Wealth of Time Series Boxset

by Andre Gonzalez

  “When you arrived in 1919, you were being followed from the moment you made it downtown. We followed the Road Runners who were trailing you. This war has progressed to a point where they are becoming a viable threat. They’ve been poaching people I’ve given the Juice to by promising a lavish life. A life safe and free from me, like I’m some sort of monster. What these people don’t realize is that they can get their dream lives all on their own. How much money did you have waiting in your bank account when you arrived home after your journey to 1996?”

  “Millions.”

  “Exactly. That’s because you’re smart and a forward thinker. The Road Runners try to plant doubt about me and the success people can find while traveling through time, then they insert themselves as the only solution. It’s gross, but I suppose all is fair in love and war, right?”

  Martin nodded, continually fighting off the urge to think about his encounter with the Road Runners. “That is true.”

  Chris smiled as he crossed the room toward the window, and gazed into the landscape where Terry Brooks had just been shot dead like an elk in the woods. “How are you liking the place so far?”

  Chris had his back to Martin, and this caused Martin to release the tension in his shoulders that he hadn’t realized existed. “My room is nice, very modern, but that’s all I’ve seen. Am I allowed into the rest of the house?” He asked this like a curious child.

  Chris chuckled before turning back around to face Martin. “Of course. This can be your home for as long as you’d like, so get yourself acclimated. You’re by no means obliged to stay here, but keep in mind the Road Runners are looking for you, so it’s not exactly safe out there at the moment. In here, you’ll have the highest level of security. No one gets into this house unless I say so.”

  “I thought you can’t die by traditional means. You don’t even eat food, right? So why have so much security?”

  Chris locked eyes with Martin and sent chills up his spine. “The security isn’t for me, old friend. I’ll be just fine. It’s for the secrets buried in the walls of the house. If the Road Runners were ever to get ahold of the information that lies within this house, the war would be over in ten minutes.”

  These words hung in the air as Martin tried to process them. “The secrets of time?”

  Chris nodded. “Among other things, yes. Now, I don’t want you to get hung up on this. Everything is fine and safe in this house, including you. Feel free to wander around, it’s really just the main floor. This floor is all bedrooms, and the basement is locked and off limits.”

  “What about outside? I can’t stay cooped up in the house all day.”

  “Impressive, Martin. You wouldn’t have said that a few months ago when you spent every day drunk in your apartment with no idea what time it was.”

  “Even then I would go out to my balcony for some air,” Martin responded with obvious sass in his voice.

  “You can go wherever you want, Marty. You’re not a prisoner here. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t kidnapped or killed. You’re encouraged to stay for your own safety, but you can do as you please. Do you have any of your Juice with you?”

  It was rare when Chris called him Marty, but he hated it the same every time. That was a nickname from his mother and for use by close family and friends only.

  “I do,” he said, tapping the small flask in his back pocket.

  “All I ask is that if you decide to leave, just let me know when and where you’re going. I can offer you protection, because the Road Runners will certainly be out in full force. They act like savage animals when it comes to their recruiting.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

  Chris’s sudden concern for him made Martin uneasy. Aside from barging in to the Oxford Hotel’s basement to help him escape the Road Runners, when had he ever shown any type of concern for Martin?

  “I’ll leave you to it,” Chris said. “Let me know if there’s anything at all you need.”

  “Will do. Have a good night.”

  Chris crossed the room and left, closing the door gently behind him.

  Martin sat on his bed and had an instant urge to plan a way off the property. Chris clearly had a lax approach for keeping him in the house, and he needed to take advantage of that before anything changed.

  “Do I move tonight?” he whispered to himself. He grabbed the remote off the nightstand and turned on the TV, letting it play as background noise so he could continue to speak to himself.

  “There’s something going on that no one is telling me,” he continued. “Why would Chris want to keep me safe? He just offered me everything he said the Road Runners offer to lure people: a lavish life and protection.”

  Martin’s leg bounced wildly on the bed and he focused to make it stop. “Why am I nervous? He essentially invited me to leave. Maybe he’s counting on me loving the mansion. I can’t afford to explore it and fall into a trap of comfort. I need to move tonight.”

  A quick pep talk to himself was all it took for him to decide he would flee the mansion at night. He had no idea what kind of surveillance was on the property, but moving in the darkness was always an advantage. If any of the goons followed him, he’d lose them in the woods. Since Chris clearly wanted to keep him alive, he dismissed the possibility of being shot. If they wanted him dead, it would be done by now.

  Martin jumped off the bed and rummaged through the closet. There was one coat, a couple pairs of sweatpants, and three shirts. They all looked slightly small for him, but would manage as he needed all the layers possible for his escape in the North Pole.

  “I need to move fast into the woods. The trees will give cover so I can run to the main road.” His senses had been heightened during the drive over as he kept track of every move the van made.

  His stomach growled when he checked the clock that read 4:03, meaning it was really six o’clock on his body’s time from Denver.

