Time Trap

by Danele J Rotharmel

  “Not yet,” he replied. “Let’s go to Spider’s parlor and see if we can find Phoebe’s prison.”

  Laura raised her head from his chest. “Do you think he lied about killing her?” Her voice glowed with hope. “Do you think she’s alive?”

  “No,” he said gently. “We would’ve heard something by now—a movement—a cry—something. I’m sure she’s dead, but we need to make sure.”

  “Can you make it up the steps?”

  “If you took down Spider—a man almost twice your size—I can surely drag myself up a few steps.”

  Feeling dubious about the wisdom of her actions, Laura helped Peter climb the winding staircase. When they reached Spider’s parlor, broken mirrors crunched beneath their feet. She knew Spider had set another trap, so she carefully inspected every floorboard before she stepped on it.

  “Do you want to peek in our cell?” she asked, looking at the gaping hole in the floor.

  She felt Peter shudder. “No,” he replied. “I’ve seen enough of it.”

  At the back of the parlor, a black curtain was moving in a ghostly breeze. Pushing it aside, Laura helped Peter down a hall. The lantern gleamed in the blackness. Weird shadows lurked on the walls. Every few feet, she had to push another curtain aside.

  “He kept Phoebe in utter darkness,” she said mournfully. “Light couldn’t have penetrated these curtains. And without the sound of an opening door, his approach would have been silent. She must have been terrified.”

  Peter didn’t reply—his silence was telling. Laura glanced at him. His jaw was set, and he looked sick. She knew he was trying to control his emotions.

  Pushing aside the final curtain, Laura entered Phoebe’s cell. The foul smell almost knocked her over. Looking in horror at the bloodstained shackles on the floor, she whimpered. “I can’t stand the thought of Phoebe dying alone in this awful room.”

  “Shh,” Peter whispered. His voice was choked with tears. His tone was tortured.

  Laura buried her head against his shoulder. She knew he felt responsible for Phoebe’s death. So did she. She wanted to comfort him but couldn’t find the right words. She doubted there were any. They had tried to help Phoebe, but they had failed. No words could change that fact.

  By lantern light, she could see an object gleaming in the corner. “What’s that?” she asked, brushing tears from her cheeks.

  “I’m not sure,” he replied, starting across the floor.

  Grabbing his shirt, she pulled him back to her side. “Stay here! I’m steadier on my feet.”

  Before he could object, she walked across the floor, testing each step. Bending over, she picked up a yellow thermos. Poppa was written on the bottom. Her eyes began to sparkle.

  Retracing her steps, she flourished the thermos. “Do you know what this means?”

  Peter threw back his head and laughed. “Poppa’s been here and rescued Phoebe!”

  A car door slammed.

  Jumping convulsively, Laura looked at Peter in horror. Outside, they heard a motor revving. They went back to the parlor as quickly as they could. Twitching a curtain aside, Laura looked down at the yard. A pickup with dark-tinted windows barreled past the building and rammed through the fence. Dust flew up in a cloud as the truck hit the factory’s driveway and careened toward the road.

  “It can’t be!” she cried. “We locked him up!”

  Taking the lantern, Peter stumbled to the hole in the floor. Peering into their old prison, he groaned. “There’s no sign of him.”

  “Could he be curled in a corner?” Laura asked, kneeling beside him.

  Peter shook his head and motioned with the lantern. “The door’s propped open.”

  “How did he get out?” she wailed, still scanning the corners.

  “We should’ve searched him,” Peter said ruefully. “He must have had the key to the door.”

  Fear shivered down Laura’s spine. “Peter”—she gasped—“he has the code.”

  “I know,” he replied, getting shakily to his feet. “But even if he uses his cartridge to get home, he can’t steal the Wave Trapper. We have the key to the locked box.”

  Laura’s heart sank all the way to her toes. Frantically, she began searching her pockets.

  “What wrong?” Peter asked.

