Fate (Wilton's Gold #3)

by Craig W. Turner

  “But that’s no different from what we don’t know about what’s going to happen in 10, 20 years, right?”

  “I see a difference, though. We’re much more heavily involved in making it happen. The people of this time seem more that they’re going with the flow.”

  “These people had to build a country. We just have to keep it running.”

  “True.”

  Now there were more people on the road and more buildings to justify their presence. A few even nodded to them – Jeff would offer a tip of his hat. Erica, playing the dutiful wife of the 1830s, just followed along.

  After about a half-hour of walking, they were into the city proper and Erica began to recognize things – at least, she recognized them from the map that she’d memorized. A specific intersection. A circle. “We’re up here about another half-mile,” she said.

  “That’s pretty good,” Jeff said, complimenting her. She looked at him and he was smiling. “I have absolutely no idea where we are. Of course, I can say I’ve let my guard down because I trust you know what you’re doing.”

  “Where we are...” she said, thinking. “If you remember on the ride to the park we passed right by here. That circle is still there. There was a post office right here and a Starbucks on this side. The circle had a statue in the middle of it, though we drove by too quickly and I didn’t get to see who it was.”

  “Every circle in Philadelphia has a statue in the middle of it,” he said, laughing. “So the shop is this way?”

  “Yes, straight ahead.”

  “When did it burn down?”

  “In about three years, provided we’re where we’re supposed to be. A lantern was knocked over and, since the building was filled with papers, it went up quickly. Imagine the records, the history that was lost.”

  The street was fairly crowded now, with the business of 1831 happening around them. A farmer rode by on a wagon filled with squash and zucchini while a pack of young boys chased after him for a good thousand feet, laughing and waiting for something to fall off. The farmer shooed them away and kept on moving. Men and women dressed identically to them walked along the sides of the street, entering and leaving the buildings. Erica saw a blacksmith’s shop and had an overwhelming urge to tug on Jeff’s arm and beg him to take her inside.

  Soon, they came to their destination, the records office, which was still standing, confirming that they’d at least successfully made it to sometime before the fire in 1834. In her research, Erica had found a charcoal sketch of the entire street, and now that she could see it in real life, the artist’s depiction of the shop had been unbelievably accurate. “This is so exciting,” she said.

  Jeff reached for the door, but they were interrupted by a shout from the side. Somehow, someone was shouting their names. “Jeff, Erica!”

  She turned, looking down the street to see a most amazing sight: Dr. Jeff Jacobs running toward them.

  Neither of them could move.

  After a moment, he was in front of them, and took a moment to let out a heavy breath.

  “What is going on?” she asked. She looked at her traveling companion, who she could see was trying to sort things out in his mind.

  “Multiple versions,” Jeff said, mumbling to himself.

  “I need you to not go in there,” the newcomer said.

  “We have to,” Erica said, feeling like she was the one who needed to defend what they were doing because it was her idea.

  The new Jeff was shaking his head. “I can assure you, you don’t want to go in there. And you don’t need to go in there. All of your hypotheses about Dexter are right. You can just go on with the mission.”

  “But-”

  “You’ve been here before,” her traveling companion Jeff said.

  “I haven’t, no,” his doppelganger said, nodding. “But I know exactly what happens.”

  Jeff turned his attention to her. He was suddenly very serious. “We should trust him.”

  “But we need to-”

  He shook his head. “No. I don’t think I’m going to steer myself down the wrong path.”

  The other Jeff tried to stifle a laugh. When they waited for an explanation, he said, “Don’t bank on that every time. But this time you can trust me. There’s nothing in there you need.”

  Erica looked back to Jeff and could see in his eyes that it was advice he wanted to heed. “Okay,” she said slowly, nodding. “We just move on.”

  “Thank you,” Jeff said to him, then they turned to walk away. Erica thought she saw the other Jeff flash her a very warm and familiar smile before they left.

  “What do you think that was about?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, but I don’t think we’re supposed to know. Otherwise, he would have told us.” He walked a few paces in silence. “Multiple versions. Just fascinating.”

  “Yes,” she said, “but you already know there’s going to be another one of you in 1770.”

  “Oh, yeah. I didn’t ever expect to run into myself, though. That was insane.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “You know, I’m a pretty handsome guy,” Jeff said. “Now that I got to see everyone else’s perspective.” She looked at him and he was grinning.

  “Enough,” she said, laughing. “Let’s go rescue Dexter.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  Jeff watched them walk away, realizing he’d bumped into enough versions of himself that it wasn’t even anything of wonder anymore. Knowing what must have been going through his other self’s mind at the time based on Erica’s retelling of the story to him, he thought everyone had handled the interaction quite well.

