultaneously. A few moments later, Ty staggered back. Vomit covered the front of his uniform.
“Does this thing make you sick?” he croaked.
“Yeah, but you'll get used to it.”
The enemy fire was dying off now. The VC were in retreat.
“Time Gives Good Counsel”
~ Anonymous
September 12th, 2012, Boston, MA
Ty and Hardy sat before Mark in leather-backed chairs, a thick, cherry wood desk between them and him. More than ever, Mark was struck by the sheer irony of the situation. Originally, Hardy and Ty had recruited and trained him. Then, after they’d disappeared, Mark had hired Ty and Hardy and was now beginning their training.
The question was: Who really started the company? Who had hired whom?
The paradoxes involved were mind-boggling. Mark could philosophize with the best of them, but when things needed getting done, he didn’t ponder such questions long. If the answer wasn’t obvious, he moved on. There would be time to dwell on it later.
“Good to see you both, gentlemen.” Mark smiled sincerely. It was good to see them. They were his only real friends left in the world, even if they didn’t know it yet.
Hardy piped up with a hesitant “You too....Sir.”
Ty remained silent.
“No need for formality. Call me Mark. Hardy, this is Ty Jennings. Ty, meet Hardy Phillips.” They shook hands awkwardly.
“We’re all ex-military here. Ty and I are both Marines, Hardy is Delta.” That made the men a little more comfortable. “I think you both understand that the devices I gave you are time-travel machines, correct?”
They both nodded.
“One thing that is different for the three of us is our home times. I am from 2012, Hardy’s from 1987, and Ty’s from 1968.”
Ty broke in, “Why me...well, I mean, why us? Out of all the people you could have picked.”
“Gentlemen, due to the nature of these watches, I was obviously privy to information about both of you that neither of you could possibly know about yourselves yet. I will not elaborate more than that at this time, other than to say that you will understand some day.”
Hardy’s blank expression belied his deep contemplation of what Mark was saying.
“I’m not sure I can accept that,” he said. “I just don’t get it.”
“Believe it or not, neither do I,” Mark replied smugly.
Mark was thoroughly enjoying turning the tables on Hardy with cryptic answers, confusing the Delta man even more. A little payback wouldn’t hurt. He might even shrug a time or two just for the heck of it.
“Tell us about the watches.”
“I call them “shifters”. You’ll notice your shifter has an upper and a lower digital display. The two displays will always represent two different moments in time. One will be the time you are currently in, the other is the time you will go to upon pressing the red button underneath the displays.”
“The settings do not switch places as you switch times. In other words, if you are in 2012, and the upper display reads 2012, then the upper display represents your current time. Let’s say, in such a case, the bottom display read 1987. That would be the time to which you would shift.
“If then, you did shift to 1987, the numbers would not shift positions. So, 2012 would remain in the upper display, but now it would represent the target time you would shift to, not the current time, and 1987 would still be in the bottom display, now representing the current time.
“That feature can save your neck. If you ever shift and there turns out to be some urgent reason why you need to shift back immediately, you only have to hit the red button again. No need to reset any dials.
“Each display has a series of 6 numbers followed by a letter and a dash, and then 8 more numbers. The first six numbers represent the time in terms of hour, minute, and second. The letter will always be a “P” or an “A”, reflecting PM or AM. The last 8 letters represent the date. Month, day, and year, in that order.”
Both men were staring at the watches on their wrists, fingers playing with the miniature buttons on the sides, changing the displays to random dates.
“Don’t do any shifting yet, not until I’ve explained more. You can easily get yourself into trouble.”
“Who made these?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I mean, I don’t know. Really. I don’t know much more about them than you do, other than what I’ve learned through experience.”
“Who gave them to you?”
“Nobody. I just found them.”
“Where?”
“In the woods.”
Hardy grunted.
Ty slapped his knee. “You’ve got to be kidding me. So, this really isn’t a government project?”
“Nope.”
Ty wore a bizarre kind of smirk on his face. Hardy stared at the floor.
“I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you both finish listening to my little orientation seminar? Think you can keep your yaps shut till then?”
They grinned, happy to hear the assertive tone in his voice. Being military, strong leadership made them comfortable, weak leadership, uneasy.
“When you shift, you’ll notice your body being yanked around some. Most times, it’s quite subtle, but every now and then, you’ll feel like you’re on a roller coaster.
“That’s because whenever you shift to another time, there will be slight variations in the elevation of the terrain, location of plant growth, etc. Buildings and floors settle over the years as well. Things change. Most of the time, this is no problem.
“However, every now and then, your position in your target time will be occupied by another object you weren’t expecting. Your shifter is somehow able to detect this and moves your physical position along with your temporal to compensate and prevent you from appearing in the middle of a tree, or a wall, or something else unexpected. When this happens, you’ll experience a severe wrenching sensation as your body is moved to an unoccupied position. It is not pleasant when that happens, but it normally doesn’t hurt either. Usually, just leaves you feeling very disoriented.
“This not only works horizontally, but vertically as well. Once, I shifted to a time when the ground was about twenty feet higher than the time from when I’d shifted. It felt like I was being ripped to pieces as it yanked me upward. It did hurt that time. Try to avoid doing that. I’m not sure what the shifter’s limitations are. There may be a limit to what it can handle and you could wind up shifting into the middle of a fifty foot pile of dirt. Not fun.
> “Another time, I shifted to a future year where the hill beneath me had been strip mined. If I hadn’t been able to shift back at the punch of a button, I would have fallen to my death. So, be careful.
“You can only shift six times successively within one hour, or eight successive times within twelve hours. After about the third time, you’ll notice yourself becoming increasingly nauseous with each successive shift. After six times in a row, I guarantee you’ll be heaving your lunch. And your watch will shut down. The displays will flash red and you won’t be able to shift again for about twenty-four hours.
“Any questions?” Mark leaned back in his chair, fingers interlaced behind his head.
“What about your clothes?” Hardy asked.
Ty snickered.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean....why don’t you show up naked when you shift?”
“Not sure. The best we can figure is the shifter is somehow able to detect the dimensions of the person it’s attached to along with any small objects touching that person. Of course, you never lose your clothes when you shift, or the fillings in your teeth for that matter. The change in your pocket stays with you. Small to medium-size objects you hold in hand will go with you. I’ve transported all kinds of things with me, weapons, money, papers, electronic devices.”
“Can you take another person with you...one who doesn’t have a shifter?”
“Uh....not sure. Never tried that.”
“Might be worth a shot.”
Mark nodded.
Now Ty spoke up, “So, why are we here? What do you want from us?”
“Guys, I’ll be frank. The devices I’ve given you are yours. Even if I wanted them back, there’s no way to get them off your wrist short of cutting your hand off. Obviously, you can do all kinds of amazing things with them.
“If you want to get rich, it's easy as pie with these shifters. I can show you how to do it the simple and quick way. Heck, if you prefer, I’ll give you however many millions you want. I’ve already made billions and it just keeps increasing.
“What I'll tell you though, is that after I accumulated all my wealth, something was still missing. I felt empty. I wanted....I needed something more. I knew I had to use this thing to help people.