  “I put the keys down when I was doctoring your wrists.” She moaned. “I was so concerned about you that I forgot about them. How could I leave them behind? How could I be so stupid?”

  Spinning around, Peter flashed the light down the hole. Laura could see that the keys were gone.

  “Drake has the code and the key,” she said in a horrified voice. “And he’s planning on killing the Ablemans. We’ve got to stop him!”

  * * *

  Alex opened the door to Phoebe’s room. She was curled up in her chair like a cute little waif, and as he entered, a smile blossomed across her face. His heart flipped. His arms had felt strangely empty in the hall, and as he picked her up, he realized just how much he had missed holding her. It was almost as if she were becoming part of who he was.

  “Did you have a good talk with your father?” she asked.

  He nodded. “In a little while, he’s gonna bring Mom to see me. She wants a hug.”

  Phoebe’s eyes twinkled. “That’s not surprising. You’re a good hugger.”

  Tightening his arms around her, he rubbed his cheek against her hair. “When you’re stronger, I’ll introduce you to them. You’ll like my parents, Phoebe, and they’ll like you.”

  Phoebe nestled her head on his chest. “They must be good people to raise a son like you.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

  The water felt like liquid silk against Zeke’s skin. Floating on his back, he watched as Nicole swam over to the waterfall and stood beneath its refreshing spray.

  “I’ve always wanted to play in a waterfall.” She laughed, splashing water his way. “Thanks for bringing me.”

  Climbing onto a slippery boulder, Zeke gave a wobbly bow. “Glad to be of service, ma’am.”

  Laughing, Nicole gave him a cheeky wave.

  He smiled. He was enjoying the sight of Nicole under the waterfall more than he’d care to admit. If she ever decided to give up painting, she could easily embark on a career as a swimsuit model. Realizing that he was enjoying the sight a bit more than was proper, he dove off the rock and began swimming laps. Before long, Nicole joined him.

  Zeke had a marvelous time swimming races and having water fights with his new girlfriend. Eventually, when their toes were pruney and they were so exhausted from laughing that they could hardly breathe, he helped her out of the pool. Together, they stretched out by the water’s edge to dry in the sunshine.

  Feeling at peace, he watched clouds scuttling through the sky. It was a lovely sight, but he knew one that was even prettier. Cautiously, he began studying Nicole out of the corner of his eye. She was a stunning woman, and her bikini packed a wallop. He wondered if her swimming attire was normally so spectacular or if she’d picked out the suit with him in mind.

  “Care to take a picture?” She laughed, interrupting his thoughts.

  Zeke jumped. “I’m s-sorry,” he stuttered. “Was I staring?”

  She nodded. “But I don’t mind. Some guys make my skin crawl when they look at me, but you don’t. In fact, I rather like it. Besides”—she giggled—“I can hardly object when I’ve spent so much time ogling you.”

  Zeke grinned. “I’m not exactly eye candy, so that’s nice of you to admit.”

  “I’m a nice type of gal.” She smiled.

  “You sure are.” His voice lowered to a murmur. “And you’re absolutely gorgeous.”

  She rose up on her elbows. “Glad you noticed. You’re not too bad yourself.”

  “Even my nose?”

  “I’m getting used to it.”

  Zeke watched as she looked at the spectacular scenery. “This is a beautiful place,” she said. “It’s perfect for swimming. I’m glad you told me to wear my suit.”
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  He chuckled and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked.

  He felt himself blush. “Normally, when I’m here, I skinny dip.”

  Her musical laughter filled the air. “I never took you for the risqué type.”

  “I’m really not,” he admitted. “But this place is completely private, and I happen to get hot chopping wood.”

  “Even with your shirt off?”

  “Even then.” He laughed. “The water feels great after a hard day of work.”

  “I still can’t believe you skinny dip.”

  “Actually, the first time I did was out of necessity. I slipped in some mud and was too dirty to get in my car. I enjoyed the swim so much that skinny dipping just became a habit.” He smiled at her. “I knew the water would feel great after our hard work, but I also knew we needed suits. I can’t take you skinny dipping yet.”

