Jericho Johnson: The Gauntlet of Time

by J. A. Stowell

  I stopped checking out my gauntlet of time long enough to give her a horrified look. “Bring ‘em back? Like, people from the past to the present?”

  She nodded.

  Wow. I had never in my wildest and most crazy ideas that had to do with time travel even considered doing that. “That could be… complicated.”

  “You can also move as many people as you want, so long as they’re all connected.” Chloe added.

  “What is your father’s connection with Verde von Klaus?” Evonne asked, surprising me.

  “Klaus is a severely wealthy man who somehow heard about a thesis my father wrote years ago on time travel. Before any of us knew it my father was approached by Klaus who asked him how much it would take to make his thesis possible. Father told him and then we were shipped to a facility in Flagstaff owned by Klaus where my father lacked for nothing.”

  “And how did you fit into all this? You’re like, what, twenty?” I asked.

  “Twenty-two,” she corrected me in annoyance, “I was twenty when I began helping my father in the lab.”

  Then she told us the rest of the story. How her father labored over a year before creating the first glove and finding out that Klaus hadn’t been playing with a full deck to start with and wanted the glove for reasons that of course Chloe didn’t know but were most likely evil conniving ones. Then her father made another one in secret and hid the original, awesome, bodacious one (found by yours truly) in the past.

  The only hang up along the way was when Klaus found out about Dr. Atrium Spark’s little switcharoo. “That’s when Klaus took my father into custody and told me to find the other glove or he’d kill him.”

  “So how long have you been searching?” I inwardly grimaced when I asked.

  “Over a year.” She confirmed.

  “Geez." I muttered. What was I supposed to say? Or do?

  “So all you need is the glove?” I asked.

  Chloe brightened a little, “You’ll give it back?”

  “I never said that.”

  Deflating a little, she said, “Yes. That’s all I need.”

  I sighed. Man, life sucks sometimes. I mean, here I am, the time-traveling, awesome billionaire who’s cut short because of some crazy guy from the future with a weird name. “Okay, Chloe, here’s the deal, we switch gloves. You tell Klaus that the other was destroyed or something but you’ll have your dad’s no-kill ticket.”

  I could tell that Chloe wasn’t too thrilled about my plan but she could also tell that she probably wasn’t going to get a better offer so she said, “Fine. I suppose you and your butler will want to get back to Chicago first?”

  “That’d rock, yes,” I said, “Grab your gear, Mitch.”

  Don’t get me wrong, whoever you are, because I wasn’t too thrilled about this little arrangement myself. But I was thinking that downgrading was a whole lot better than losing the glove completely.

  In exactly one minute, we were all standing together in the center of the shack. Evonne put a hand on my shoulder while Chloe awkwardly placed her hand on my other shoulder.

  “You kid’s buckle up,” I said, while punching in the date for Chicago.

  I guess it wouldn’t be too bad. I mean, Chloe would get her daddy back and Mitch and I would still get to be partners in time. That was the plan, anyway.

  And like most plans made when time travel was concerned, it didn’t work out.

  Like, at all.

  Chapter 9

  “Welcome to my humble abode.” I said as we appeared in my lab, “Make yourself at home. Can I get you anything?”

  “Just your glove.” Chloe said, glancing around. “Nice collection of weapons you have there.”

  “I know, right?” I said, laughing. “Just a wee bit of blades, lass.”

  Chloe looked at me, extending a hand. “Seriously, the glove?”

  Evonne had by this time already placed Chloe’s glove in the glass case. Or I guess it was my glove now. “Okay, Chloe, I’m a man of my word.”

  “No you’re not.”

  “Okay, not really, but just this once, I am.” I removed my glove, gave it a farewell pat, then handed it over to the Russians. Ha. Yet another little bit of wit for you.

  Chloe slipped in on easily, then made a face. “Gross. It’s all sweaty inside.”

  I crossed my arms, “It was either from you trying to kill me the first time, the second time, your hot black leather jumpsuit, or just because of your charming Russian personality. Take your pick.”

