[2013] Life II

by Scott Spotson

  Upon hearing the last sentence, Lucinda calmly but swiftly pulled out her handgun from inside her vest. She aimed it straight at Dr. Time’s heart. “Tell me your plans to conquer Earth,” she commanded.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Lucinda’s eyes jerked over to Max. “Take out your gun.”

  Max gulped down hard. His head throbbed, wondering what to believe and what not to believe. He was sure both women saw the terror and confusion on his face. Hesitantly, he reached behind his back and pulled out the weapon. He didn’t aim it anywhere, but held the muzzle pointed down to the ground.

  “Max,” Lucinda said, “your gun is loaded. All you need to do is pull the trigger when the time comes. And don’t hesitate. Earth depends upon it.”

  Dr. Time scoffed. “This violence does not advance your purposes.”

  “Shut up!” Lucinda shot back at her. She squinted hard at Dr. Time, taking slow, methodical breaths as she fingered the trigger. “One more command. Set up the Time Weaver to send me into the future, to precisely twelve noon, Philippines Time, on September 15, 2050.”

  “What?” Max yelled, blinking several times in confusion. “Why?”

  Lucinda continued. “Mr. Thorning here will monitor you while you do so. My instructions to Mr. Thorning are to shoot you after I’m gone, and then, when you’re dead, to destroy the Time Weaver.”

  Max shuddered. Lucinda’s bloodthirsty gaze as she wedged the gun butt against Dr. Time’s skull was the coldest thing he had ever seen. He had wanted to believe her. He had wanted to help out. Shit, I’d wanted to exact revenge on Dr. Time too, for stranding me in a life where I can’t get back to my children. Yet, all of that fell away in an instant as he watched Lucinda’s meltdown.

  “You’re insane, Lucinda!” Max shouted.

  Lucinda snarled. “If you don’t do what I tell you, I’ll have to shoot you.” She swiveled quickly and pointed the gun at Max.

  Dr. Time intervened. “Ms. Cedrera, you know very well that the Time Weaver can’t record the future. Without any record, it is impossible for anyone to travel through Time into the future.”

  Lucinda swung the gun back to Dr. Time. “Really? You’re lying. You can travel to the future. If you don’t do what I say, on the count of three, I will shoot you.”

  Dr. Time stood her ground defiantly. “I dare you to do it.”

  Lucinda didn’t budge. She didn’t even begin counting. She moved the muzzle to Dr. Time’s chest and pulled the trigger. Max, turning his head to look away, recoiled at the deafening explosion that rang out in the room.

  When he looked back, Dr. Time’s face was engulfed in smoke. Lucinda had shot Dr. Time in the heart.

  Chapter Eighty-Two

  January 2, 2011 at 10:59 a.m.

  Dr. Time looked shocked as the bullet slammed into her. As Max watched her rocket off her feet, he leaped back, covering his face from the splatter of blood. As Lucinda lowered the gun, amazingly Max saw that not a drop was splashed anywhere, and Dr. Time was still alive, apparently unharmed. However, there was a smoking hole inside her left lab coat pocket.

  “Bulletproof vest?!” Lucinda screamed out. She aimed her gun again, and took a shot at Dr. Time’s forehead.

  “Lucinda! No!”

  Max gasped in shock when he heard a ping on the floor from the bullet dropping. Dr. Time appeared cross-eyed as she examined herself. She placed a finger on her forehead, rubbing the impacted area. Once again, she remained unharmed, not a drop of blood anywhere.

  “Max, she’s an alien!” Lucinda hollered out.

  “We know that!” he screamed back.

  Lucinda lunged furiously at Dr. Time. But instead of leaping at her, she dropped to the ground, automatically reaching for a combat knife from inside her vest. In one rapid move, she sprang to her feet and stabbed Dr. Time on the bicep of her left arm. But the weapon wouldn’t go through the skin.

  For the first time, Max saw a look of pure horror on Lucinda’s face, as she dropped her knife on the floor.

  Dr. Time grabbed the initiative then. She seized Lucinda’s knife arm; Lucinda grunted with pain. She tried to swing her arm and deliver a knockout blow to Dr. Time’s face, but the alien anticipated the move and disabled her attacker with an elbow to the head.

