“No, none of that,” Wilmer answered.
Carver decided to join Tom on the fishing expedition. “What about any unusual headaches or sneezing fits?”
“No, I’ve felt great for the past few months. I’m sorry, fellas. I just don’t have the answers for you.” He had a gruff way about him.
“Don’t apologize. These are routine questions,” Kattic lied. “Do you have any theories on why you can suddenly see?”
Wilmer thought for a moment. “Well, I never been a religious man, but I think God wants me to see. I been in the dark for so long.” He smiled at his granddaughter.
“It really is a miracle,” Julia chimed in.
For a split second Carver imagined her spreading open her legs and running her hands up her thighs. “A miracle. Well, we’ll just leave it at that,” he responded with a smile, while rising from his seat. “I think we’ve got everything we need. Thank you for your time and enjoy those eyes!”
Julia walked the three men to the front door, and Carver let Tom and Kattic exit first. He turned to her and handed her his business card. “This may be forward, but, if you need anything, give me a call or text. I’d love to see more of you. You’re a very breathtaking young woman.” He was a master manipulator. He knew the trick was to put himself out there and make himself seem vulnerable. Most women found it impossible to resist his charms and that Cheshire smile of his.
She smiled, as he touched her upper arm.
“OK, I’ll see you,” Carver said.
“Bye.”
Carver stepped out the door and smelled the autumn air, full of strong scents of wildflowers and wheat. He met Tom and Kattic at the car, and they climbed inside.
On the way back to the station, Carver impressively lit three cigarettes at once and handed them out to his partners.
“What do you two make of this one?” Carver asked between puffs.
“It’s similar to the cases we’ve worked before. Could be caused by the same thing,” Tom said. “Though what the fuck that thing is, I haven’t the slightest.”
“I think you’re right, Tom. It is similar.” Kattic knew exactly what was happening. It killed him to have to sit back and wait for his partners to catch up. Over the past seven months he’d been slowly guiding them, pushing them to get to where he was. But he knew it wasn’t the time; he’d have to wait, just a little while longer, until things really picked up.
Chapter Five
Almost Like Magic
Jonathan, a young gifted college student, who studied primarily out of Denver, stepped onto an elevator and pushed the 5 button. He brushed his dark hair from his forehead and waited for the old machine to gear up.
The young man did his best to dress professionally, and it showed. His light gray button-up shirt brought out the blue in his necktie. His slacks were a bit long and had to be rolled up over his ankles. The shoes he wore were a shiny black, the toes and sides reflecting a bit of the burgundy carpet he stood on. He checked his face in the shiny metal that acted as a border to the button control panel. Seeing his bright blue eyes staring back at him, he smiled awkwardly.
The lift rose from the floor and carried him up. He glanced at his watch, a quarter to seven. No matter what time he left his loft, he always seemed to be fifteen minutes early getting to work. The morning sun would be up in about thirty minutes. He took a sip from his insulated cup. The elevator doors opened to a long hall that smelled of cleaning solution and chalk. Jon stepped out and approached nearby Room 302.
Upon entering, he found his boss scribbling some equations on a blackboard, hard at work of course. No different from any other day. The man’s graying brown hair was slicked back, and it was poofy and a bit curly. His long white lab coat covered most of his green collared shirt and black slacks, with multiple pens and a small flashlight in its front pocket. Sixty years of work showed in his calloused hands. Black-framed Buddy Holly glasses covered his green eyes and large untrimmed brows.
The floor in the laboratory was polished blue and white tile. Long counters with black surfaces and big sinks stretched all the way down one of the walls. Matching cupboards with glass doors hung just above, filled with beakers and tubes, solutions and cleaners. Several portable tables equipped with wheels were scattered around the workshop. Their surfaces held various pieces of equipment such as computers, tablets, old speakers and magnets, rolls of copper wire, screwdrivers and wrenches, clocks and even a degausser to neutralize magnetic fields.
The man stopped his calculations, pulled a tape recorder from his coat pocket and pressed Record, as he signaled Jonathan to join him.