  Guess what she did. If your guess was that she glared at me, you are dead wrong, sir, or ma’am, maybe. I don’t really know or care. But no, she did not glare.

  Chloe smiled.

  “We interrupt this program to bring you the smiling Russian.” I chimed in a Bing Crosby voice, throwing my hands toward her theatrically.

  “You’re insane.” She said, although I noticed her smile didn’t disappear. “I wouldn’t care if it was left on a corpse for a year. I’m just glad I have it back.”

  This is a bit of an odd tale, huh? I mean, one minute Chloe's trying to kill me then the next we're laughing together and switching gloves no problem.

  Too bad it didn't remain that tranquil.

  Stepping a few feet away, Chloe began punching in a date. “Thank you, Jericho. You’ll never know what you’ve done for me.” Then her smile turned almost sincere.

  Feeling kind of sheepish, I just shrugged. “I would say anytime, but that would be too much of a pun.”

  Finishing the date, she hit enter, giving Evonne and I a wave. We returned the wave and waited for little Miss Russia to vanish from our lives for good.

  Then she didn’t vanish.

  Then she didn’t vanish again…

  …Wait. That just made, like, zero sense.

  The point is she didn’t go back to the future.

  God, I really am not explaining this well, am I? Okay, start over. Chloe hit enter, waved, but then for some reason did not go forward in time.

  Frowning, she glanced at the glove, punching at a few buttons on the touchscreen. After doing this for a second or two, and saying some very not-nice sounding words in Russian, she thrust her gloved hand at me in frustration, “What’s wrong with this thing?”

  “You had it in your possession for a grand total of, like, literally twenty seconds, Chloe, and you’ve already screwed it up?” I scolded her while snatching the glove.

  “I didn’t do anything. You’re the one who has had it for so long.”

  “Yeah, but it always worked.” I muttered, examining the silver glove. “There’s nothing wrong with it.” I said, frowning, “Maybe it just doesn’t like you.”

  Chloe didn’t think that was very funny considering she glar- man, I am really getting tired of saying that…

  Chloe didn’t think that was very funny considering she, uh, you know, did that thing at me before taking the glove back. “Please try not to say anything else stupid for the next two minutes.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. Note: I did not glare. Distinction. She tried punching in the dates to take her home. When this attempt failed, Chloe lost it, man. Just how much she lost it, I cannot say, really, because I don't speak Russian and, honestly, I'm severely glad I don't because she seemed really upset about the whole glove-not-working-so-now-she-can't-save-her-father thing.

  I ducked a sword that had somehow ended up in her hand before receiving the point against my neck as she backed me against the wall, “Что Вы делали к этому!” She screamed.

  “I don't speak Russian!” I screamed back, holding my hands up in the air and turning my face away, eyes squeezed shut against her vehemence. “I really don't!”

  “Что Вы сделали?!” Chloe tried again.

  I sighed, opened my eyes, then looked at her. “Chloe. I. Do. Not. Speak. Russian. You'll have to threaten me in plain ol' English to get what you want, sweetheart.”

  Shoulders sagging, Chloe dropped the broadsword, put her hands on
her hips, looked into my eyes--then fainted.

  I'm going to go with my being too shook up from her threatening my life with a 12th century broadsword to be quick enough to catch her before she hit the marble floor really hard.

  Yeah. That's what I'm going to go with on this one.

  And not to split hairs nor point fingers, but I didn't see Evonne jumping out like the freakin' Flash and saving her from face-planting the cold floor, either. Not like he was the one about to be decapitated by a crazed Russian psycho-chic... You'd think he would've been quicker on the draw, know what I mean?

  Wait. That reminds me...

  “And where the helheim were you when she snagged a sword and tried to kill your employer, Mitch? Taking a nap, or something?”

  Since he knew that I was, in fact, shook up, as I so wittingly put it, Evonne didn't even answer.

  Yeah, that's my pal, right there. He always knows just what to say. Or just what not to say, rather. “I'm afraid madam Chloe will be needing medical attention, Master Johnson.” And just like that, back to the awesome butler he is.

