Wealth of Time Series Boxset

by Andre Gonzalez

  Martin was back on his own. No one waiting for him. No Sonya. No Izzy. Judging by the distance to downtown, he was maybe a ten-minute drive west of town, putting him somewhere in or near the city of Lakewood.

  He remembered he was originally asleep in 2018, having bounced all around the world and throughout time. When he sipped his Juice to return to 2018, he would wake up in his bed in his brand new house where he and Sonya had lain next to each other to take what was supposed to be an adventure into the past.

  She was probably already gone. Or never left with him to begin with.

  Bed. Your bed. That does sound lovely.

  Martin sat on the concrete ground, a lone landing strip in the middle of an open field, and pulled the flask from his back pocket. One rule he had learned on this journey was to never let his Juice out of sight.

  He twisted off the cap, and held up the flask to toast the Road Runners’ jet.

  “Off we go,” he said, taking a small sip, and thinking about his present time in 2018.

  He lay on his back and stared at the stars, crickets chirping all around him as he dozed.

  * * *

  From his recollection, they had left 2018 shortly after lunch, but when he woke, it was five in the evening.

  I returned and stayed asleep. That’s how tired I am.

  His brain finally felt refreshed, however, and the sensation made him ready to tackle the world.

  Sonya was not in bed as he suspected, however, the outline of her body sunk into the comforter where she had lain.

  At least you know she was real, and that you haven’t truly lost your mind.

  “Lost my mind? No. Lost my life again? Yes.”

  Martin rolled off the bed and looked around his room as if it were a foreign place. Everything reeked of Sonya. She had decorated the house. From the stupid throw pillows, to the porcelain figurines that stood on the wall shelves. She had done it, not him. Martin would have a blank, empty room with a nightstand and bed if he had his way.

  How long until the Road Runners come knocking on the front door? Maybe another hour? How long until Chris shows up? That desperate lunatic.

  Even without knowing an exact timeline for the next day of his life, Martin sensed the urgency in his upcoming actions. He decided to do what should have been done in the first place when Chris made the initial proposal of time travel: ask his mom for advice.

  He had been too afraid of how she might judge him for bringing up such a bizarre topic, but he was well beyond that point now. He’d seen too much shit for anyone to even try arguing with him about his sanity. You can stare out the window to the world, but do you really know what’s happening behind each closed door?

  His mom might resist at first, but she had no proof. No grounds to call him crazy. And the best part is that she would still offer him advice whether or not she believed his story.

  “I only have a few more months to save her mind.” Martin needed to say this out loud to remind himself where he was and what the fuck he was doing. The Alzheimer’s still gnawed at his mom’s brain like ants on fallen crumbs. If the Road Runners expected him to join their team, they better damn well understand that saving her mind was his number one priority over anything else. Anyone else with an agenda for what he should do with his gift could go right ahead and fuck themselves.

  He studied himself in the mirror above his dresser. Dark bags hung below his bloodshot eyes. More gray hair had filled in since he last checked. Nothing like aging five years in ten minutes. Apparently, the reward of not aging in the past didn’t apply to the common side effects of stress. At this rate, he’d be sixty going on ninety if they thrust him into the middle of a war.

  Nothing lasts forever, especially your brown hair, his mother once told him shortly after Izzy’s disappearance brought his first gray hairs at the age of 32.

  Martin left the room, refusing to waste another second, and went downstairs to the main level where his mother stood in the kitchen, stirring something in a pot on the stove.

  She turned and smiled, the wrinkles on her face seeming to have multiplied over the past few days. She brushed her silver hair behind an ear and said, “Sleepy much?”

  “You could say that. What are you making?”

  “I was going to make some pasta, but we don’t have any. I could’ve sworn I saw some in the pantry the other day.”

  “Don’t worry about it, we can order some takeout.”

  Marilyn scoffed at this. “Restaurants can’t make dinner as good as me. Besides, there’ll be a day where you can’t enjoy my cooking anymore.”

  “Mom, you don’t have to say things like that.”

  She raised a hand. “It’s fine. I’ve prayed on this and accept my fate. I still have at least five years until things get horrible. I’ll be out of your way by then. You don’t have to care for me as this reaches its peak.”

  A tear rolled down Martin’s cheek. The last day had been emotional enough without his mother talking about her dementia plans.

  “Mom, that’s not happening. I need to talk to you about something important.”

  “Okay, what’s on your mind?”

  “I think we should sit down—this may take a while.”

  “Where’s Sonya?”

  “That’s part of this.”

  Her bony hands shot to her mouth as she shook her head. “Oh, Marty, please don’t tell me she left.”

  “It’s not what you think. Please. Let’s sit at the table.”

  Marilyn hobbled to the table where Martin had already pulled out a chair.

  “I think this will be best if you just let me talk. Don’t ask any questions until I’m done, or else we’ll be here for eight hours.”

  Marilyn obliged, and Martin began.

