9781940740065

by Paul B. Kohler

  “Well?” Julie questioned Peter, seeing him look up from the schedule.

  “It looks like we’ll be good. We’ll take the 12:35 to Flagstaff, which continues on to Denver. We could continue on from there through Chicago, and into New York via Philadelphia, or”—Peter paused to flip through a few pages—“or we could stay south and go through Kansas City and a few other stops along the way. Have any preference?”

  “No preference here. Whatever you think is fine,” Julie said, sliding her arm into Peter’s.

  “If you don’t mind, I have a suggestion,” said the man behind them in line.

  “Pardon me?” Peter said turning to the stranger.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I understand you’re heading to New York? I’ve made this trip many times, and the route through Chicago is much more scenic. Definitely a better way to travel,” said the man. “In fact, I’m heading there myself.”

  “You don’t say? Hmm. What do you say, dear? North through Chicago?” Peter asked.

  “That’s fine, darling. It’s been a while since we’ve been through the Windy City.”

  “That’s it, then. It’s settled. Thanks for the advice, uh . . .” Peter said to the man.

  “Oh. Emmett. Emmett DuBois. It’s my pleasure,” Emmett said, extending his hand.

  “Peter. And this is Julie, my wife. Pleasure.” Peter accepted his hand and shook it firmly. “Perhaps we’ll run into one another during the trip.”

  “I’m sure we will,” Emmett replied. “I can almost guarantee it.”

  Moments later, the ticket agent called “Next,” and Peter and Julie stepped forward to secure passage for the next step in the adventure.

  CHAPTER 0

  Mr. Mandrake-

  As per your request on August 12th, I am sending you this correspondence, outlining my observations of Peter Cooper and Julie Frey’s travels from San Francisco.

  Fortunately, I was able to make early contact prior to securing passage and boarding the train. That initial meeting, although brief, gave me plausible acceptance with the couple, which opened the way for future conversations throughout the trip across country.

  After departing San Francisco, Peter Cooper and Julie Frey (whom I will continually refer to as ‘the target couple’) remained in their sleeping car for the majority of the first two days. Initially, my sleeping quarters were in a different train car, but I was able to persuade the coachman to relocate me to the same car as theirs, albeit a few compartments away. Being near them gave me the opportunity to closely observe their activities through most of the trip.

  During that first day and a half, they remained in their cabin, taking all their meals in privacy. I tried to listen outside their door when I could, but only moaning sounds could be heard. Finally, in late afternoon on the third day, they emerged from seclusion and made their way to the dining car for drinks in the bar. I arrived moments later and was able to reintroduce myself. After a brief dialog, we agreed to dine together. During our dinner conversations, they revealed to me that they were history professors, married to one another, and would be traveling abroad after arriving in New York. I pressed them for more information as delicately as possible, but they remained relatively secretive about their ultimate objectives.

  During the remaining few days of the first leg of the trip, they began to spend more and more time outside of their cabin. During the four-hour layover in Denver, the three of us ventured into downtown, which was a mere mile away. During that walk, the two talked as if they’d been there before, but were surprised at how much had changed since their last visit. Had I not known about their time traveling origins, I suppose their observations could possibly come across as odd.

  The route from Denver to Chicago passed with two more shared meals and a few chance meetings in the observation car, but no new information could be gleaned. After relocating to the connecting train in Chicago, I was unable to acquire a compartment in the same sleeping car so my precise observation was limited.

  The remainder of the trip from Chicago to New York, however, resulted in the most information. I learned that they would be staying in New York while they waited for their travel documents to be prepared. I pressed on about the documents, but they were evasive with their replies.

  There was one night in particular that was quite fortuitous. After another mutual dinner, we retired to the bar for an after dinner drink. During that evening, Mr. Cooper inadvertently shared the names of two people that they needed to meet with to obtain their travel documents. I am certain that had he not consumed copious amounts of alcohol that evening, he would never have divulged that information. After that evening, our chance meetings came to mere chance, and we did not dine together again. We happened to meet in the observation car once or twice after that, but Mr. Cooper was much more subdued during future conversations.

  Upon arriving in New York, I wished them the best on their travels forward and politely dismissed myself. Once out of sight, I began to follow them covertly. Their first stop was The Riker Hotel, where they booked a room. I was able to bribe the concierge afterward for their room number. I also learned that they had paid for their room until September 4th. Not wanting to be discovered, I booked a room across the street, on the side facing the Riker, so that I could potentially see when they came and went.

  Their first night in New York, they had dinner in the hotel dining room, and then retired to their room. As had been true on the train, they remained very amorous. That first night, they failed to close their drapes and I am embarrassed to admit that I watched their night of lovemaking.