  “Don’t go into that kitchen. Everything in this house is designed to trap you into staying.” Martin kept whispering to himself, pacing around the room. Once the adrenaline kicked in, he’d forget all about his hunger.

  His curiosity throbbed, begging to see the rest of this luxurious mansion that made his new house look like a shack. He pulled open the door and stuck his head into the hallway.

  The long hallway stretched into the distance, but no one was visible. All of the doors were closed, much like a hotel, and he realized that was exactly what this hideout was designed to feel like: half hotel, half home, with the kitchen and who knows what else on the main floor.

  “Act casual, pretend you’re exploring the house and see how far you can get without being seen.”

  He stepped into the hallway, slight creaking beneath his feet from the hardwood floor, and glided the door shut with steady hands.

  “Just act normal.”

  Instead of tiptoeing down the hall like he wanted, he broke into his usual stride and walked toward the stairs. When he reached the steps that led to the main floor, he noticed an open door at the end of the hallway, light spilling out in a yellow sheet.

  The incoherent mumble of voices came from the open door, and Martin took the softest steps he could manage toward the voices. He stopped within ten feet of the room as he could hear the voices clearly. One belonged to Chris, the other to a man he didn’t recognize.

  “Did you dispose of the body?” Chris asked.

  “Yes, we moved it into the woods. Will let the animals have some easy dinner.”

  Both men chuckled. They had to be talking about the person who he just watched get shot. Would Martin’s fate end the same way if he tried?

  After the laughter faded, Martin heard the soft clink ice made in a glass when you took a drink.

  “So what’s the word on Briar?” the unidentified man asked.

  Martin’s adrenaline exploded at the mention of his name.

  “I think he’s gonna stay. He had just woken up, but I didn’t get any indication that he pla
nned to leave. Good ol’ Terry told me that Briar is warm.”

  “Warm? Really?” the man responded with an elevated pitch in his voice.

  “Oh yeah, we’ve struck gold with him. Such a funny world we live in, don’t you think? I had only chosen him in the first place because I could smell his depression when he walked into my store. Smelled so strong and sweet I could practically taste it. It was like when the waiter walks by you with someone else’s sizzling plate of fajitas; I drooled.”

  They chuckled again, followed by another swig of drinks.

  “I even did my due diligence and took a look into the future before I approached him. He was going to die in two years anyway, a messy suicide by parking his car on the train tracks. It was perfect. I never would have bet that he’d come this far and reform his life the way he has. Makes his soul that much juicier when the time comes. But, it sounds like he’s on our side. Sonya made her attempt and failed. They’ll never have a chance now. I didn’t think much of it at first when we saved him—I was just sick of losing people—but after Terry told me this interesting tidbit, it appears the cards have fallen perfectly into place. I’ll give him a few days to get acclimated, don’t want to seem pushy. He’s not as dumb as he looks. Then I’ll ask him about using his special gift to help us end this war once and for all. And if he refuses, then he’ll go to the basement until he changes his mind.”

  The men roared laughter one final time as Martin turned and shuffled down the hallway. “I’m getting the fuck out of here tonight,” he whispered as he approached his room.

  He returned to his room and slammed the door shut in a panic, collapsing to the ground, his heart trying to burst through his rib cage. He gasped for air as the adrenaline flowed through his veins.

  His eavesdropping just confirmed three things: there was definitely something bigger at play that involved him, the basement was very, very bad, and he would be leaving the mansion as soon as the sun disappeared.

  79

  Chapter 24

  Martin forgot that the daylight situation was all fucked up in Alaska. He was also fortunate. Had he arrived two months earlier, they would’ve still been in their cycle of 24-hour sunlight. They were still a couple of months from around the clock darkness, so he had to settle for the sunset that arrived shortly after 8 P.M.

  He wanted to kill time like a normal person, pacing circles, flipping through the TV channels, reading books that were tucked away in the nightstand drawers. He even spent a good half hour gazing out the window, trying to plot his exact path when he escaped the house.

  None of it mattered.

  A constant paranoia tickled his every thought, waiting for Chris to barge into the room with his guards to take him down to the basement. The basement had to be either a prison or a slave ring, he decided, and he had no plans on finding out which it was.

  The adrenaline from his eavesdropping had given way to a twisting knot of stress in his gut. Every instinct in his body told him that if he didn’t leave tonight, he never would.

  When eight o’clock finally rolled around, the sun disappeared in the horizon, leaving an orange glow to collide with the swarming deep blue sky. Waiting for the sun to set reminded him of that fateful night when he had gone back to rescue Izzy. He had stared out the window in the same manner, contemplating what happened next. The old Martin would have had a panic attack and drank every drop of alcohol in sight. But enough adventure had made him numb to the sensation of the unknown. Minus the bubble guts, he was ready to take on the next mission.

  Martin slipped into the tight sweatpants and pulled the extra shirts over his current clothes. The jacket zipped up with no problem, despite him feeling that his body would burst through all the layers.

  “Are these clothes for children?” he asked, and let out a nervous giggle. Within fifteen minutes the orange glow outside had vanished, leaving a purple splash that would soon melt into complete darkness. “It’s time.”