  “Yet?” She cocked an eyebrow.

  “After we’re married, I plan on taking you skinny dipping in the moonlight. We’ll swim in the silver trail of the moon and watch the stars.”

  Nicole sputtered and blushed. “Married?” Her voice was stern. “You’re taking a lot on yourself seeing we’re only on our second date.”

  “I’m a farseeing man. I know where this relationship is headed, and so do you.”

  Nicole sat up and hugged her legs to her chest. Laying her cheek on her knees, she hesitated. He knew she was about to ask a serious question. He waited for it.

  “Zeke,” she said softly, “why do you like me?”

  He sat up across from her and unconsciously mimicked her pose, knees to chest and chin on knees. Looking into her eyes, he replied, “I like you because of who you are.”

  She fixed him with a steady gaze. “We haven’t known each other long enough for you to know who I am.”

  “That’s debatable.”

  “Are you just attracted to my looks and success?” Her voice was quiet. “I find that most men are.”

  “I’m not most men,” he replied.

  “That still doesn’t explain your interest in me.”

  “Do you need a reason?”

  She made an impatient movement. “We just met, and you keep talking about marriage. You can’t toss out statements like that without some sort of explanation.”

  Knowing the time had come for complete honesty, Zeke took a deep breath. “I don’t think you understand what my job at TEMCO entails. You know I’m a computer tech and that I’m an analyst, but you don’t know what I analyze.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes, it does,” he said slowly. “I analyze time itself. The amount of data, and the specificity of the details I glean, depend only on how in-depth I choose to make the parameters of my search. As long as my research doesn’t bump into a temporal black hole, I can conduct an inquiry in which there are no locked doors, no dark corners, and no hidden secrets.”

  He heard her breath catch. “When we were in Dr. Moosly’s office, you said you had conducted a GAP search on me. What type of search was it?”

  “Nicole, when you came to the lab that day, TEMCO was on high alert. One of our surfers had been murdered, another kidnapped, and two more were in danger. We were facing an enemy who seemed to have knowledge of the inner workings of TEMCO. When you asked to see Nicki—a girl only a few people knew we’d brought into the future—red flags fell all around you.” He cleared his throat. “I ran the most thorough search on you that I could conduct.”

  “What exactly does that mean?”

  “It means that regardless of what you think—I do know you. I know all about you.” He looked at her intently. “I know that rather than your first word being ‘momma’ or ‘daddy,’ it was ‘pretty.’ You said ‘pretty’ when you looked at a sunset.”

  Nicole blinked rapidly.

  He went on. “I know you rescued birds from the neighbor’s cat. I know you got spanked for jumping on your bed when you were five. I know you worked hard to make your mother a necklace out of macaroni, and when she said it was messy, you hid in a closet and cried.”

  His eyes trapped hers. “I know that you were so determined to learn how to ride a bicycle that even after seventeen consecutive spills, you got on that bike and rode it all the way around the block. I know you used to be so shy that you could hardly speak without stuttering, but you made yourself talk to a new person every day until you conquered your fear.”

  “You know me,” she said with dawning awe.

  “Yes, I do.” He took a deep breath. “And as I looked into your life, I realized that in many ways, our stories mirror one another.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Zeke picked her hand up gently and turned it over—his thumb traced a faded scar on her wrist. “I know what the years of being ignored by your parents did to you. I know you got this the first time you tried to kill yourself.”

  Nicole gasped and pulled her hand away. “No one knows about that. No one!”

  “It happened, Nicole. It was recorded in a timewave. I analyze timewaves.” His eyes captured hers with understanding and sympathy. “I know you were about to try again when TEMCO sent you counselors.”

  “I always wondered why they came when they did,” she murmured.

  “They came because the next attempt you were planning would have ended your life. They came when they needed to. They always do.” Biting his lip, he said quietly, “They came when I needed them too.”