  The following morning, they had breakfast at the hotel and walked several blocks to another hotel on East 43rd, where they simply walked in, crossed though the lobby and exited on the opposite street. They continued to walk around the hotel along the surrounding sidewalk before reentering. They remained inside the Webster Hotel for nearly twenty minutes before exiting and hailing a cab. I was able to follow them to the Empire State Building, where they became tourists and visited the observation deck. I maintained my distance, but was able to keep them in sight. After an hour of mingling with the crowd on the 102nd floor, they disappeared into the elevator. By the time I was able to follow them down, they were nowhere in sight. My only option was to return to their hotel and wait for them to reappear. On my way there, I stopped back at the Webster Hotel to inquire with the concierge as to the nature of their earlier visit. After a small bribe, I learned that the couple that Peter had mentioned on the train were staying in that hotel, and that Peter and Julie had inquired about them.

  Upon returning to my hotel, I waited in the main floor café until the targets stepped out of a cab around four in the afternoon. I retreated to my own hotel room only to catch another episode of their romantic diversions. Deciding that there wasn’t much to be learned from their lovemaking, I ventured back to the Webster Hotel to see what more I could learn out about the mystery couple. Having no idea what they looked like, I inquired with the concierge on duty that evening to indicate to me who they were as I hid behind a newspaper in the lobby. After I had waited for several hours, they were discretely pointed out to me when they returned. I casually followed them into the elevator and struck up a conversation with them. I learned that he was a propaganda officer with the Army, and she was his assistant. They were on station until their departure for France on September 4th.

  At first I was confused by my targets’ visit to the hotel, the purpose of which seemed only to inquire about the other couple’s identity. Armed with this latest bit of intel, I surmised that my targets planned to appropriate the other couple’s identities and travel papers in order to board the boat to France. Over the next several days, I continued to follow and observe the target couple and concluded that my original deduction was correct, as it appeared that they were observing the daily activities of the mystery couple. It appeared to me that they were looking for some kind of rhythm in their behavior—almost as if they we
re waiting for the right time to apprehend them.

  The days passed, and their travel date approached. I knew that my targets would be making the grab without delay, but they only continued to observe. They must have had a plan, but for the life of me, I could not figure it out. Finally, going against your specific instruction not to interfere with their intention of traveling to France, I intervened. Having spent a considerable amount of time with the couple on the train ride to New York, I concluded that my targets were of the nonviolent type, and were most certainly challenged by how they would obtain the travel papers from the mystery couple. A few nights before their departure, I broke away from following my targets, and met up with the mystery couple. Certain that I wasn’t being watched, I was able to ‘take care’ of the situation. The less you know about what happened to them, the better. I was able to secure their room key and locate the travel documents and leave them in plain sight. I packed their bags and left them sitting next to the armoire.

  The following day, my targets made their move. They took a cab to the Webster and were in and out of the hotel room within ten minutes. The look of surprise on their faces was something to behold, but they were still very cautious. After hailing another cab, they traveled throughout Manhattan for an entire afternoon, not stopping for too long at any one place. Finally they returned to their hotel, and I to mine. I could see them analyze the documents from my room, and it looked like things were finally proceeding to their plan.

  The remainder of their time in New York was spent in their hotel room. I can only imagine what their room service tab was like.

  On September 4, Mr. Cooper and Ms. Frey boarded the Queen Mary and joined a convoy of ships scheduled to cross the Atlantic. Prior to eliminating the mystery couple, I was able to determine the targets’ destination, assuming that they do not deviate from their travel documentation. After a stop in Casablanca, the Queen Mary is scheduled to arrive in Sete, France on September 21st.

  With my current assignment at an end, I shall remain in New York until I receive further instructions.

  Regards,

  Emmett DuBois

  CHAPTER 1

  As Peter drove his battered Astro van toward his house, he was astonished that nothing had changed since he had returned to 2013. He had traveled back in time, completed his mission with expert precision, and returned to his own time. He had expected that something would be different—anything to make it appear that the whole ordeal had been worth it. But as he drove toward his home—to his family—everything seemed abnormally regular. He noticed that certain landmarks or instances from his own past still remained, but were slightly different.

  Just then, Peter passed the intersection of Forest and Windermere and recognized the repaired streetlight. The very streetlight that had played an inactive part in the horrific accident involving his wife several years previously. He’d almost expected to see it differently once he’d returned, regardless of what Applegate had told him. Applegate had said that even though certain things would change from what Peter remembered, some things would inevitably remain the same. And that there was no scientific way to determine what changes had taken place.

  Peter pushed the sorrowful thoughts of his dead wife from his mind, and turned into his neighborhood. As he maneuvered through the vaguely familiar streets, he finally began to see some variances. He was still a dozen blocks from his own home when the first major anomaly presented itself. A familiar house that was one of his favorites in the neighborhood wasn’t there. It just didn’t exist. In its place stood a more modern version of the house. Instead of to the traditional bungalow he remembered, it was a concrete and stucco monstrosity. It didn’t fit the neighborhood or the surrounding homes. With each additional block he drove, more of the bizarre homes began to appear.

  Finally, as he pulled onto his own street, things seemed to get back to normal. His neighbor’s house was as he remembered, and so was his own. He pulled up to the curb and shut off the engine. For the first time since returning through Epson’s time machine Peter felt anxiety. He wasn’t sure what he expected to see when he walked in. Applegate had warned him that his family might be different—even by the slightest margin, and that he should be prepared for the worst. Taking a deep breath, Peter slid from behind the wheel and made for the front door.