  As they were destroying the contents of the lab, it had plagued him that his best friend’s life had been changed so dramatically. In fact, he’d been the only one who’d suffered a setback from all of the time travel experiments, and it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. Especially when Dexter mentioned having a wife. Dexter Murphy was not the marrying type – in fact, Jeff wondered how that had even happened. Just like in the Benjamin Kane scenario, someone had been wronged, and while there was such a thing as time travel, there was an opportunity to fix it. He hadn’t wanted to ask Fisher for help – in fact, it was the last thing he’d wanted to do. Even though he himself was comfortable with putting the device through one more mission to see if he could restore Dexter’s life to normal. Fortunately, he’d kept it from Erica. He didn’t know that she’d understand why he needed to do it. But he would come clean with her now that it was done.

  By his calculations, he’d just solved the problem. By stopping himself from preventing the fire that would now destroy the records house in three years, in theory, the museum would never be built, Dexter would never work there during college and would never become the director, and he’d never get married and buy a house in suburban Philadelphia. He would be back to being a stubbornly single historian and professor at Columbia. Just like Jeff liked him.

  That was in theory. He knew from experience that he could never predict with 100% accuracy how things would end up. He laughed as they disappeared down the street, though. From Erica’s story as she’d told him sitting in the Sierra Nevada forest, they had a long road ahead of them.

  Once they were gone, he made his way down the street and into an alley that still existed in his present day, where Agent Fisher, dressed as close to an 1830s commoner as Jeff could get him without Dexter’s assistance, was waiting for him.

  “Did you do it?” Fisher asked him.

  Jeff nodded. “We’ll see when we get back, but the situations that caused all of the changes to Dexter’s life has been rectified.” He pulled the last remaining time device from his pocket. It was his original, the metal stick without the bells and whistles of its future iterations. It had been through a lot, but somehow it kept working. When he’d created it, he had never intended for it to get the mileage it had gotten. Very good construction. Though he stopped when he noticed Fisher looking wistfully out past the opening of the alley, thinki
ng. “What is it?” Jeff asked.

  The agent half-shrugged, with a guilty smile on his face. “Can we walk around for a bit?”

  “Really?” Jeff asked, laughing, though Fisher’s enthusiasm didn’t surprise him. He’d been through the same irresistible scenario with brilliant scientists, renowned historians and an elite Russian spy. In one possible future, people would pay over a million dollars a pop to see their favorite time periods for a few hours. Time travel was exciting, there was no denying it. “It’s against my better judgment,” he said, “but okay. Half-hour, max.”

  Given the permission, Fisher inched out into the street with Jeff following. They quickly intermingled with the people on the street and became anonymous in the crowd.

  Since this would be his last time travel trip, as they walked Jeff took a few moments to consider what he’d accomplished. Like the Russia mission, it was something he could never take credit for. But there was a small group of them that would know, and they would stay close. With Emeka and Abby, he’d built a great relationship. Dexter was his best friend who would share a lot of his memories, but would never know what happened here. Agent Fisher? He had no idea if he’d ever see him again, but had a feeling they would be forever connected. And Erica... The woman who time travel had created... After they’d destroyed the lab, she’d headed back to San Francisco to pick up where her life had left off. Jeff knew that once he returned to his present time, the distance between them was something he wasn’t going to let linger.

  He pulled out the old school index card with coordinates on it and entered them into the device. Philadelphia of the 1800s dissolved from his vision and was replaced with the urban center of his present day.

  Since Jeff hopefully had no friends in the greater Philadelphia area now, he made his way to his car and headed back to New York City.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  October 4, 2015

  Dexter hadn’t decided yet if he was going to miss the adventure of time travel. The change was too new.

  On one hand, it was good to be back to work, sitting at his desk in his office at Columbia, looking out the window to the familiar view of New York’s Morningside Heights. He was trying to figure out how he was going to incorporate everything he’d learned from his time travel missions with Jeff into his existing body of work. Obviously, he couldn’t be blatant about it. But no other historian in the present time had had the opportunity to experience first-hand Colonial America, the Prohibition Era, and the California Gold Rush the way he had. There was a tangibility that he could now include in his studies that no reenactment could provide.

  On the flip side, the thrill of discovering new eras in history was gone, and it was actually disappointing. Despite the fact that he believed in the morality behind what Jeff had done, like a spoiled child, he wanted what he wanted. He’d actually spent the morning going through his journal of possible “missions,” wondering what each of the next scheduled missions would have been like. What would they have experienced had they actually gone and interrupted the famous Willoughby diamond heist in 1951? Who would they have encountered if they’d been able to intercept the mob’s armored car full of cash before it crossed the Detroit-Windsor border into Canada in 1937? Admittedly and understandably, he was a little worried about that one... But there were so many other questions. How many gold coins had been lost forever during the Indian massacre at Fort Pearson in 1713? And what other destinations were there for them to explore? None of it mattered anymore, of course, but given what they’d already been through, it was enticing food for thought.

  The book in his hand, housing all of their fantastical ideas for missions, was now a relic – one that had to be hidden from anyone outside of their circle forever. Probably, it should’ve been destroyed, but Dexter couldn’t bring himself to do that. The contents of the journal had had far too much impact on his life to just let it go. He would keep it under lock-and-key until the day he died. Then his wife and kids would have to deal with it. That was, if he decided to ever have a wife and kids.