  Nicole’s eyes flew to his face. He took her scarred hand and put it to his temple, allowing her to feel the jagged ripple in the skin beneath his hair.

  “Oh, Zeke,” she whispered brokenly, “what gave you that?”

  “A bullet.”

  “Did you try to kill yourself?”

  “Not then. Later.” He shuddered. “The bullet that left that scar came from my father’s gun. When I was thirteen, I went to a friend’s house…” His voice caught, but he continued, “When I came home, I was just in time to see my father shoot my mother. Then my father turned his gun on my sister. I tried to stop him, but I couldn’t.” Zeke’s voice shook. “I watched my mother and sister die before my eyes. Then my father turned his gun on me. When I fell, he stood over me and shot himself. I was the only member of my family to survive.”

  Nicole lowered her hand from his scar and cupped his cheek. He could feel the sympathy in her touch. Resting his head against her hand, he said, “The doctors said it was a quirk of fate that I survived. The bullet glanced off my skull, and the only real damage was to my optic nerves—I lost some of my sight. It could’ve been worse. The attack could’ve blinded me. It could’ve killed me. People said I was lucky, but I didn’t feel lucky. I kept having flashbacks, and I became deeply depressed. I found a gun and went to the woods, planning to finish what my father had started. I was about to end my life when TEMCO sent me a counselor. His name was Marc Kerry. He introduced me to Christ. That fact alone changed everything.” He sighed. “I survived, but my childhood wasn’t easy.”

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “So very sorry.”

  Zeke put his hand over hers. “I know the despair you felt while you were growing up—I felt despair too. But you conquered it—and so did I. We both survived, and we took our pain and incorporated it into our work. I master my demons by helping to change the past. You master yours each time you pick up a brush.” His eyes were gentle. “Your story and your ultimate victory over your circumstances echo in your paintings. When I look at your work, I can see the brushstrokes reflecting your journey back to happiness.”

  Her eyes became luminous. “Not many people catch that.”

  “The ability you have to illustrate pain being overcome is what makes your paintings so special. They show that darkness is always conquered by light, and that after every storm, peace comes. I think the painting that expressed it best was Peace Prevails. Each part of your story was represented in that painting. When I looked at it, I saw you.”

  Nic
ole stared down at her beach towel. “My feelings were pretty raw when I painted that picture. My mother was visiting me for the first time in years. I was so excited to see her, but then I found out she only came to borrow money. When I gave her the cash, she went away.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right,” she said, raising her eyes. “I learned a long time ago that I wasn’t the most important person in my parents’ lives.”

  Zeke’s gaze captured hers. “You’ve become the most important person in mine.”

  “You actually mean that, don’t you?” she whispered.

  He nodded.

  Nicole took a shivering breath. “I painted my pain, but how did you deal with yours?”

  “I studied as hard as I could,” he replied. “My dream was to become part of TEMCO when I grew up. After I joined the program, I worked as a time counselor for many years.”

  She smiled. “You went backward through time and helped Andy, didn’t you? I can’t believe you counseled the Vice President.”

  “He wasn’t the Vice President then,” Zeke said. “He was just a frightened teenager with his back against the wall.”

  “And when he grew up, and you met as men, you became friends?”

  “Best of friends.”

  “How did you get into analysis?” she asked.

  “When Dan and Gil started working cases together, there was an administrative gap left in the office. Peter asked if I’d fill it. I wasn’t sure that I’d enjoy office work, but after a week on the job, I realized how important it was. The more information I can give our counselors, the better chance they have of succeeding. Analysis has become a passion.”

  “And you analyzed me?” she asked softly, trapping his eyes with her own.

  Zeke realized they were at a turning point. “Yes,” he replied, barely breathing.

  “And you know me for who I really am?” Her voice trembled. He could see her heartbeat fluttering in her throat.

  “Yes,” he replied. “I know all about you.”