  As he approached the front door, he recognized the rosebushes that he and Minnie had planted the year before her accident. They were growing vibrantly now, and he could even see where he had pruned them not more than three weeks ago. Peculiar. When he stepped onto the wooden porch floor, the familiar creak echoed, and he knew everything was going to be fine. He smiled and pushed open the front door.

  Stepping inside, Peter instantly sensed a strangeness that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He glanced down to the floor and saw a pile of mail that had been dropped through the mail slot. Picking it up, he scanned the various envelopes and noticed that they were all addressed to him. He tossed them on the table in the foyer and moved further into the house. As he turned the corner into the kitchen, his heart rose into his throat at what he saw before him.

  “DADDY!” screamed Tori.

  Peter looked around the room, and saw that Brett was tied to a dining chair, and Tori was being held by the very same female German soldier who had existed in his linear shift experience back in 1942.

  “Velcome beck, Mr. Cooper,” said the soldier. “We’ve been expecting you.” She stood, holding a pistol to the temple of Tori’s head.

  Peter’s anxiety shot through the roof as he quickly analyzed the situation. He couldn’t think clearly. All he could see was the fear in Tori’s face as her tears dropped to the floor.

  “What? What is it that you want?” Peter begged. “Whatever it is, please leave my kids out of it.”

  “It’s you thet ve vant, Mr. Cooper,” she said, thrusting Tori forward as they both moved toward him. Brett wiggled in his chair, trying to break free, but his bindings were too tight.

  Peter glanced around for something—some kind of advantage. All he could see were dishes and silverware sitting on the kitchen counters. He moved slightly toward the kitchen island before he replied.

  “Why me? What is it that I can do? Whatever it is, just let my kids go, and I’ll go peacefully,” Peter said, stepping further into the kitchen. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw what he wanted. What he needed. The butcher block full of knives.

  “Halt! Do not make another move,” snapped the German.

  Peter froze mere inches from the knives.

  The soldier twisted Tori’s body in front of her own, so that she was a living shield between herself and Peter.

  “Hey, hey,” Peter protested. “I’m just standing here. I’m not going to do anything.” He rested his hands on the kitchen counter, hoping to show he was no threat.

  “Ve know you can travel through time. You must go back and fix this mess!”

  “I … I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m an architect, not a time traveler,” Peter said as he threw his hands up in exasperation. Before dropping them down, he tossed a quick wink at Tori. She nodded slightly a split second before Peter dropped his hands and grabbed the 8-inch cleaver from the butcher block.

  The soldier jumped back, yanking Tori with her. Tori screamed.

  As the soldier shuffled her feet backward, Brett did the only thing he could—he tossed his foot out, tripping the crazy German.

  Everything moved so quickly. Peter lunged toward them, pointing the cleaver toward the soldier. As he dove toward her, the gun discharged, forcing Peter to close his eyes tightly. The loud report dissipated quickly and Peter regained focus. It was too late, though, as Tori slipped to the floor, blood oozing from the side of her head.

  “No!” Peter screamed. He began to thrash, screaming over and over again, “NO! NO! Oh God, NO!”

  Peter rushed to Tori’s limp body and dropped to his knees. He slipped her delicate hand into his own and cried, “You’ve taken her. You’v
e taken her from me!” Peter closed his eyes tight, forcing his tears to fall. “Why? Why, oh why?”

  Peter felt a hand gently rub his shoulder and shake him slightly. “Why what, Peter? It’s okay. I’m right here.”

  Peter rolled over and looked into Julie’s eyes. He lurched up, tossing the covers from his naked body. He brought his hands to his face, and there were no tears. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked around. He was lying next to Julie in a drably colored room.

  “What, where … Where are we?” Peter asked, not fully awake from his nightmare.

  “It’s okay, Peter. You just had a bad dream, is all. You scared the shit out of me, though. Probably scared the people in the room next door as well.”

  Peter looked back at Julie as reality finally began to seep in. He was safe. “We’re in France?”

  “Yes, dear. We arrived late last night. We checked into the hotel and fell right into bed,” Julie said as she continued to rub his shoulder.

  He leaned back, dropping his head into the pillow. “We’re safe. We made it,” Peter said, remembering more.

  “That must have been some doozy of a dream,” Julie said. “Of course we’re safe. We were really never in danger.”

  “That was no dream. It was a hellish nightmare. They killed Tori.”

  “Who killed Tori?”

  “It was that German soldier. The one I told you about, when I tried to hide the pennies?”

  “Yes, I remember. But that wasn’t real either,” Julie said.

  “It wasn’t real to you, but it certainly was real to me—at the time,” Peter said, rubbing his eyes again, thankful that the nightmare was fleeting from his mind. “My God, it just seemed so real.”

  Julie slid her hand across Peter’s stomach as she rested her head on his bare chest. “It’ll pass quickly enough. Until then, we should start to think about food. Skipping dinner last night and heading straight for dessert has left me famished,” she said with a giggle.