9781940740065

by Paul B. Kohler

  While the team was dressing in their respective areas, the anti-anxiety pills were distributed and swallowed.

  “Peter, I set aside a leather satchel for you,” Applegate said quietly from behind. “It would be perfect for holding any important paperwork while on the mission.” The general handed Peter the bag.

  “Thanks, General. I’ll swap things out while we wait for the doctors to finish.”

  Peter stepped aside and found an empty table. He nonchalantly looked about before moving the large manila envelope and his own vintage cash to the satchel. As he finished, General Applegate walked up.

  “Peter. Here is an envelope with sufficient funds to complete the mission. Spend it wisely.” Applegate handed Peter the envelope, and he slid it into the bag.

  “Thank you, sir. Seeing as how we are about to depart, I would like to see Benny and Stella be released before we head down to level six.”

  General Applegate looked stunned at Peter’s request. “That was not part of the agreement, Peter.”

  “Sure it was. You said that once we left, they would be free to leave. It’s now 9:45 and we leave within the hour. I would like to say goodbye before I go.”

  “What you are asking doesn’t fit into the schedule. I’m sorry, you will have to trust me; they will be released.”

  “Listen, General. I’ve been patient with you from the beginning. I have rarely questioned your motives, despite my doubts. And honestly, I don’t trust you. You need to release them now, or your operation will be a man down, because I will walk out of here right now.” Peter didn’t break eye contact with the general.

  “Fine. You will have to give me thirty minutes for their debrief and release.” Applegate paused momentarily, as he considered the situation. “As soon as you are outfitted, head down to sublevel six. I will bring them up, and you can say your goodbyes from there.”

  Applegate stomped off, clearly frustrated at Peter’s demands. Peter hadn’t lied. He didn’t trust the general, and regardless of what kind of shift occurred because of this expedition, he wanted to free his friends before he left.

  Peter slung his new satchel over his shoulder and walked back to the dressing area. Dr. Larsson was dressed and waiting next to Julie, but Dr. Lamb was still trying to decide what shoes to wear.

  “Please, Doctor. Just pick a pair and let’s get a move on,” Peter stated and headed for the stairway. Peter heard the click-clack a moment later and smiled at the sound of Julie hurrying to catch up.

  Forty minutes to Linear Shift

  Peter and Julie were greeted by a restless engineer when they arrived at the entry door to sublevel six.

  “We’ve got tickets for the next flight out,” Peter joked. He didn’t receive the desired response.

  “Why are you two down here without an escort?” asked one of the scientists.

  “Relax, friend. General Applegate sent us down. He’ll be along shortly. Lamb and Larsson are right behind us,” replied Peter, just as the doctors walked up.

  “So who here is going to get us up to speed so we can do this time jump thing?” quipped Peter, glancing at each of the scientists’ faces one by one.

  “I can give you two the tour,” Dr. Lamb offered.

  “Great. Show us where the magic happens.” Peter noticed his confidence increasing in the last ten minutes. He wondered if the pills had anything to do with it or if it was his own attempt to hide his nerves.

  Peter brushed away the thoughts and took Julie’s hand as they followed Dr. Lamb down yet another long corridor. The difference with this one was that it appeared newly constructed. The ceiling glowed, but Peter could not see any fixtures. Recessed lighting? Didn’t have those in the forties.

  As they neared the end, there was a sign posted that said, “NO ELECTRONIC DEVICES BEYOND THIS POINT.”

  “What’s with this?” inquired Peter.

  “Oh, that. It’s meant for cell phones, tablets, and the like. There are computers being used in here, but the time-travel chamber is located in a clean zone. It’s enclosed within lead-lined walls to eliminate interference.”

  “Aren’t those to prevent radiation from harming people?”

  “Yes, they are effective for that as well, but the sensitivity of the equipment running the time-travel program dictates it be used for this application as well,” replied Dr. Lamb.

  “If you need all this computer equipment to run the time machine, what did they do in 1942?” asked Julie.