  “Stop!” Max cried out, unable to do anything else.

  Dr. Time snatched Lucinda up by the neck and elevated her off the floor by a distance of two feet. Dr. Time’s strength was so formidable, it appeared as if she was merely lifting an object to examine against a ceiling light. Lucinda screamed and gasped for breath, clawing away at Dr. Time’s iron grip.

  Max stared at the scene in front of him. He had this gun in his hand, but was hesitant to use it.

  Dr. Time solved Max’s dilemma. In a rage she dropped Lucinda back down on the floor. Lucinda rolled away and then crouched, trembling, unsure what to do next.

  Dr. Time whirled around, and looked at Max. “Go ahead and shoot me, if you like.”

  Max threw his gun to the floor. His entire body was shaking. He locked eyes with Lucinda, whose mouth was frozen in an oval of shock. She pulled her knees up to her chest and sneered at Dr. Time. “You may have won this time. But I command you to send me back into Time.”

  To Max’s surprise, Dr. Time said, “As you wish, Lucinda.”

  She went to retrieve the silver cube.

  Lucinda’s eyes were wild with hatred. “Each time I go back into time, I become stronger and stronger.”

  Dr. Time smiled back. “Maybe. But as Dr. Thorning has found out, you are fighting Time itself. Do it too many times, and you’ll slowly go insane. Isn’t that right, Max?”

  Max rubbed his aching head, and nodded. “She’s right, Lucinda. It’s hard to re-live your life over again. Second by second, it drains you away. You can play with Time, but you can’t fight it.”

  Lucinda snapped, “I don’t need lessons from either one of you.”

  Dr. Time moved methodically to set up the Time Weaver. Soon the Time Weaver and its throbbing colors filled the room.

  “State destination, date and time,” said Dr. Time.

  “Same as before. 3:07 p.m., Juan Rizi 60, Manila, Philippines, September 15, 2005.”

  “Max,” Dr. Time said, almost fondly, “We don’t have a lot of time left. If you want to ask me anything, ask me now. I know you’ll retain the information for only a few moments, but at least you’ll have the satisfaction.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Lucinda’s going back to September 15, 2005,” Dr. Time explained. “At the time you’ll be wherever you will be on that date. You’ll have no memory of this meeting. But you’re not going back into Time. Lucinda is. She will carry the memories of today. I am saying that during your timeline, you’ll not be meeting her. It’ll be like nothing happened. This timeline will be irrelevant.”

  “The person who controls Time is the victor!” Lucinda shouted. “And I am the victor!”

  “But I control the Time Weaver,” Dr. Time replied. “You can’t do it without me.” She finished up by turning to Max. “Any last requests?”

  “Yes,” Max said. He cleared his throat. He looked in Dr. Time’s eyes and saw his last chance there. “It’s about my children. Brandon and Angela. I—‘”

  Lucinda sharply interrupted, “Stop stalling. Send me back to the past.”

  Dr. Time forced her eyes to focus on Max. “It’s been nice meeting you, Max Thorning. I do hope you’ll stop by for a visit. But please, don’t travel through Time and change the timeline.”

  Max could see that her eyes were damp and shiny with compassion. He returned the look and said, “Goodbye, Dr. Time.”

  She nodded and turned to the Time Weaver. It showed the interior of a small Catholic church. Ten people, all Filipino, were praying. Max searched, and spotted the younger Lucinda in the second row. She was on the kneeler bar, praying, in a very pensive mood.

  “Oh Lord,” said the present-day Lucinda, seeing
her younger self and quickly crossing herself and closing her eyes, “I have come back to answer my duty.” She walked over to the spot where her image lay, and then glanced around, checking to make sure that she was fitting in perfectly.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” Dr. Time said.

  Lucinda closed her eyes, deep in concentration. She kept crossing herself and opening her eyes to the giant cross ahead of her for inspiration.

  Dr. Time took advantage of the lull to have a whispered side conversation with Max. “You did very well, Max,” Dr. Time said admiringly. “I’m very sorry about the things you lost in your previous life. I assure you I meant you no harm in your travels.”