  “No way. I'm not about to have any doctors looking after little Miss Russia from the future. She's probably blood type Z, or something weird like that, anyway.” And just like that, I was back to being my old awesome self. Ain't I grand?

  I feel compelled to stop here in my tale and reassure whoever it is listening out there that I am indeed awesome. If you don't already know that by now, then stop this story right now, drop your itune way down, go kiss your mother, then go look in the mirror so you can get a firsthand look at what an idiot looks like. (And you also might want to keep going in the story because I get a lot easier to warm up to later. Honestly. Cross my heart and all that nonsense).

  Alright. Now that I've weeded out all the non-believers we can keep going.

  “Well, c'mon, Mitch, don't just stand there. Let's get her up to the house.”

  See that awesomeness, non-believers? Oh, wait. You're gone already, huh? Nevermind then. Moving on.

  “Where shall we be taking her, sir?”

  Shrugging, I picked the crumpled girl up, tossing her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. A extremely wonderful smelling sack of potatoes, at that. Funny how you miss how someone smells while fighting them for your life. “I don't know. That's you and Louise's thing. I just own the house, remember?”

  “Might I suggest one of the three master bedrooms, sir. They are quite comfortable and also have all the facilities necessary to care for a patient.” Evonne was saying while following me to the elevator.

  Stopping suddenly before stepping inside it, I turned slightly and asked, “How bad is this, Mitch, really?”

  I waited for him to answer for a few seconds. At first I thought he wasn't going to answer at all and had just started to finish my entrance inside the elevator when I heard him say, “If all the girl says is true then I'd say this is indeed bad, sir.” He stepped in with me and pressed a button.

  “That's what I was afraid of.” I said.

  Chapter 10

  Man, chapter 10 already? I am really cranking these babies out. I'm so glad it's just the people who really know that I'm awesome left to hear this story because I feel like I can really let my hair down so to speak.

  Chloe ended up sleeping the rest of the night and half of the next day. She might've slept longer had not Louise, my maid and love of my life, not shown up and begin vacuuming the hallway, thus rousing the slumbering Russian monster.

  Louise was the best maid ever. Just FYI. She's been with me through the first month of my coming into money and throwing wild parties, to Evonne showing up and somehow letting me know that such parties weren't cool when I housed a time-traveling device in my basement, through my need to somehow discharge a black-powder firearm at least once a day indoors- Louise was always there. I like to think of her as a cooler version of Mrs. Hudson, the old lady that took care of Sherlock Holmes and put up with all his mess.

  Actually thought about finding her when she was a teen in the early 70s before and marrying her but figured that if I stole her heart back then she might not be the awesome maid she is today.

  So young Louise was off limits in my eyes.

  Chloe wasn't in a very good mood upon waking and finding herself in different clothes. My first inclination of her rising was when the elevator door opened and she burst through all fire and brimstone.

  "Where are my clothes?"

  "Easy there, pilgrim," I said, turning away from the flatscreen I was playing Xbox on, "Next time I lose consciousness you can return the favor and put actual clean clothes on me. Happy now? And don't take this the wrong way, but why're you up?"

  Chloe shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose a index finger and thumb while the other hand went to rest on her hip. I was beginning to think I'd never knew this chic. She was so uptight. Guess your father's life in the balance'll take a toll on you. "Some black woman was cleaning your carpet, or something..."

  "Say one more word about my ebony princess Louise, and you can kiss any thought of me helping you goodbye," I told her.

  Chloe must not have appreciated my comment because she just shrugged it off and aimed her crazy lazer-beamed gaze at the nearest wall.

  “Why aren’t you working on the glove?” She asked sharply.

  “And what makes you think that I’m spending my oh-so precious time trying to fix your ticket home?”

  Chloe just stared at me. The look on her face wasn’t that hard to read. It clearly said, “Really?”

  Shrugging, I turned back to my Xbox, “Anyway, it’s not broken at any rate,” I told her, meleeing the helheim out of an unsuspecting bogey on the screen. “Did you see that?” I laughed, “I rock at this game for real. Wanna’ try?”

