Jericho Johnson: The Gauntlet of Time

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Jericho Johnson: The Gauntlet of Time Page 5

by J. A. Stowell


  To be honest she had just enough of an accent to be hot.

  But just don’t you forget that she was trying to kill me. Because I sure didn’t.

  “Russian, German… pretty much the same thing,” I told her, mainly just to get under her skin. “Your nationality doesn’t really interest me right at this moment.”

  Chloe glared at me. Get used to hearing that because she glared a lot. “It should, considering Russia created the glove you’ve been using for your little joyrides through time.”

  Hmm. Wasn’t really expecting that. Granted, I knew that whoever had invented it couldn’t have been American. Not to sound unpatriotic or anything, but Americans really just let other countries create the awesome stuff and then pounce on the idea. I could already see off-brand time-traveling gloves at Wal-mart…

  “Let me guess, it was your father who is dead now or something equally as lame and overdone,” I shot back.

  Then three things happened.

  First, the Russian girl by the name of Chloe began crying. The second thing was that I felt instantly like a cretin. The third was Evonne giving me a withering look, letting me know that if I didn‘t already feel like a cretin, which I did, then I should. What? How was I supposed to know…

  Since the alleged Chloe was indeed trying to kill me, just putting a comforting arm around her shoulders wasn’t going to cut it in this case. So she cried while I stood with my hands on my hips examining the ceiling. This only lasted a minute or so, thank God, and after Chloe had finished she stood, trying to wipe her eyes with a shoulder with no success.

  Then, you guessed it, she glared at me. “Aren’t you just smug, then?” She began, a smile coming to her lips. And not the good kind of smile, might I add. It was the kind that let you know whatever else the smiler had to say was something you probably didn’t want to hear.

  Chloe took a step toward me and she was so menacing, I believe that was the word I used to describe her on our first meeting, I took a step back. Wait- didn’t that happen too?

  “You just do whatever you want and never tell yourself no. Anyone that’s not you only comes into your mind when you have the inkling to show off. You are, without a doubt, one of the most self-centered, impulsive, unfeeling human beings I have ever encountered.”

  I hate to say that everything she said was pretty much true. But at the time, I really didn’t feel like being lectured by some Russian chic.

  “That’s just it, Chloe. You don’t know me. We’ve known each other for about…” I glanced at the time on my glove, “four hours now. And only had contact for, like, thirty minutes of that. So you can keep your life-lesson speeches for someone you’ve actually met before.” Evonne laid a hand on my shoulder.

  “Master Johnson…”

  Chloe’s smile vanished halfway through my rant but one side of her mouth twitched a little when I’d finished. She looked like whatever she was thinking about was either annoying, amusing, or both. “Actually we have met before.”

  What?

  That’s when I finally took note of Evonne’s hand. I glanced at him with a frown.

  “The paper yesterday morning…” He said.

  Then it all came back. I closed the small gap between Chloe and I and reached for her face, turning it sideways. “Mona?” I asked, then instantly felt stupid. But of course she was Mona. Funny how a teacher as awesome with details could miss one of his students when all she did was lose her glasses and dye her hair.

  “Just so you know,” I muttered, taking a step back and pointing an accusing finger at the imposter. “If you don’t kill me before I make it back to Chicago, I am so failing you.”

  “Oh, please don’t fail me, Mr. Johnson.” She gasped, wide-eyed, “I just don’t know what I’d do if my peers from the year 2340 found out I flunked 2012 history.”

  I cut my eyes at Evonne, “You wouldn’t by any chance happen to have a gag of some kind on you, huh?”

  The butler shook his head. “Not at the moment, Master Johnson.”

  “Will you please stop with the ‘Master Johnson’,” Chloe decided to cut in, really making the whole no-gag situation that much more annoying.

  “Listen, Mona,” I said, glaring at her. Great. Now she had me glaring. “If I paid you almost a million dollars a year to drive my limo and change my sheets, you’d call me master, too. So zip it.”