  “Well, Dr. Epson did, in fact, use a computer. It was not a digital device as you know it and largely occupied the majority of the surplus area throughout sublevel six. It was the size of a small house. Shall we continue?”

  Dr. Lamb turned into another large room. Peter thought this area could be an auditorium or gymnasium. Built in the center of the floor area were two enclosures approximately ten feet by ten feet, with opposing doors for access. Along the perimeter of the room were a half dozen computers set up at work stations. On the far side of the enclosures were several rows of theater seating.

  “Are we expecting a movie?” Peter asked.

  “Not quite. As we were developing Dr. Epson’s theory, we had a number of fellow scientists fly in to document the research.” Dr. Lamb paused, as he activated a power coil. “We will not have an overly large audience today. Once everyone arrives, we will run through a brief explanation of the protocols and then we’ll be zipped.”

  “Zipped?” Peter questioned.

  “Just my term for the process. You know when you zip computer files to reduce their size, it’s easier to send large amounts of information? Well, we’re zipping ourselves to be sent back.”

  “I’m sure my kids would know exactly what you’re talking about.” Peter replied. “Don’t we have a precise departure time?” Peter asked, trying to move passed the scientific jumble that Dr. Lamb was ever so excited to explain.

  “Not exactly. You see, we can jump within a specific window of time. During that time, we can pinpoint our exact destination. That window will close at 10:42 this morning and it will not open again for another six weeks,” Dr. Lamb explained.

  “OK, makes total sense,” Peter lied, not wanting to admit that the science was light-years beyond his comprehension. He looked at Julie, and she shrugged her shoulders.

  Peter walked up to the twin chambers and examined the layout. He could see the lead lining and wondered just how safe this was. Who was the lining protecting, the scientist running the show from outside or the travelers inside?

  As Peter rounded the outside of the chambers, they were joined by Dr. Larsson, General Applegate, and Mark. What the hell was Mark doing there?

  “Peter? A moment,” said General Applegate nodding away from the group.

  Peter walked across the room and met Applegate near the entrance to the corridor.

  “Peter, Benny is sick. We have physicians evaluating his condition as we speak. He won’t be leaving today. However, Stella is here and desperate to see you. She has been brought up to speed rather quickly to meet your demands. Please don’t tax her mental state. She is in shock after our explanation.”

  “Is he going to be ok?” asked Peter. “Benny seemed fine last week.”

  “He should be fine. Just some flu bug,” replied the general. “Mark, you can bring Stella in now.”

  Mark nodded and returned moments later with Stella. When Peter saw the look on her face, he realized that the general had not been exaggerating. Shock was a term used too lightly for her condition. She looked haggard and disoriented. As Mark released her arm, she flinched and stepped away from him. Then she noticed Peter.

  “Peter!” yelled Stella as she stumbled to him and hugged him tightly. “Oh, honey. You are so brave! They just told me all about what you’re doing, and I think you’re the most wonderful man.”

  Peter, confused, said, “How’s Benny? The general said he was under the weather.”

  Stella fidgeted and looked nervously around the room. “He’s, um . . . he
’ll be OK. Just got a bug or something.”

  Feeling a little relief, Peter continued “How about you? Are you ready to get out of here? It’ll all be over in what, ten minutes or so?” he questioned the general, who was standing near listing to their conversation.

  “That’s correct. We have to jump in the next ten minutes, so please wrap this up.”

  “Right. Listen, Stella. Tell Benny that I hope he feels better and let him know how sorry I am that this all happened.”

  “I’ll do that, sssweetie,” slurred Stella. “You be currrful on your trip.”

  “Are you doing OK yourself, Stella?” Peter asked, concerned. “You seem to be a bit out of sorts.”

  “I’ll bbbe jussst fine, Darlin’,” she replied, not making eye contact.

  Mark once again took Stella by the arm. He led her to the observation seats and sat next to her in the front row.

  Dr. Lamb conveyed some last minute instructions to the attendant manning the computers and joined Peter and the general. “It looks like we are green across the board, General.”

