Keeper of Time (Wealth of Time Series, Book 4)

by Andre Gonzalez

  Half of the crowd remained silent while the other half cheered for Chris and his promises. A divide started that very day. The ultra-rich felt entitled to their wealth, as if anyone else who might rise to their level somehow made them less wealthy.

  Little did Chris know when he stepped into the role, that those same wealthy members were the ones running the organization all along. They made generous upfront offers to new recruits, just like Chris, but hoarded all of the wealth for themselves. Their goal had been to run a sort of slave ring, giving people the gift of time travel, but using it to earn themselves more money off their labor from assigned missions.

  This particular speech came before Chris had formally gone through the process to become the Keeper of Time. They didn’t have elections—the current Keeper decided who they wanted to hand their power over to—but they did like to take any potential candidates around the continent to deliver speeches and see how the crowds responded.

  Chris rose to power thanks to a perfect storm. Had it been any other Keeper of Time, they wouldn’t have so much as looked in Chris’s direction for the powerful role. But the sitting Keeper felt the urge to shake things up and stray from the status quo. He wanted fresh blood, and someone in it for the long haul. Someone with youth and ambition.

  The Keeper of Time, Chester Mayfield, joined Chris at a local diner after his speech.

  “That’s quite the show you put on back there,” he said, sipping from a steaming cup of black coffee. Chester, like every other Keeper before him, was an older man, hair well beyond gray, wrinkles and bags plentiful across his face, and a raspy voice that buried years of shit beneath it. Seeing as they were the only existing organization with access to time travel, it had become a sort of unwritten rule that the Keeper be at least sixty years of age when they assumed their role—Chester had to have been at least ninety at this particular moment in time. Surely giving the power to anyone younger was an irresponsible move. Only experience and wisdom were allowed for such a title.

  “Thank you,” Chris said, a slow drip of adrenaline finding its way into his veins. His fingertips throbbed with excitement as he picked up his own coffee mug. He hadn’t ever thought about the position of Keeper, knowing it wouldn’t even be realistic for another two decades. But here he was, rubbing elbows with Chester, after being picked out for a brief tour around the country. “I don’t know what to say. I feel very passionate about our abilities and what we can do with them. We can have such a major influence on the world.”

  Chester nodded, intensely gazing across the table at Chris with his heavy, brown eyes. “You know how to work a crowd, that’s for sure. But I want to learn more about you, Chris. Relating to the people is honestly a minor aspect of this role. You’ll be involved with high-level decision-making on a daily basis. Can you actually turn your words into action?”

  “I absolutely can. I haven’t come this far in life to be nothing but a cheap politician making empty promises. I believe in every word that comes out of my mouth. I’m honest to a fault, and don’t give a damn what anyone thinks of me. To me, those are great qualities in a leader.”

  “Indeed they are. Tell me, if you were to become Keeper, what would you do on your first day?”

  Chris nodded as if he expected this question. He had actually imagined this scenario numerous times since he received the initial letter in the mail stating Chester’s interest in him. “The first thing I would do—that needs to be done—is set some ground rules for recruitment. We can’t keep relying on ourselves to recruit our families and friends—there’s no true growth that way because everyone more or less thinks the same way. We need to set the bar higher, find people who are smart and capable of change. Quite frankly, we should be looking to recruit people who would be natural fits into positions of power within the Revolution. Imagine a group full of potential Keepers. Obviously not everyone can become that, but you’re only as good as the people you surround yourself with.”

  Chester nodded, clearly pleased with this response. “Are you suggesting implementing more leadership positions? The Keeper has always been a solo type of role, held in check by no one. Above the law, if you will.”

  “I wouldn’t say leadership positions exactly, but we will need some help. If we can recruit at the rate I’m envisioning, it will be impossible for one man to overlook the entire organization. We’ll need to break into regions or chapters, and have a smaller leadership look over those. More like delegating the work, since I—the Keeper—can’t be everywhere at once.”

  Chester nodded again and rubbed a finger around the rim of his mug. “Right now we have three candidates: yourself and two others who are . . . closer to my age, we’ll say. You’re a major underdog in the eyes of the public, an unknown. But I know the work you’ve done, the sacrifices you’ve made . . .” He trailed off and left Chris waiting on the edge of his seat.

  “What are you getting at, sir?” Chris asked in his most patient voice.

  “This is a difficult ship to change course. As open-minded as you’d think time travelers would be, they’re not. These people are so set in their ways. What I’m getting to is that you would be a highly controversial choice. You’d be the youngest Keeper ever to assume control, by far. I think the youngest we’ve had was a fresh sixty-one-year-old on his first day in the role.”

  “With all due respect, sir, I think the age thing is complete bullshit.”

  Chester cracked a grin, surprising Chris, and waved a hand. “Go on.”

  “Age is irrelevant in this life. I can travel back in time two hundred years, live there for that long, come back, and still be forty-two. I can live for two hundred years and get credit for none of it when it comes to this. It’s absurd.”