  Max found himself processing dozens of random thoughts at once, all based upon his lessons learned from Life II. He was still conscious of his surroundings, but not fully engaged. Unsure what to say next, the two observed Lucinda repeating her prayers in Filipino. Then with his head down he did something he’d never done before, in any of his lives. He made the sign of the cross over his chest, and blessed Lucinda.

  Nothing happened.

  “Try again,” said Dr. Time.

  Lucinda nodded, and raised her head to the shimmering image. Shafts of light streamed across her face. “Oh Lord, take me now,” she intoned. Then in a sudden void as black as night she disappeared.

  Max gasped, but what he saw in the next split second shocked him even more.

  Glancing aside at Dr. Time to see her reaction, he nearly screamed as he saw her face dissolve into million of swirling particles. Her arms, her torso, her lab coat too—all vanished into nothingness. His head jerked back as the cavernous room, too, evanesced into billions and billions of tiny soot-like particles, all flying past his face like a hurricane. The buzzing noise grew so loud that he thought it would tear apart his body.

  Thanks to Lucinda’s journey back into Time, his current timeline was disintegrating. As the male Dr. Time had predicted, the January 2, 2011 Time wave was phasing out in favor of the new Time wave.

  Now Max had no lungs left to let forth a scream loud enough to wake the dead. He looked at his hands and his arms—they, too disappeared—their cells disassembling and running off to join the chaotic melee of everything disappearing, all at once.

  Then the current version of Max’s existence vanished and he become no more.

  Chapter Eighty-Three

  November 15, 2010 at 8:39 p.m.

  Max was at home, seated at his computer. He clicked into the search engine on his computer, “time weaver.”

  There were dozens of results. Max scanned them all. Nothing of importance.

  To his left, he saw a memorandum titled, “People’s Republic of China Import Duty.” He had to do a briefing on it with Selwyn tomorrow.

  Margaret walked into the home office. “Hi, Max. Want to go for a walk?”

  Max thought it over. Why not?

  “Yes, it’s a good time.”

  He shut off the light in his home office as he left. Rays of bluish light intermittently stabbed the darkness as the computer sat all alone, blinking out of protest at being abandoned.

  Chapter Eighty-Four

  August 30, 2013 at 10:14 a.m.

  The bad dreams Max had experienced were all gone now. The nightmares that had once torn and ripped Max’s brain into shreds faded, as if somebody had opened the doors in his mind wide open and let them be free. All the old ghosts were quiet now. Max couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept this well actually. Years, he thought. Decades, maybe. Each night when he lay his head on his pillow he waited for the dreams to return, but they never came.

  The weight of all his past lives had sunk away, leaving Max feeling as if he’d been erased from his old guilt and sins.

  Standing at the security gate at the Toronto airport, Max checked his cell phone for the exact time. Then he turned to his sons Kyle and Peter.

  “Is it okay if we chat for five more minutes, before you go?” Max asked them.

  “Sure, Dad,” replied 16-year-old Kyle.

  Max grinned. “Hey, I just wanted to say, it’s been another fantastic summer with you guys. I keep thinking you’ll get older next year and you won’t want to come see me anymore.”

  15-year-old Peter piped up, “Hey, c’mon, Pops, never! We love these summers with you.”

  Max nodded, and put his arms on both of his sons’ shoulders. “Awesome.”

  Max stood, beaming. His sons were big now. Kyle was a shade taller than Max, and Peter was catching up fast.

  Kyle leaned in closer. “Besides, you do things that dads do. Stuff that we never get to do with Mom.”

  Max blanched. He recalled the struggles he had with them—while they both were out on motorbikes on dirt paths upon forests and farmland surrounding their home—to please respect the evening curfew, and to wear their helmets and remain safe. Still, it was better than them wasting so many hours on video games.

  “Yea-ahh...” Max drawled, careful not to allow his sanguine mood to be disturbed.

  “And you let us shoot BBs out in the forest!” Kyle added.

  “Yeah!” Peter chorused, “Shit, Pop, Mom never lets us do that.”