  “I don’t know,” Chloe said with a cocked head, “I’d have to look at your sheets first.”

  Yeah. That was enough.

  “So what’s to keep me from convincing my extremely devout homies that you’re a traitor to their cause and require immediate termination?”

  Chloe laughed at that, “What? You think you’re the only one with homies in different eras?”

  “I’d like to think so.”

  “You thinking is a recipe for disaster.”

  “Your face is a recipe for disaster.”

  “You didn’t think so at Denny’s.”

  “I-”

  Wow. Why am I even telling you this part? I mean, it really happened, but I just don’t like me not being in control. Whatever. Details. It’s all about the details. Remember that, whoever you are.

  “I heard we made the front page,” Chloe said, smiling. “Did my hair look alright?”

  “You mentioned something about the year Twenty-Three- what? Twenty-Thirty something?” I said, trying to change the subject.

  “2340.”

  “Yeah, that. Is that where you’re from?”

  Chloe was smiling too much now. It would seem she was having way more fun than a lady tied up by two guys should. Just saying.

  “And why would I want to cooperate with you again?” She asked.

  I sighed. Man, but this chic was tiring. “Look, if you promise not to kill me, I’ll untie you. Partly because the ropes aren’t distressing you but mainly so you’ll answer a few questions.”

  Chloe eyed me for a few seconds. Then said, “And if I choose to not answer your questions?”

  I shrugged. “I’m feeling generous so I might not take your glove with me when I split if you just answer my freakin’ questions.”

  That got her attention. Good. Finally…

  “Ask your questions then, Jericho,” She said.

  “Awesome. Evonne, the ropes?” Once her hands were freed she sat down cross-legged on the dirt floor and rubbed her wrists. I sat down opposite her the same way. Why, you might ask? Well, you might not. I hope you don’t because I truly don’t know why I did it, either.

  “Start with whoever invented the gloves.”

  Chloe started braiding her black hair. “That’s a statement.”

  I just stared at her. “Are you really serious right now?”

  She laughed. “No. You’re just funny when you get your feathers ruffled.” She was halfway done with her hair when she actually started, “My father, Dr. Atrium Sparks, was the one who discovered this… phenomenon. He spent a good part of his life searching for it and finally stumbled on it in 2335.”

  “Don’t ask me what makes these things work.” She pointed to my glove for emphasis. “It's a long story and I don't want to go into it.”

  “I know what the outside is made of,” I ventured, “Other than that you know way more than I do.”

  “The glove you happened upon is the first of the only three in existence. A year after the glove’s creation, my father finally decided that it could never fall into the wrong hands and made it vanish.”

  Chloe stopped her tale and looked at me. “Tell me truly- did you steal the glove from my father?”

  The answer was no, I hadn’t mugged her daddy and lifted the Rolex of time off him. But I wasn’t sure that I wanted her to know that I was innocent just yet. “I guess that all depends what future Russians define theft as.”

  Chloe looked at me blankly. Since she wasn’t glaring I was starting to feel our relationship was starting to smooth out some. I mean, aside from her trying to kill me, and all. “Alright,” I said to
her. “You want the truth? Here it is.” I patted my glove. “I found this little jewel inside a container made from hard plastic and lead buried in Arizona.”

  This was, as farfetched as it seemed, completely true. Chloe chewed on her lip in thought, looking ever the cutest while she did it. Geez. Assassin, Johnson. Crazy-pyscho-hitchic from the future, man.

  “Near Flagstaff?” The Russian girl asked.

  Now it was my turn to chew on my lip except instead my mouth dropped open like an idiot. “Ye-yeah.” I stammered falling even more into the pit of idiocy. “How’d you, uh, know?”

  Chloe simply shrugged, “Not much left of your country where I come from. Or when I come from, I suppose.”

  Apparently she was done until she saw my raised eyebrows. “Oh.” She said, “I guess this would be the best time to tell you that America as you know it will be abolished in 2076.”