  He started from the beginning when they had first met Chris at the Wealth of Time store in Larkwood. He told her how he went back the next day to buy the ring she had sworn was her grandmother’s—a ring he never ended up taking due to the distraction that followed. From that point on, life had been nothing but adventure with Sonya, Izzy, Road Runners, and now the people known as Revolters. Martin explained every detail from the night Izzy was killed, all the way up to the last few hours when he had met Commander Strike.

  His mother nodded throughout the one way conversation, eyes bulging at some parts, mouth frowning at others. When Martin finished, she stared at him blankly, like Jesus Christ himself had just told her his entire life story.

  “Do you think I’m crazy?” Martin asked.

  Marilyn scratched her head and scrunched her face. “I don’t know. It’s one hell of a story, that’s for sure. You were never one for creative endeavors, so I don’t know what would compel you to make this all up. I suppose being dumped by a beautiful girl is a good excuse, but there are far too many details.”

  “Everything I said is true. Believe me, I know it’s absurd. There are still times where I don’t think it’s real. I can leave to a different time whenever I please, and that’s what I really wanted to talk to you about first. But I need to know that you actually believe this is all real.”

  “I’m not ready to call it real, but I’m even further from calling it fake.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  “Well then, what exactly is it that you want to discuss?”

  “Two things. First, I plan to travel into the future to get medicine for you—it exists.”

  “The cure for Alzheimer’s?”

  “Yes. I don’t know if it’s necessarily the cure, but it controls the symptoms at the very least. You won’t have to forget your own name.”

  “Impossible.”

  “None of this is possible, but it is. And the best part is I can go into the future to find your medicine and be back here in the next ten minutes, even if I have to spend 20 years in the future looking for it. It doesn’t change what happens here in our current time.”

  Martin leaned back and studied his mother. She looked at the kitchen table as if expecting it to speak t
o her, growing disappointed that it didn’t.

  “How do you know a medicine from the future can cure what I already have?”

  “Why wouldn’t it? It’s medicine for Alzheimer’s. Even still, why wouldn’t you want to at least find out?”

  “What’s the other thing you wanted to discuss?” Marilyn asked, dismissing the medicine topic.

  The sudden change caught Martin off guard and he hesitated with his mouth hung open.

  “This war,” he said. “I’ve all but been told that I’m going to be forced to be a part of it. With this gift I have, they consider me too valuable to let me live my life like a normal person.”

  “Why not just hide in another country?”

  “These people are all over the world. And they can find me even when I don’t know where I am. It’s like they have eyes on every corner of the globe.”

  “What side would you join in this war?”

  “The Road Runners. I’ve experienced both sides and it seems they’re the good guys. Chris is a lunatic con man who will say anything to get his way.”

  “It sounds like a unique opportunity. I think you should seize it and run with it.”

  Martin bolted upright, planting his elbows on the table. “Wh-what do you mean? There’s a good chance I could die.”

  “No shit, son. Guess what? There’s a hundred percent chance you’re going to die at the end of your life. No one gets out of this thing alive.”

  “Where is this coming from?” Martin never knew his mother to have such a careless attitude on life. Caution had always been her forte, anything to avoid a bad situation.

  “I’ve spent my whole life being held back by myself. Always afraid to take a chance at anything, playing it safe so I could make it to the finish line. But these last couple of months have taught me that was a huge mistake. They say you shouldn’t die with regret, but I think everyone who plays it safe will die with regret. There were so many things I wanted to do—even had the chance to do—but never did.”

  “Like what?”

  “I could sit here all day and tell you, but that’s not the point. The point is you have an opportunity to change the world. To actually make this shitty place better, and all you can think about is me. Why bring this cure back just for me? Why not bring it back for everyone?”

  “Mom, I’m not worried about everyone.”

  “And that’s why the world has changed so much. We all get so caught up in our own lives that we forget the stranger on the bus is probably going through a similar hell as us. I’m not asking you to save the world, but I’m urging you to consider it—whatever it may mean to you.”

  Martin leaned back again, and now he studied the table. When he had run through this conversation in his mind, he thought he and his mother would be packing a bag to go live in an exotic place where no one could find them. Instead, she was talking him into not only joining the Road Runners, but to enjoy it and make a difference.

  A couple more tears rolled down his cheek. “Mom, I can’t leave you to go fight bad guys that I just learned about.”

  “Yes you can. Don’t make an excuse. Once you let go of excuses, you open your heart to a whole new world. Besides, you said you’ll only be gone for ten minutes no matter how long you spend in the other world.”

  Martin had never heard it referred to as the “other world,” but that’s exactly what it was: another existence that was taking place without anyone’s knowledge from the present time. He looked up to the ceiling, hoping a reasonable response would fall from the sky.

  “You can look for all the excuses you want up there,” she said. “But just know this. No matter what you decide, you’re going to look back to this exact moment as the one that shaped the rest of your life. You just need to decide if you want this moment to look glorious or regrettable.”