  General Applegate called for Julie and Dr. Larsson to join them. “The time has come, and I want to thank each and every one of you again for your dedication to this mission. We only have a brief moment to explain the process. Dr. Lamb?”

  “As we explained yesterday, we will each be reduced to a digital stream and sent through the nearest gateway. In order to reduce us to a digital format, we will be utilizing Epson’s devices in the chambers.” Lamb referred to the twin chambers which were beginning to leak some sort of cloudy gas.

  “Are they supposed to be leaking like that?” asked Julie.

  “Yes, that’s an inert gas that is lowering the temperature of the lead surrounding the chambers.” As Dr. Lamb spoke, Peter couldn’t help but hear Stella weeping.

  Peter looked to the general, and it was clear that he was trying his best to ignore her. The general remained focused on Doctor Lamb’s explanations. Peter looked back to where Stella and Mark were sitting, concerned with her condition.

  General Applegate cleared his throat in an effort to bring Peter back to the conversation.

  “Once the chambers have dropped to the target temperature, we will enter the transmitter. Hope everyone is comfortable with each other, it’s gonna be snug. Located inside the chamber are four titanium plates surrounded by multiple electromagnets. As the magnets begin to spin, the titanium plates will record their contents as digital data and begin sending the signal.”

  “Wait. Are we going to be deconstructed one layer at a time?” asked Peter.

  “Not exactly. According to Dr. Epson’s research, we will simply vanish after the recording process is complete,” Dr. Larsson replied nervously.

  “So this is untested?”

  “Not exactly. As we stated yesterday, Dr. Epson tested it in a limited fashion. What you all are doing today has not been. That was made clear when we first approached you about the mission,” stated General Applegate.

  “Great. We’re guinea pigs,” Peter said sarcastically.

  “Shall we begin?” asked Dr. Lamb.

  Followed by a few assistants, the team moved toward the transmitter. As they did, Peter glanced at Stella. He was worried about her. Suddenly she jumped to her feet and screamed, “PETER, THEY KILLED BENNY!” She attempted to run, but Mark was quick. He reached out and grabbed her arm as she passed. She spun around and hit the floor, hard. As she tried to crawl away, Mark pulled her to her feet, a pistol in his hand.

  By now, everyone in the room was stunned. Every eye on the room was fixated on Stella and Mark as the melee unfolded. Mark held Stella tightly, wrapping his left arm around her shoulders and covering her mouth with his hand. He pointed the gun directly at her head with his right hand.

  “Now listen to me!” barked Mark. “All of you are going to get on those platforms and go on your mission. Stella here will be just fine as long as you all play along.”

  “WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?” Peter looked at General Applegate and was surprised to see fear in his eyes. He had been certain that Applegate was behind everything.

  “Listen to me, Mark,” said the General. “There’s no reason to hurt anyone else. Killing Benny was an accident, and nobody blames you.”

  “Shut up! You four, get in the fucking chamber now!” Mark yelled as he cocked his pistol.

  Peter stood speechless. As he attempted to process what was going on, he could see Trevor slipping silently around the back of the observation area. He didn’t recall seeing him come in with the rest of the group.

  “Mark, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” screamed Peter. “What did Benny or Stella do?” he pleaded, trying to keep Mark’s attention while Trevor crept up from behind, his own gun drawn.

  “You don’t get it, moron? This mission was supposed to be mine, but the general here pulled the plug at the last minute,” growled Mark.

  Applegate didn’t reply right away, and his eyes shifted to Trevor about twenty feet from Mark. Mark noticed and instinctively turned. As soon as he caught sight of Trevor crouching, gun pointed at him, he pushed Stella to the floor and swung his pistol around. He pulled the trigger twice. The first shot missed wide left, but the second shot hit home, piercing Trevor’s forehead above his left eye. The impact of the bullet flung his head back as he fell to the floor. Mark now aimed his weapon toward the appalled crowd.

  “Get in the chamber now!” he screamed.