  Yeah. Now was probably the best time for that little piece of info.

  “After the California incident in 2017 your government was in shambles. To be honest, the rest of the world was surprised that the US made it to 2076 to start with.”

  I didn’t ask what the California incident was. Mainly because I’m pretty sure I knew what happened. What? It’s basically sitting on a sandbar that’s infested with pipes full of high explosive gasses, guys. C’mon, now, don’t tell me you didn’t see that coming…

  “So what does that have to do with Flagstaff?” I inquired.

  “After your government finally collapsed, mother Russia moved in. I’ll spare you all the details of the uprisings in 2200, World War four in 2278, and the civil war that is happening in my time right now. Suffice it to say that a planet can only burn so many times, Jericho. Flagstaff, Arizona is one of the few remaining cities left in what was once America.”

  This was a lot to take in. Like, a severely large amount to take in.

  “I’m surprised that you, with the gloves power, haven’t ventured into the future. Why is that?”

  I just shrugged although it was true. From the moment I found my glove and started my expeditions in the past, I had made an unwritten, unannounced rule that traveling too far into the future was off limits. “Maybe I just wanted to leave the future to God,” I said, trying to sound sarcastic but not pulling it off.

  “Or maybe you’re just afraid,” She said, completely seeing through my entire fabricated persona. The same one that I’d been cultivating for years. Stupid Russian chic… “You’re probably telling yourself that your travels are to prove history wrong. When in truth you’re really going because you know what’s coming. This is just a game to you and history itself is your walkthrough. The only thing you’ve ever feared is the unknown. Why else would you have started pushing yourself at such a young age to achieve knowledge? To you, knowing how to accomplish something is better than the accomplishment itself.

  “You have to know what’s coming, don’t you?” Chloe had long since lost her college girl attitude and had once again became the murderous Russian chic. “Tell me, Jericho,” She said, leaning toward me.

  “Did you see me coming?

  Chapter 8

  To say that I was speechless would be, in fact, a lie. Big one. I had lots of things to say to little miss Russia. But, in the end, all I ended up telling her was for her to tell me more about why she was trying to kill me. That sounded like something that needed to be cleared up.

  “Verde von Klaus.”

  I frowned, “Who has a clown?”

  Chloe narrowed her eyes at me. Since this still wasn’t a glare I was starting to think maybe we were getting on the right foot for once. “Verde von Klaus is the name of the man who sent me.”

  “Oh.” I nodded slowly. “So, I just need to go talk to him, then. Clear this whole misunderstanding up in a flash.”

  “Considering he sent me to kill you, yes I’d say things would be cleared up in a flash at your meeting,” said the Russian girl.

  “So why the college girl ruse?” I asked her, “You’ve been in my class for like-”

  “Six months.” Chloe decided to finish for me.

  I glared at her. Geez, I just can’t escape all the glaring.

  “Thank you, Sherlock. However would I have remembered that little tidbit.” I muttered.

  Chloe smiled at that before finally telling me what I wanted to know. Shrugging, she said, “I had to find out if you even had the glove in the first place.”

  What? I mean, I understood, but I thought I was the picture of carefulness. Upon my stating this, Chloe suddenly burst out in peals of laughter. “So the future predicting, all knowing, history loving billionaire was careful?” After she got the reigns pulled back on her funny horse she said, “The people of your time were easy to fool because they know nothing of true suffering. Sure, America has had their share of sticky situations, but in the end they always came out on top. Now they’re presented with someone who can, to them, predict the future. Should they embrace this new found superman, or pick apart every detail to find out what’s really going on because, of course, men aren’t capable of feats such as these?”

  I couldn’t answer that, which I guess was what Chloe wanted because apparently she wasn’t finished.

  “Have you ever heard of the Butterfly Effect?”

  “Of course,” I answered, “Great movie. Although the ending wasn’t the best.”

  “It was rather odd, I’d say.” Evonne threw in.