  When I didn’t hear her answer I shrugged again, “Can’t pause in the middle of an online match and not get killed. Give me, oh…” I checked the kills. Yeah. My team was going to win for sure. “About six more kills. Then we’ll talk about your glove.”

  Miraculously, the enemy team somehow started making a comeback and the kill points got extremely close. Evonne came in with a tray of lunch just as I sniped the last kill. “Click click boom, chumps.” I yelled, standing and throwing down the controller like a football player, “Next time you’re in awesomeville, look me up. Oh, that’s right- you lost!”

  “A most gratifying win, Master Johnson.” Mitch droned behind me.

  “Think so?” I said then stretched. “Off.” After the screen has powered down I turned around to examine our lunch. “What you got, Mitch?”

  “Coney Islands, sir,” said my awesome butler, removing the lid of the platter as steam rose from the glistening cheese-covered hot dogs.

  “Sweet. But not down here.” I swept past Chloe, patting her shoulder, “C’mon, little miss Russia. We’ll take our lunch on the pavilion, Mitch, and have Louise make some hot tea, would you.”

  Not knowing what else to do, Chloe followed me up to the elevator and climbed in behind me with Mitch behind her. “Goodbye, Jericho Johnson,” the apparently female voice chimed in.

  “Same to you, sweetheart,” I said as the door closed.

  Like I’ve mentioned before, my mansion is freaking amazing. Only problem is I’m either never there to enjoy it or am too busy in my basement getting ready to leave again. So when I say that there were actually rooms that I’d never been inside, I mean it for real.

  Unlike the mysterious rest of the house, the pavilion was one of the places I’d been. Residing on the third floor and overlooking my fountain bound and glorious back yard, it was my second favorite part of my crib. Once we had seated on the slabs of solid marble benches I swept my hand about the stone white pavilion, “Whatcha’ think?”

  Chloe hadn’t said much since the basement and following suit, she merely shrugged, her face extremely hard to read. The meal was a quiet one, to be sure. What with Chloe poking at her coney with a fork--I know, right? Who eats coney islands with a fork--? a
nd me eating mine like it was my last meal on earth, it was over soon.

  “What’re you thinking about?” I asked her as Evonne cleared our dishes and Leslie came out with our hot tea. “I hope you like Chai tea, Chloe. I’m afraid that’s all I allow them to keep in stock.” I told her as the love of my life placed the tray on the stone table.

  “With that be all, Mr. Johnson?” She asked in her adorable old black woman voice. Really, she was just a treasure.

  “That’ll be all, fair maiden,” I told her, extending a hand. “Go now, my dear. Clean my atrocious abode.”

  Grunting she said, “MmHmm. That’s about right, talking about yo’ house, Mr. Johnson.” Then she left.

  “So,” I said, sipping at my tea. “You were about to tell me what you were thinking.”

  “My father.” She said quietly, “And the fact that you don’t seem to be the least bit worried about fulfilling your promise.”

  I held up a hand. “Stop right there. One, I have a team on Halo three that needs their Master Chief. And two, I have to eat sometime. Lighten up, chic. You’re the one that slept half the day.”

  Since she didn’t say anything I kept going, “Furthermore I was up all night thinking of a plan to get you home and I got to say, I believe the term easier said than done is in order here.”

  Evonne came out then with both of the gauntlets of time. Standing, I took both of them and sat beside Chloe. “Here’s the thing, somehow it doesn’t work for anyone but yours truly.” I told her, patting my glove. “Tried it on Mitch and even on Leslie, which, might I add, was horrifyingly absurd of me so don’t you go forgetting all that I put in risk to help you. Neither of my employees were able to complete a successful jump so by using the simple and useful process of elimination--"

  Chloe stood quickly, cutting me off and walked to the balcony, her arms crossed tightly as she examined my ten acre back yard.

  I shot a questioning glance at Evonne who returned the glance with a shrug and slight shake of his head. I tell you, me and Evonne can almost read each other’s minds at times. Here’s a little fragment of our mental conversation at that particular time.