  Chester nodded. “I couldn’t agree more. But this is one of those things where people are set in their ways. You’d have to come out and show this experience. How many years have you lived since joining?”

  Chris shrugged. “I can’t even say. My first year with the Revolution was wild. I went on a mission every two days, many of them were five year trips or longer. If I had to guess, probably somewhere close to 1,000 years with all the missions I’ve done.”

  Chester’s eyebrows shot up to his receding hairline. “Impressive. And my point exactly. That’s probably more experience than some of the past Keepers.”

  “What can I do to give myself a real shot?” Chris asked, scooting back in his seat.

  Chester pursed his lips and stared at his mug while he thought. “My friend, you do have a real shot. I just want to get more of a feel for how you’ll handle the . . . adversity of being the youngest Keeper.”

  “Surely there will be some members who support the change. Let’s make them my unofficial bodyguards.”

  “Of course there will be. But will they want to do something like that? That’s the real question.”

  “I take care of those who take care of me. Like I said, I’m a man of my word.”

  “What if I told you it all works out?”

  Chris furrowed his brows as he stared at the Revolution’s leader. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve already taken the liberty of taking a peek. I traveled to the year 1990 and spent a day there—the future honestly bores me and any longer would be torture. But, I did find a local hangout of Revolters, and it was quite the scene.”

  “How so?” Chris returned to the edge of the chair.

  “Well, for starters, you’re still the Keeper at that time. The Revolution’s membership was almost to two million, according the gentleman I spoke with. And the people absolutely adore you.”

  Chris couldn’t help but smile at these words. Receiving praise for a job he didn’t even have yet? Only in the Revolution.

  “Now,” Chester continued. “It wasn’t all ‘far out’, as kids today like to say. It appears there is some resistance in the future—a whole group of people who hate you and want you removed from power.”

  “Removed? That’s never been done before.”


  “I know. I tried to prod for more information, but no one could give me a concrete answer as to why these people were so pissed. It almost seemed petty from what I could gather. Perhaps you just being in power for so long made people sick of you, I don’t know. It didn’t sound too serious.”

  “I suppose I can worry about that when the time comes. Probably just need to find common ground with the newer generations of time travelers. Perhaps I can spend some time in the future, just to get acquainted. I understand why no one likes traveling forward, but it really doesn’t bother me.”

  “Well, that would be another first,” Chester said with a chuckle.

  Chris returned a polite grin as he watched Chester finish the rest of his coffee.

  “When I came into my role,” Chester said. “I wanted to be sure I left a mark when the time came to hand over the power. I think choosing you would be the ultimate legacy. I haven’t done much but keep us a well-functioning group of people who love to travel to the past and write the history books. And that’s fine. I can leave this role right now and I’d go down in history with no negative marks next to my name.”

  “And there’s nothing wrong with that. You’ve done a great job.”

  “Nothing wrong at all. But isn’t it boring? I’ll just be another name on a long list of Keepers who did nothing of significance. Or I can be the one who took a gamble on a young man who wanted to change the world for the better.”

  “And if I fail, what would that mean for you?”

  Chester shrugged. “I don’t know, and quite frankly, I don’t care. But let’s be honest, if you’re still running the group well in 1990 like I witnessed, that’s far from a failure, wouldn’t you say?”

  “That’s true.” Chris couldn’t contain his excitement. His leg bounced out of control below the table, and he had to place a hand on his knee to make it stop. When he woke up this morning he thought he’d deliver a speech for pleasantries and nothing more. Surely Chester had wanted cheap entertainment.

  But the day flipped after his speech. He didn’t know how Chester was leaning before the speech, but it was now clear that he wanted Chris to take control of the Revolution and guide it into a new era.

  He had put in tireless work since sacrificing his own wife for a chance at a better life. Sure, his daughter was now in college and wanted nothing to do with him, but she’d come around some day. Especially now that her father was about to become the most powerful person in North America.

  “I can’t formally make an announcement on my decision until it’s addressed to the public,” Chester said. “I’m planning that final speech in two days back in Austin. Let’s just say you need to make sure you’re there, okay?”

  Chris grinned, and had to make a conscious effort to not leap out of his seat and start jumping around the diner like an exuberant child. “Yes, sir, I’ll be there.”

  They finished their dinner with further discussion about Chris’s plans for the future. Chris would return home that night unable to sleep, the weight of the world settling onto his soul as his destiny loomed.

  23

  Chapter 23

  Chris caught the first flight in the morning to Austin and spent the day on Sixth Street, enjoying live music while he dined and drank the day away. The next day was the scheduled event where Chester would announce his selection for the next Keeper of Time, and Chris couldn’t contain his anticipation. He wanted to climb to the rooftops and scream to the world.

  While it was the peak of his life as a Revolter, the upcoming announcement also made him feel lonely. He wanted his little girl by his side, cheering him on as he elevated his career to its highest potential. She was a legacy Revolter, had been since the day Chris joined and recruited her by default. He didn’t know how much she kept up with the happenings of the organization, but hoped she’d hear the news and come back into his life.