  “Fools.” Chloe muttered, shaking her head causing Evonne and I some comfort. Finally, another point for us. What? You’re thinking that I haven’t been keeping up with Russia’s points? Oh, you weren’t thinking that? Uh, then never mind…

  “Yes, I know about your theory that relates to trampling innocent insects. What’s your point?” I said.

  “My point,” Chloe said, “Is that on one of these field trips of yours, sooner or later, you will step on a butterfly.”

  Okay. I’d had enough lecturing to last me the rest of my life. “Good point, miss Mona,” I said in my best history teacher voice, “Now I think it’s time for you to listen to me.” I finished, and stood.

  “First off, America has been through plenty, sweetheart, so forgive me for telling you to keep your Twenty-Fourth century rants to yourself. And, oh yeah, Russia is one of the most bountiful countries on the planet. But since you guys had a few nut jobs like Stalin at the helm you’ve been through oh so much woe and sadness.” I said that last part with as much animation and sarcasm that someone could possibly pour into a subject and still be taken seriously.

  “And his little famous saying all you Russian folks like to throw around that states, ‘The death of one man is a tragedy, death of a million is a statistic’, wasn’t even said by him. It was said first by a German writer and sideline pacifist named Erich Maria Remarque.”

  Chloe didn’t like being a college girl anymore if her darkened facial features and the almost visible steam coming out of her ears was anything to go by. “So you’ve met him, then?”

  I laughed at that, “Yeah, I’m just going to go have a cup of tea with one of the most maniacal and murderous of men that history has to offer. No, Chloe, that’s just a little Wikipedia for you.” I leaned against a nearby post, “Secondly, I’ve tested out your Butterfly Effect theory myself several times and I have to say, it’s bogus.”

  “What have you done?”

  Shrugging, I said, “Not much. Punched Da Vinci’ in the face, made sure that a certain emperor didn’t have a fiddle when Rome burnt… easy stuff.”

  After looking at me for what seemed like a long time, Chloe said, “And?”

  I shrugged again. “And nothing. That’s just it. Nothing happened differently.”

  “I… That doesn’t make any sense.” For the first time, the Russian girl looked confused.

  “Not really, when you think about it.” I told her, “We’ve all just been looking at time the wrong way. Instead of the past being this ever flowing life stream that makes the future p
ossible, it’s just the past. Look at it like time takes a picture every millisecond, when we go back in time it’s like stepping on a painted sidewalk. Our presence on the sidewalk doesn’t change the painting neither does whatever we do while we’re there.”

  Chloe had been listening to this intently, which I was thinking was a good sign. “So I guess what I’m really trying to ask is, since you and I know that your Butterfly theory is a bust, what’s the real reason you’re trying to kill me?”

  "I don't have to kill you. I just need the glove."

  I watched her brows furrow in thought as she chewed at her lip a little. After doing this for too long, she finally said, “I told you your glove was unique, yes?”

  I shook my head, “You said there were two others and that was pretty much it.”

  “The glove you found was the first my father created.” She said, “He tried to keep its existence secret but since the whole operation was funded by Klaus, it was only a matter of time before he found out.”

  Then it all started making sense. Or, about as much sense as a crazy story like this could, anyway. “So your dad hid it in the past somewhere near Flagstaff.”

  “Exactly. The construction of the second glove was just for that purpose alone.”

  “Ok. Whoa. Back up,” I told her, holding up my glove and pointing at it. “So you’re saying that your old man built a whole other glove just to hide this one in the past? Explain yourself, little Miss Russia.”

  Chloe stood and Evonne bristled slightly, a hand flying to his broadsword. “Easy, Mitch…” I said to him.

  “The first glove possesses two important things that it’s two cousins lack.” Chloe said simply, “I can only make one jump in a twelve hour period with mine, whereas you can change times every second should you choose.”

  I frowned, examining my glove, “No kidding?”

  “Not only that, but the first glove is also the only one of the three capable of transporting others simply by touch, whether you are taking them with you or bringing them back.”

 

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