“This is Dr. Gary Whittier. It is October 18, 1962. Here is test number 317.”
The doctor, suddenly seeming a bit jittery, approached a large silver metal egg and its four sections of rotating coils, each with different symbols sketched across their surface. He lined the symbols randomly, jotting down the selected shapes, as if it were a code. Then he placed his hands on both sides of the oval and applied a small amount of force, using his body’s electrical current to jump-start the device.
The scent of burning air and a loud electrical hum carried throughout the lab. The egg lit up blue, and the selected symbols illuminated yellow. The doctor adjusted his glasses and stepped away from the machine.
“Shouldn’t be long now,” he said, looking around his lab.
Jonathan glanced around as well, watching for a change. It was exactly the moment he had grown to love and fear, when working with the doctor. A flash caught their attention. On the ceiling, the blue-white bulbs that hung down in their large metal casings disappeared entirely, and the room’s light dimmed.
“It’s the lights!” Jonathan yelled.
“It’s taking them! Outstanding!” the doctor rejoiced.
Lit and unlit candles appeared, sitting in holders mounted halfway up the walls. The rolling worktables vanished from sight and were replaced with dusty old cardboard boxes.
“This used to be storage space, before I moved in!” Gary announced.
Approximately fifteen old metal desks with polished wooden finishes appeared on the far side of the lab, lined up facing a blackboard that hadn’t been there before.
“And before that a classroom?” Jon asked.
“Exactly!”
The two amazed observers watched a woman walk into the lab and cross their paths to the desks at the far end. Her high heels clicked on the floor, as her checkered black-and-brown dress clung to her slim figure. The curls in her brown hair bounced with her movements, as she held an advanced calculus book close to her breasts. She took a seat at one of the desks.
The doctor placed his hands back on the device, and it powered down. The woman disappeared, and, soon after, the candles followed, as the electrical hum of the silver metallic egg died down. The large warehouse lamps reappeared on the ceiling, bringing back the brightness of the room, while the rolling tables reclaimed their original positions within the lab. All was calm.
Dr. Whittier jotted down some notes on a legal pad. He then turned to converse with Jon. “At least three time periods just bled through—the woman from the forties, the candles predating her by possibly fifty years and the more recent boxes that I personally had to clear out of here seven years ago, when I opened the lab.”
The scientist took out his tape recorder and pressed Record. “I’m thinking the time device has been designed to be tamperproof. Maybe that is why I can’t seem to harness a single time period. I can’t stabilize it.”
“There may be a way to find out if we will eventually make time travel possible,” Jon said, as he grabbed a blank sheet of paper and a thick black marker.
“What are you thinking, Jon?”
Jon popped the cap from the writing utensil and wrote 7:07 a.m., 10-18-1962, the lab.
He held up the paper for the doctor to see, ripped off a piece of duct tape from a nearby roll and stuck the sheet to the man’s blackboard. “Right here, right now, we’re saying that, if w
e ever get the device to work in our favor, this is the time and place we will return to… 7:07 a.m., October 18, 1962, this lab. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Gary said, nodding, seeing the boy’s point.
The two of them stood in silence. At 7:07 this morning, that very moment would tell them if they were wasting the US Army’s time and money, and had been for the past seven years.
The government had commissioned the famed scientist just after the UFO had crashed in the woods near Sorrow’s Sky. Once the military scientists had determined that the craft was not only for intergalactic travel but for time travel as well, they had handed over the project to the doctor, who had a special background in physics and a whopping list of classified US projects under his belt.
The boy was smart. Gary quietly scolded himself for not coming up with the idea years ago. He checked his watch: 7:06:45.
“It’s peculiar how time can seem to slow down during certain moments, when really it is just our perception that changes,” Gary said.
“You nervous?” Jon asked.
“Anxious.”
The creaking hinges of the lab door opening made both men take notice, with racing hearts. A man’s hand attached to a dark blue sleeve, buttoned at the wrist, reached in and dropped a small package on the floor. The wooden door banged, as it was reintroduced to the metal frame in the wall. Jon gave Gary a confused look, then walked over and picked up the box.