  He knew she was safe at her college in California, but his heart still ached whenever he thought of her, which was quite often. He had done this for her sake, as well. In their prior life, they were going nowhere fast, stuck in the rut of lower-class society with no hope for the future. It had pained Chris to come home from a long day of work, his body aching, his mind exhausted, knowing that no matter how hard he worked at his factory job, it would never be enough to provide his little girl with a brighter future.

  If they had stayed the course, would she still be at Stanford today? Maybe she could have earned a scholarship, but not likely. She was in elementary school when Chris killed her mother, an event she didn’t quite understand until she was a teenager and asked questions every day.

  “I didn’t murder your mother,” Chris explained to her one night. “Murder is when you want to remove someone from existence because you hate them. I didn’t hate your mother. In fact, I still love her. What I did was called a sacrifice. I exchanged her for this new life that we have.”

  She always nodded and wandered off after Chris explained this, and continued doing so until she wandered right off to college and never phoned home. Chris knew their relationship would never fully mend. She had good reason to hate him, but watching her flourish in life and not have to struggle the way he did made it worth it. And things would only become greater once he became the Keeper.

  Not a day passed where Chris didn’t think of that fateful morning when his wife tumbled down the hill like a boulder. He had lived in constant paranoia for the following month, worried someone would find her body and spark an investigation that led back to him. He had momentary flashes of an angry judge sentencing him to life in prison, or worse. He imagined those long days in a prison cell, staring at the walls and waiting for death to free him.

  Today, he tried to keep his focus on what lay ahead, but ran into plenty of difficulties since he was in a college town and continually saw girls that reminded him of his daughter.

  After wasting the day, Chris tumbled back to his hotel and cried himself to sleep.

  * * *

  The event was scheduled for noon, leaving Chris the morning to laze around and fight off the minor hangover that throbbed in his head. He caught himself nervously pacing around the hotel room, chain-smoking without a care in the world. Nerves rattled his arms and chattered his teeth at random moments. The time was coming where he’d have to lean on his ten years of experience as a Revolter, and guide his fellow people into the future. The idea of still running things in 1990 was both comforting and overwhelming. This was his life now, the ultimate goal that had been achieved through years of busting his ass. All the missions, late night meetings, and strategy sessions led him to this moment.

  He would’ve still been happy if this had never happened, continuing the bustle of life as a time traveler, seeing the world and living history one mission at a time. What did ‘Keeper of Time’ really mean? With no one to report to, couldn’t he still do as he pleased? The organization was already self-governed for the most part, so how much work did he really have to do as Keeper?

  When eleven o’clock struck, he raced out of the hotel and to the restaurant on Sixth Street that Chester had rented out for a private event. He liked to offer these business owners so much money that they kept their staff out and let his own people handle matters for the day. He paid for the privacy, as that was all that mattered. They didn’t go to these places to actually eat lunch and order rounds of beers; they needed a meeting place and it came down to where could host the number of expected guests.

  For this grand announcement they expected a crowd of at least 1,000 people, with camera crews on site to film the speech and take home to their local meetings. Since they hadn’t dabbled much in the future yet, the Revolution still lacked knowledge on hosting their own private broadcasts.

  The venue chosen was Rolling Smoke BBQ, the biggest restaurant downtown, with a dining capacity of 500. They had moved all tables aside, making it a standing-room-only event where Chester would speak from the back of the restaurant to the jam-packed crowd.

 
Chris was welcomed into the restaurant with warm smiles and handshakes as he made his way to Chester, who was waiting with a microphone. The space was primarily filled with the elite members of the Revolution, the ones who could drop what they were doing and fly across the country. Chris had chosen to wear an all-black suit to the event, a choice that would stick with him for the rest of eternity.

  Everyone else, though, sported flashy jewelry, poignant cologne, and the finest of suits. Not a single woman was present in the room, a fact that didn’t change until Chris later assumed power.

  The chatter of hundreds of people in a tight space made it sound like everyone was yelling at each other. Chester employed a fellow Revolter to man the bar. Glasses clinked while people loaded up on the open tab. This was a celebration, after all, a passing of the torch that only happened every generation. Little did any of those in the audience know that they wouldn’t get the chance to celebrate this particular occasion again for a very long time.

  Chester remained stuck in a conversation with faces Chris recognized, but couldn’t put a thumb on their names. His two fellow candidates were chatting with each other a few feet behind them, lost in the background of the busy area. Chester locked eyes with Chris and grinned, waving him over.

  “Hello, sir!” he said. “Glad to see you here. Are you ready for the big day?”

  Chris stuck out a firm hand to shake. “Absolutely. I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”

  “That’s what I like to hear. Have you met Randall Stone?” Chester asked, gesturing to the man he had been speaking with.

  “Not yet. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”