  He checked himself in the mirror and found that he looked rather normal despite the three layers of clothing. Wearing the baggiest layer on the exterior made it rather simple to achieve. He certainly looked like he would be going out for an extended walk around town, but would tell anyone he might run into that he only wanted to explore the property.

  Martin took a deep inhale before crossing the room to exit. He left the light turned on, wanting to give the appearance that he was still in his room, and pulled open the door. The hallway remained empty.

  Does anyone here ever leave their room?

  He started down the hallway and took the stairs down to the main level. The mansion’s front door was the first thing to greet him. Voices carried from another room, presumably the kitchen from the sounds of silverware clashing with dishes. Laughter broke out, making Martin jump, but the voices carried on in their murmur of conversation.

  Don’t just stand there, get out of the house and run!

  Martin studied the door before stepping up to it. There were four dead bolts and two chain locks scattered around the doorframe.

  Clearly no one is supposed to get into this place.

  “Or out of it,” he whispered, and lunged for the door, twisting at the locks until the final one clicked. He grabbed the knob with a shaking hand and pulled open the door.

  A cold rush of air burst through while one of the men stood guard on the front porch, pacing back and forth with a rifle slung over his shoulder. The man, who stood equal in height with Martin, swiveled around on his heels and met Martin’s gaze.

  “Good evening,” Martin said, heart drumming wildly.

  The man nodded. He was bundled up in a puffy red jacket so that only his face was revealed. The tip of his nose matched the shade of the jacket, and he studied Martin with curious blue eyes.

  “Hello,” the man said, robotically.

  “I was hoping to do some hunting later this week, and wanted to look around the property. Don’t mind me.”

  Martin took a confident step off the porch and had started toward the woods before the man stopped him. “Wait.”

  Martin froze, convinced a bullet was coming his way. Please let it end quick. He turned back to the goon and was relieved to see the rifle still perched on his shoulder and not pointed at him.

  “The best spots for hunting are behind the house. You’re going toward the main road, there’s nothing there.”

  Martin almost burst into laughter. Not only did the guard not want to shoot him, he even gave him directions during his escape.

  “Oh, thank you,” Martin said, and started toward the back of the house, the frozen snow crunching beneath each confident step. “Just around this way?”

  The man nodded, and kept his gaze to the woods in the distance.

  “Thank you. Have a great night.”

  Once Martin rounded the corner of the house and confirmed the guard was no longer in sight, he broke into a sprint toward the woods on the backside of the house. It hadn’t felt cold until he started running, the falling temperatures biting at his bare face as his feet crunched the snow below. As long as he kept moving, the cold wouldn’t get the best of him. Lacking gloves, he stuffed his hands into the jacket pockets for relief.

  It only took him thirty seconds to arrive to the outer trees that housed the rest of the woods. Once the mansion was far enough, looking like a regular-sized house in the distance, he stopped and dropped to his knees, huffing and puffing, gasping for the cold air that felt like icicles filling his air pipe.

  “Oh my God,” he wheezed. “I’m too old for this shit.”

  After a couple minutes, he gathered himself and rose to his feet. The guard had confirmed the direction of the main road, and Martin started walking through the trees in that general direction. He had the cover of the trees, and no one from the mansion would be able to see him as he worked his way through the darkness.

  He debated taking a swig of the Juice to return to 2018 right now, but had no clue how different the world would be at that precise time in
Barrow, Alaska. He had to work with what he had and focus on getting out of the city. It would only be a matter of time until Chris realized he was missing, at which point he’d travel back a few minutes—or hours, hopefully—to track down Martin. He and his soldiers would be on his trail within a day, so he couldn’t afford to waste a moment.

  He had run a lot further than he thought. It took him five minutes to weave through the trees and get back into position on the front side of the house. The guard remained on the front porch, continuing the circular pacing in his best effort to stay warm. What a boring job. Who would ever find a hideout in the middle of nowhere?

  With the guard to his back, Martin continued into the woods at a brisk pace. Stumps, logs, and sticks attempted to trip him, so he focused on each step to avoid doing so.

  Doubt remained stuck on his mind like a bug on a windshield. What if the guard had led him into a trap? They surely couldn’t be too dumb if Chris had chosen them for protection. What if there was no world beyond the woods, and it was a ploy? Chris had mastered time travel, and creating an enclosed, fake world wouldn’t be too difficult considering the access he had to future technology. Chris wouldn’t agree to let him wander around the property if there really was a way out, would he?

  As Martin progressed through the woods, he kept his hands in front, anticipating an invisible force field that would surely bounce him back to the mansion where Chris would howl laughter. Then he’d be off to the basement.

  He continued for ten more minutes, the mansion completely out of sight, nothing but tall, skinny trees in every direction. The moonlight provided just enough of a glow for Martin to see the trees in front of him, but beyond that was pure blackness. He hadn’t realized how much light the mansion had provided when he first left, and now felt lost.

  Maniacal laughter echoed throughout the woods, carried by the soft breeze that brushed the tops of the trees.