“Open it up, son,” the doctor allowed.
Jon set it on the table next to the time device and untied the string that held it together. The package collapsed as the tie came apart in his hands. Inside was a single folded piece of paper. It simply read Think of the craft.
Chapter Six
A Day at the Fair
Julia sat in the passenger seat of Carver’s Chevy, while the radio played a soft classical song, full of piano. Her short black skirt clung to her legs while her blouse did its damnedest to conceal her large breasts. Carver snuck a peek from the driver’s seat to find the buttons that ran up her chest were working extra hard to stay clasped. He imagined his fingers freeing them of their duty and pulling the blouse from her body.
“So how long have you lived in Sorrow’s Sky?” Carver asked, as he turned the steering wheel and maneuvered the car onto a side street.
She smiled. “Not quite a full year. I just finished my courses at the community college here in town.”
“What did you study?”
“Business management. I’d like to run a restaurant in Denver.”
“That’s great.”
“Yeah, I’m planning on attending Colorado State this winter. I’ve already been accepted,” she said, as her eyes searched for his reaction.
“A great school for a great girl,” he blurted out. Immediately he silently reprimanded himself for the comment. She laughed, bless her heart.
“What about you? Have you lived here your whole life?” she asked.
“Yes, I grew up here. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.”
“It is beautiful here,” she said, her eyes fixed on the Gothic Revival homes just outside her window. Their steeply pitched roofs, grouped chimneys, pinnacles, battlements and oriel windows made her yearn for a place of her own.
Carver pulled his car into the community event center parking lot and found an empty space among the hundreds of cars already here. Most of the vehicles were from the early to midfifties; the Cadillac Eldorado sitting next to Carver’s vehicle was a shiny light blue and had its top down. Through the Chevy’s windshield, Julia saw a Ferris wheel, lit up brightly and rotating slowly, as the people in its carts sat peacefully. Julia exited the vehicle; her heart fluttered with anticipation as she walked to the front of the car, where her hand found Carver’s. Together they strolled toward the excitement of the city’s annual fair.
Upon entering the grounds, the smell of corn dogs, waffles, hot dogs and popcorn made Julia smile, as she hugged Carver’s entire arm. He could feel her breasts pressing up against his biceps, and, although he loved every second of their touch, he tried his best not to focus on it. People walked around with ice cream cones and snow cones, while young children ran and played with each other, and a rock band jammed live somewhere in the chaotic mess of booths—their music sounded dark with a light melody of piano cutting through it.
The happy couple passed by a mirror maze, a haunted house and a man on a dunking board who laughed as a girl tried unsuccessfully to trigger the switch with a softball. Carver let go of Julia’s hand and slid his fingers across the small of her back. It truly was a beautiful day.
“What the fuck?” a guy said from behind them. “This your new boyfriend, Jules?”
“Jared, don’t start,” Julia said, as Carver turned and locked gazes with the young man.
Jared stood with four other kids, all of whom looked to be in their early twenties, roughly Julia’s age. The wind tossed around the young man’s blond hair, as Carver focused on the scar above his right cheek. Jared’s shoulders were broad, and his eyes were beady and small. He wore a T-shirt and jeans and didn’t seem a bit chilled by the cool breeze.
“He looks like a bitch to me.” Jared stepped closer to his new rival and turned his stare to Julia. “And you still look like a slut.”
“OK, that’s enough! What’s your problem, kid?” Carver stepped closer to him. “Couldn’t hold on to her? Or was your dick too small for her?” he taunted.
“Please, she loved this dick,” Jared said, cupping it with his hand.
“We never even had sex!” Julia yelled, while Carver exploded with laughter. She clung to him, knowing something bad was about to happen.
Jared’s fist suddenly made contact with Carver’s face, just under his left eye. The hit immediately knocked him to the ground, skinning his elbows on the hard asphalt.