  “Watch your language,” Max shot back. Then he shot Peter a wicked smile. “Fuck it. Just don’t tell Mom I let you guys talk like that.” Max held his palm to one side of his mouth and pretended to whisper conspiratorially.

  Kyle chuckled and slapped his father on the back. “Aw, Dad. We’re ribbing ya!”

  Peter piped in, “Yeah, and besides. We like Margaret, too. She’s always really nice to us.”

  Kyle jumped in. “When are you ever going to get married?”

  “Soon,” said Max, who honestly still didn’t know. “Soon.” He grew serious. “Have you guys thought about what you want to do in terms of a career?”

  The two brothers looked at each other. Kyle shrugged. “I know I want to be a doctor, just like you.”

  Max caught his breath. Suddenly he found himself standing tall. Holy cow, he thought. In Life I, I never heard of any of my nieces or nephews being interested in being a doctor. He wished he could freeze a moment in his life like this, and just keep it somewhere, suspended. He locked eyes on both of his sons. Then with a sigh he checked his cell phone. “Well, time for you guys to go.”

  They gave each other one last hug. Max had taught his sons not to worry about man-to-man hugs, and made sure that they always gave him a firm one. They waved goodbye to Max as they went through the security gate.

  As soon as they were gone Max dropped his eyes and sighed.

  God, I love these boys so much. They were part of him, now, forever, no matter what timeline they were part of. They were his. Yes, despite all the grief they gave him this summer—teenagers! —it was still a memorable, fulfilling time together. This life is so precious, he realized. He started walking off, down the concourse, then turned to see if they’d looked back for him. He kept walking, then turned back for one last glimpse. Finally Max nodded and turned away and walked off, a little faster.

  Chapter Eighty-Five

  October 26, 2013 at 6:16 p.m.

  Bill Thorning’s long-time partner, Lesley, had a lovely Cape Cod-style home on the hills on North Vancouver, with a breathtaking view of the ocean. And that was where Max chose to host—with their permission, of course—his “Eve of Farewell to Life II” party.

  Life II would end tomorrow, after Max and Margaret took the plane home back to their home in Ontario. But with so many of Max’s close friends and family still based in Vancouver, it seemed more logical to choose Vancouver as the venue.

  Only Max and Margaret knew the exact raison d’être for the party. It was their secret.

  To everyone else, it was just that—a get-together, an excuse to meet close family and friends, have fun, and sip booze while gazing out at the twinkling bright lights of Vancouver. Lesley’s backyard sloped precariously, framed by tall cedars so thick that they seemed to snuff out any possible exit. Lovely willows domin
ated the end of the backyard, so far down from the deck that the party-goers could see the treetops from above.

  Max stepped out on the backyard patio and called for everyone to assemble into the resplendent living room. Once there, like a young boy, he hopped—he had socks on—onto an ornate wooden chair so that he could command everyone’s attention. He grinned as he scanned the vicinity and saw Uncle Selwyn, who had also made the trip from Toronto. There was also his sister, Jenny, along with her youngest child, Alex, who was now a towering 17-year-old young man, wiry in appearance. Jenny’s two older children—Alex’s sisters—couldn’t make the celebration tonight.

  His mother—Mabel—was standing by the sofa, martini in hand, chatting with her former roommate, Rona. At the other end of the room, Bill and Lesley gazed upward at Max with pride.

  His teenage sons, Kyle and Peter, made their rounds, meeting everyone and grinning every time the remark “I can’t believe how much you’ve grown!” was said. If they collected a dollar for every time that line was uttered, they’d have enough to buy themselves dinner, and have some change left over, too.

  And there were many others crowding in front of him, enabling Max to gaze through a kaleidoscope of loved ones from his second timeline.

  “Attention! Hello!” Max shouted out, holding up his arms. He felt at the top of the world. Maybe he was.

  The chatter subsided and heads turned to face him.

  “Uh,” Max said, suddenly shy at all the attention. He perked up. “I wanted to thank you all for coming.”

  There was light but hearty applause.

  “You may be wondering why we hosted this party. Why now? My answer to you, is that we’re celebrating.”

  An expectant silence continued in the room.

  “We’re celebrating each other. Being together. We’re celebrating life!”