  He flipped through the diary until he found the instructions he had left for Jeff in case anything had happened to them in Colonial America. Thank goodness he’d had the foresight to do so. It was ironic, and he thought, a stroke of genius, to have Jeff seek out Erica to help him conduct a rescue mission. It had been the right move, as she’d performed admirably in leading him to the right place, time, and strategy. On top of that, at the party the other evening he could clearly see chemistry between them. Whatever had happened when they’d time traveled to the future must have been important to their relationship. He’d known Jeff a while, and though admittedly he’d been engrossed in his work most of that time, he’d never seen him look at a woman the way he looked at Erica. He knew that she’d gone back to California, but he hoped it worked out. Then he could proudly carry the role of matchmaker, and he’d be paid up for Jeff coming to rescue him.

  He slid the book into the drawer he’d taken it from and locked it, hiding the key back in its place under the Abner Doubleday stein on his shelf. He considered that a safety deposit box would be more secure, and determined that sometime during the week he’d make the move.

  There was a knock on his door and he looked up to see his friend Dr. Jeff Jacobs standing there, leaning in from the hallway. He smiled and stood to greet him. The two exchanged a handshake and hug like they hadn’t seen each other in years, though it had only been less than two days since they’d all dismantled Jeff’s lab together. He’d taken yesterday to himself, getting out of the city for a few hours up to Bridgeport, Connecticut, where he liked to go walk by the water and look at the boats to relax. He’d felt he needed a getaway, and yes, it was a getaway from Jeff, as well. But now, as they looked to the next chapter of their lives, it was good to see him.

  Jeff took a seat in the visitor’s chair and Dexter sat behind his desk. “Back to the old grind,” he said.

  Dexter nodded. “Yes, I have a class going. But it’s going to take some time to figure out what my next project is. How about you? What’s your next move?”

  He smiled. “I’m going to California to get Erica.”

  “I thought that might be it. You sure she’ll be welcoming?”

  “Well, I won’t know if I don’t try.”

  He nodded and smiled. “I’m sure she will. What next, though?”

  Jeff sighed. “I have to get my other experiments up-to-speed, and quick. My next review is in January, and the GSA folks will actually be coming to my lab. Won’t be able to fudge this one. Or, at least, I won’t be able to fudge this one as much as I have in the past. The government has a knack for putting the wrong people in charge of things.”

  “Fortunate for us,” he said.

  “Yeah, for now.”

  Dexter leaned forward on his desk. “How about the gold? And the money?”

  Jeff adjusted himself in his chair, switching which leg was crossed. “The gold we’re going to give to the Smithsonian.”

  “Give it?” While he didn’t think it was the wrong thing to do, he was surprised.

  “Yes. With the stipulation that Erica gets at least one bar of it for her Gold Rush Museum. That’s got to happen.” He laughed. “We’ve got a truck full of cash. We don’t need to extort the Smithsonian for more.”

  Dexter sat back again and held up his hands. “Hey, I’m not arguing with you. I just didn’t expect you to say that. What about the cash?”

  “Well, you know what’s funny?” Jeff asked. “There’s a bunch of that money that hasn’t even been printed yet. So we can’t really use it any time soon, or put it in a bank or anything. So, my thought is, we’ll divvy it up and think of it as a retirement account that you can only tap into when it’s vested. Or when the money’s actually been printed. I do need some to replenish the till from my government grant, but then the rest – and there’s plenty, believe me – will be split among the team.”

  “Any idea how much is in there?”

  He shook h
is head. “Couldn’t tell you.”

  “And you’re okay with doing this? Given your new-found understanding of the dangers of time travel?”

  Jeff laughed. “Yeah. Had we only known... You know what? I thought about that. Of course it feels wrong what we did – we stole an armored car. But that money isn’t taken from anyone. All of the money in that truck over the next seven years will be earned and spent and traded and saved. And on whatever day it was that we took it, it’ll still be sitting there. If it had come from the past, yes, I’d have serious misgivings right now.”

  “Your logic is sound, if a bit skewed. You’ve finally come around,” he said, laughing.

  Jeff leaned forward. “Well, get this for skewed logic – I didn’t even take it. The other me did. The blood’s not even on my hands.”

  Dexter pointed at him. “Might be the best point you’ve made all day. The unwitting beneficiary. I love it.”

  Jeff shrugged. “It’s the best I can come up with. Plus, to make myself feel better, I’m going to start a science program at mine and Emeka’s high school. Get kids excited about science.”

  “Well, that’s good of you,” Dexter said. Jeff nodded. “When do you leave for California?”

  “The flight’s at 8 a.m. tomorrow.”

  “Are you going to tell her you’re coming?”

  “Does that sound like me?”

  He shook his head. “No, but I thought maybe you’d come to your senses.”

  “No chance.”

  “Alright, well when you get back, let me know and we’ll get together and start going through that money.”

  “No plans to get in the way of that?”

  “None. No relationship, no family stuff, no lawn to mow, nothing. Just call me and I’ll be there.”

  “Good. That’s what I was hoping would be the case. Dinner?”