“God damn it, Jared!” Julia yelled. “You are such a psycho!” She knelt down to Carver, as he rubbed his eye.
Two Sorrow’s Sky police officers patrolling the fair stopped to help Carver to his feet.
“This ain’t over,” Jared said, as he immediately walked away upon the uniforms arrival.
“Hold up! Stop!” Chevez—a rookie street cop and friend of Carver’s—yelled to Jared.
Jared turned around, knowing he was caught. He stepped a bit too close to the cop. “Fuck you, spic. Why don’t you go back to Mexico? You and your partner!”
The officer spun him around and cuffed his wrists behind his back. “Looks like you’re going to jail, kid,” Chevez said.
“You need a medic?” the second cop, Gonsalves—another friend and seasoned officer—asked Carver.
“No, I’m all right. What the fuck was that guy’s problem? What a dick.”
“We broke up a few months ago,” Julia explained. “You can see why. Are you OK?” She pressed her body against Carver’s and kissed his cheek. He gripped her waist.
“I am now,” Carver said with a smile.
Gonsalves put his hand on Carver’s shoulder. “Let’s get you checked out by a medic. Looks like he opened you up a bit. You’re bleeding.”
***
After a quick ten minutes in the back of a parked ambulance, and the use of some alcohol swabs and a butterfly Band-Aid, Carver was ready to resume his evening with Julia, who stayed by his side the entire time. He thanked Chevez and Gonsalves, as Julia took his hand and led him back to the fair. His eye throbbed, but the cool breeze seemed to dull the pain. Julia brought Carver to the Ferris wheel. He watched her body, as she climbed in one of the carts. He followed close behind, reclaiming her hand in his, once he was seated. His eyes glanced down at her smooth legs.
“You cold?” he asked.
“You’ll keep me warm. Right?”
“Absolutely.” He rubbed the silky skin of her thigh, as she smiled. He had wanted to touch her legs from the first moment he met her, and, now that his fingers felt how smooth her skin was, his dick became fully erect. She, of course, had no idea but surely was
hopeful.
The ride pushed them forward, then came to a quick stop, waiting for the next set of people to climb aboard the rickety carts. As they made their way to the top, the small town came into view.
The church, with its castlelike appearance and stone structure, looked peaceful, as its backyard cemetery sat alone and quiet—the stones jagged and teetering from age and weather. The windows to the church were dark compared to the giant stained-glass lunette just below its bell tower. The yard was covered in green grass.
Giant hands ticked away on the old clock tower that stretched into the sky. Its gargoyles—looking evil with large spread wings—stared out over the town. The clock hands were positioned at two o’clock, and its facing looked yellow given the light.
Hundreds of old turn-of-the-century houses were scattered throughout the landscape, some with smoke billowing from their chimneys. A light fog, lit by the sun, flowed through the streets and into the lawns and alleys.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Julia asked.
“Not as beautiful as you,” Carver said, as he looked into her eyes and gave her a smile. He needed so badly to slide his hand under her skirt but knew it was too soon.
His lips touched hers, and they kissed. His heart raced as her tongue slipped into his mouth. He couldn’t have asked for a better first date.
Chapter Seven
We’re Not Finished
As the sun set in the western sky, Carver watched from his Chevy as Jared exited the community college and got into an old blue pickup. The engine roared, as the truck was put into gear; the taillights flashed, and the tires spun out a bit, then pushed the powerful vehicle from the lot and onto the main road, paved with bricks.
Carver was no stranger to a stakeout; he hunted college campuses on a regular basis. Though he was a bit more alert than usual, seeing as he wasn’t hunting a pretty little college girl. Jared had already laid him out once before. Carver put his car in Drive and crept from the lot, keeping a safe, steady distance from the truck. He watched Jared’s silhouette bouncing in his driver’s seat with the bumps of the road. It wasn’t long before his target turned onto a dirt road; the dust the truck left behind did well to conceal the Chevy’s position. After a few short minutes, Jared pulled off the road and parked in front of a long white trailer.
I Can Barely Breathe Page 3