  Martin nodded. “I love you, Mom. Your energy and courage after all that has happened is so admirable. I’m gonna fight this war so we can kill Chris, and I’m coming back with the cure for Alzheimer’s. I want you to stop talking about death; you’re going to live another thirty years, and we can stay in this house for all of it.”

  Tears streamed down both of their faces as they stared at each other with glossy eyes.

  “And I’m proud of you, Marty. I know your life has been pure darkness since Izzy died, but you still found a way to turn it around after all these years. Do this in her honor, let her know her daddy’s a hero.”

  “I do everything for her.”

  “Good. So what are we ordering for takeout?”

  They both wiped their eyes and laughed into the empty house.

  83

  Chapter 28

  Martin’s excitement grew the more he thought about joining the Road Runners. His mother was right; this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity at a new life. Izzy was gone, Sonya was gone, and his mother gave her blessing to pursue this. He had no reason to say no, and couldn’t stop his legs from bouncing while they sat through dinner at a local Italian restaurant.

  He warned her that if he died in the past or future, he would die in his sleep in 2018. She could sit by his side for a mere ten minutes, and wait for him to either wake up or stop breathing.

  His gut churned at the thought of driving downtown to meet with the 2018 Road Runners. Would the Commander be there? Did they already know what he was thinking, like Chris? They could have had eyes on his house and heard the entire conversation with his mother, already making arrangements for his arrival.

  Regardless of what the Road Runners had planned, Martin rode the energy of his personal renaissance. He imagined killing Chris, not knowing exactly how since the old man was immune to bullets and blades. He closed his eyes and pictured himself hoisted in the air by other Road Runners, hundreds of them chanting his name, because dammit, he was the secret weapon. And the hero.

  Martin grew nauseous while he drove his mom home after dinner. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I’ll make sure they let me come home before sending me anywhere else.”

  “Not necessary. Let this be our goodbye. And if I never see you again, just know that I love you.”

  Neither had any more tears to shed, but Martin had every intent on returning home before officially jumping into a war.

  “I love you, Mom. Do you want me to help you inside?”

  “No. I can see it in your eyes. You’re ready. Don’t waste another minute. Go wherever you’re going, and start your new life. I’ll be here.”

  She leaned over the center console and kissed him on the forehead before pushing open the car door.

  “I love you, too,” she said before she closed the door. She looked over her shoulder, eyes wet.

  Martin watched her wobble to the front door and had a brief flash of memories from his childhood, his mother prominent in every one. She had always been there to guide him through life, and he would be forever grateful for the final lesson she had given, pushing him into a whole new life.

  He pulled out of the driveway, the sun starting its descent. Darkness would swallow the city by the time he arrived downtown, so he flicked on his headlights and drove out of his neighborhood, passing the other large houses, imagining the lives that carried on as normal inside their walls, oblivious to the thousands of people battling across the spectrum of time for the betterment of the world.

  Carry on, everyone. I’ll be back. I promise.

  * * *

  The drive downtown took Martin just under thirty minutes. He paused when he reached the Chop House, a two-level steakhouse where Denver’s finest gathered to dine on weekends. The building hid behind Coors Field, but glowed elegantly in the night, its red neon letters sure to draw the attention of any passersby.

  He passed two valet workers, and drove to the back where a separate, public garage awaited.

  The garage’s bright lights splashed across the road in front of him. He pulled in, took a ticket, and drove toward the corner stairwell. It was a quiet evening, so he had no issue finding
a spot.

  Martin parked with the stairwell door in his rear view and waited a moment in his car. He wondered if they were already watching him from underground, then cracked his knuckles and stepped out of the car.

  The garage remained deserted as he strode toward the stairwell, eyes bouncing from corner to corner. He pulled open the door to the stinging stench of urine soaked into the metal steps where numerous homeless spent their nights off the streets. He briefly reminisced on kicking the bums out of his parking garage way back when he had managed one in 1993.

  Those good ‘ol days when you had a family and life seemed perfect.

  Martin immediately shook the nostalgia from his mind as he descended the stairs, his footsteps thudding and echoing. The garage was a small one, only two levels into the earth, so Martin reached the bottom landing within a minute.

  He stood at the door that entered back into the garage and found it abandoned. Surely no one would drive so low when there were dozens of spots on the ground level, and probably a hundred more on the level above.

  These Road Runners sure do find the best hiding spots.

  “You also never thought this was real,” he said aloud, no longer worried about eavesdroppers.

  Five minutes passed as he waited at the bottom of the stairs. The dim lighting proved why a homeless person would choose this location as their overnight hotel. It was just warm enough for comfort, and just dim enough for a good sleep. Not to mention the privacy provided when the garage was barely in use.

  Did they tell me the right spot?

  As if his thoughts could be heard, footsteps came from the top of the stairwell, thudding with each heavy step, vibrating the entire building with it. Martin’s heart thumped harder, anticipating the encounter that would change his life.

  What if it’s just a bum ready for bed?

  But it wasn’t.

  It was Bill.

  “How did you get here so fast?” Martin asked, trying to do quick math in his head that ruled Bill’s appearance as an impossibility.