  Nobody moved except for Stella as she tried to crawl away quietly. Mark pointed the gun down and shot her in the back. She no longer wept or crawled. Mark leveled his gun at General Applegate next.

  “Are you going to move, or do I need to keep shooting until there’s nobody left?”

  “You son of a bitch! Why are you doing this? Why don’t you go?” asked Peter, as tears blurred his vision.

  “Because I can’t jump. We tried, didn’t we General? My platoon was hit by an IED in Afghanistan, and I have a metal plate around my left eye. It reacted to the magnetic coils in the transmitter.” Mark paused, as he wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. “It hurt like hell, but I ain’t no pussy. General Applegate here refused to let me travel after that. Said I could die. I call bullshit. Now my only chance is for you all to get in the chamber and change something-anything so I don’t lose my men in that godforsaken place. No IED, no metal plate, I travel.” Mark’s voice had taken on an eerie, chilling calm. He pulled the hammer back on his pistol as he pointed it at General Applegate.

  “Go!” Applegate yelled, and the team jumped into the chamber. They climbed onto the titanium platforms.

  Silently, the four team members were strapped in by one of the assistants. All were either shaking, crying, or both. After the last belt was secured, the attendant stepped out of the chamber and latched the door. He nodded to the general, who was now standing by the control board watching Mark. He reached across the panel and lifted a red switch cover and flicked the switch beneath.

  Nothing happened.

  He flipped it again, and nothing happened.

  Applegate turned to the large clock on the wall. It read 10:42. No, 10:43 now.

  “Oh God, we’re too late!” cried the general. All hope for the mission was lost. A solemn silence settled over the room.

  Slowly, the power inverter began to hum and pop. All eyes turned to the large power coil and saw that it began to spark, turning faster and faster. As it reached critical mass, a loud grinding sound came from the back side of the device and a thunderous clap deafened everyone in the room. Smoke billowed about the room, as the resonance of the power inverter began to abate.

  Applegate stumbled around the control bank and rushed to the door of the transmission chamber. He hit the latch, swung the door open, and rushed in. A moment later, he slowly walked out and said two words:

  “They’re gone.”

  CHAPTER 0

  July 24, 1942

  The apprentice stood beside his mentor, analyzing the data fr
om the spatial assembler. The smell of burned ozone permeated the room. The electro coils hummed loudly, just as they had with every one of the forty-three failed tests that preceded this one.

  “Reorganization levels?”

  Gallagher twisted a knob slightly to sharpen the display. “Levels optimal.”

  Dr. Bernard Epson stood at the large control panel, analyzing the switches and dials, verifying that they were correct. After a second visual sweep across the monstrous panel, he paused.

  “Doctor?” prompted Gallagher. “All levels are within their optimal ranges. Shall we proceed?”

  “Yes. Yes. I was just . . . reviewing everything before . . .” Epson’s voice trailed off.

  Michael Gallagher had been Dr. Epson’s trusted assistant long enough to notice he’d gone into reflection mode. Gallagher assumed the doctor was contemplating the past failures, hoping that this test would be successful. All the years of arduous research and development had culminated into this single moment. This test had to work. Needed to work.

  Epson took a deep breath before he engaged the master switch. As he drove the brass and copper lever home, the lights throughout the laboratory flickered momentarily. Gallagher briefly wondered whether they would lose power to the test chambers, but levels remained constant.

  Epson glanced across the control panel after the power surge, verifying nothing had changed. He nodded mostly to himself before looking to Gallagher, whose face was frozen in intensity.

  “Mr. Gallagher?” Epson inquired.

  “Levels are still acceptable but unstable. They should be off the charts, but they continue to deteriorate.”

  Epson stepped closer to see the telemetric readout for himself. “Can you boost the relativity modulator to compensate?”

  “Not from here. And we shouldn’t have to, Doctor. There is more than enough power coming through the electro coils. It’s almost as if there’s some kind of restriction . . . some kind of interference . . .” Gallagher stopped as the coils began to wind down.