The Nick of Time

by Mike Parker

  “No way!” she protested. “If I do that you will be left here alone until you teleport to some other random place where we will never be able to find you.”

  “Too bad,” Nick responded resolutely. “If you override, I will still teleport when my thirty-six hours is up. That will leave you here for another twelve hours and I don’t expect General Happy-Pants to be in a real good mood once he discovers one of his prisoners has escaped.”

  “I can manage for twelve hours and then follow you,” the reporter declared.

  “Even if you make it through the twelve hours, you could be miles away from here when your recall comes. Which means, who knows how far away from me you might end up.”

  “I can track you. It may take time but I can do it. I am not leaving without you.”

  “Well,” Nick said, realizing he was not going to win this debate, “let’s just worry about trying to survive long enough to have to make that choice.”

  “Agreed,” Ainsley replied. “Clearly we are in the days not long before the Battle of the Alamo begins.”

  “And the General thinks we’re working for the other side. Is there any way to convince him otherwise?”

  “Possibly,” the reporter said thoughtfully. “Santa Anna was known as much more of an opportunist than an idealist. So, we just have to offer him a better alternative than us being Texan spies.”

  “How hard can that be?” Nick chuckled.

  The time travelers spent most of the day alone in the tent discussing possible alternative narratives they might offer their captor when he returned. They received a tin plate of rice and beans for lunch and again for supper as well as escorted trips to the latrine every three or four hours. Around dusk a soldier came in and lit a small lantern on the wooden table, making sure it was far out of the prisoner’s reach. The large torches outside cast silhouettes of the four soldiers, one on each side of the tent, guarding the prisoners and ensuring there would be no escape or attempted rescue. After managing to awkwardly slide down the pole the pair did their best to get some rest overnight despite still having their hands tied behind their backs.

  In the morning, there was a brief discussion over whether or not Ainsley should override her recall or not, but since it was her hand on the button, not Nick’s, there was never much doubt about how it would turn out. The discussion was interrupted by their morning portion of rice and beans. It wasn’t long after when Santa Anna came in to interrogate them again.

  “Are you ready to tell the truth yet?” the general asked, sitting once again behind the wooden desk.

  Nick glanced at Ainsley looking for confirmation that they were going to go ahead as planned. She gave a small smile and nod. “Yes, sir,” he said.

  “Very well,” Santa Anna declared, “You are Texans spies.”

  “No!” Nick objected. “That is not the truth.”

  “Really,” the general said curiously. “And what is the truth?”

  “We were sent by Jim Bowie,” the time traveler explained, “But we are not spies.”

  “Then what are you?”

  “We are here to ask you under what terms you would accept a truce.”

  “A truce?” Santa Anna said with disgust. “Why would I accept a truce with a man like Jim Bowie?”

  “The Texans are scared of you sir,” Nick began, trying to flatter the general as much as possible without appearing disingenuous. “They know it’s just a matter of time before your army retakes the land that rightfully belongs to Mexico.”

  “They do, do they?” the Mexican asked with a sly smile.

  “Of course they do. Everyone does. But Bowie and the rest of the Texan leaders want time to sell off their land and move their families north before you invade.”

  “What do I gain from this?” Santa Anna inquired sounding genuinely interested in the proposal.

  “Bowie will pay you in gold if you promise not to invade for two more years. In return, he will ensure that when you do invade the resistance is light and your losses are minimal. You end up defeating Texas, easily, and you walk away with a big old chest of gold.”

  “How much gold?”

  “That is why we are here, sir,” Nick stated with a small grin. “We’re here to ask, ‘How much gold would it take?’”

  “I will consider your offer,” the general stated.

  “That’s wonderful, sir,” the time traveler responded, “but I should let you know that if we – both of us – don’t return to the Alamo by sunset with your response the deal is off.”

  “I will consider your offer,” Santa Anna repeated seeming offended by the final demand. “And I will decide if, and when, you leave this camp.”

  After the general marched out of the tent, Nick looked over at his companion and with a sheepish grin said, “I think that went well.”

  The general returned after lunch and stared intently at his two captives. “If I accept your offer, what do you require?”

  “Just sign a letter stating your agreement and naming your price,” Nick answered. “Then point us in the right direction, give us a few provisions for our trip and we’ll deliver your letter into the hands of Jim Bowie ourselves.”

  “Very well,” Santa Anna agreed.

  He sat down at the table and scribbled out a letter with the terms of the deal. He called the guards to release the prisoners and supply them with water and some fruit. After sealing the letter and handing it to Nick, the general stood close and glared into his eyes.

  “If this is a trick,” he warned. “I will hunt you down and make you pay. Then I will bring the full force of my army against Texas. I will level the Alamo and I will show mercy to no one.”

  “Understood,” Nick said swallowing hard.

  General Santa Anna released the two time travelers, who wasted no time getting as far away from the camp as they could. In the late afternoon, they came across an old brick house that appeared to have been deserted for some time.

  “Let’s stop here,” Nick suggested. “My time is almost up and you will need a safe place to lie low until morning.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Ainsley agreed. “Do you think we messed up history today?”

  “I don’t think so,” her friend responded. “After all, what’s the worse that could happen? Santa Anna realizes we double-crossed him and puts a price on our heads, but it’s not like anyone’s going to find us.”

  “But what about the Alamo?” the concerned reporter asked.

  “Are you kidding? They’ve got Jim Bowie, Buck Travis, Davy Crockett and a bunch of others. That’s like having Chuck Norris, Schwarzenegger, and Jason Bourne. And what did the Mexicans have in that camp? Two, three hundred men tops? There’s no way Texas loses that fight!” Nick declared confidently.

  “I hope you’re right,” the reporter said.

  Half an hour later the Little Bird began beeping and a minute after that Ainsley Ryan found herself sitting alone by a small fire waiting anxiously for morning to come.

  – 26 –

  My Name is Barry

  Nick surveyed his surroundings. It didn’t seem like he had traveled very far in time, maybe fifty years or so, but distance was another matter altogether. He stood on a street corner waiting impatiently for his companion to join him. Unless something had gone terribly wrong, she should be arriving very soon and very close by. Thankfully this time there were no cliffs to fall off.

  “Good day, ol’ chap,” a passerby greeted.

  “Good day,” Nick answered as he watched the man continue down the street.

  “Watcha lookin’ at?” a voice asked from behind him.

  “Just a regular old bloke, apparently,” he answered.

  “Wow! Would you look at this place!” the wide-eyed reporter gasped. “We’re in England!”

  “Yep, it looks that way. Judging by the tower over there I’d guess London,” Nick suggested nodding toward the fortress rising above the buildings several blocks away.

  “This is incredible!” Ainsley
cheered. “Now this is a place I could spend some time in.”

  “Well, you’ve got two days to check it out. Where would you like to go first?”

  “We should likely figure out what we’re going to do for money,” she suggested. “And clothes.”

  “Good point. Let’s look around and see what we can find.”

  The pair walked down the street looking for some opportunity to find food, clothes, or local money. Nick still had some cash left over from Dallas 1963, but that wasn’t going to do them much good in 1880s England.

  “Over there,” Nick whispered pointing to an assortment of clothes hanging to dry behind a launderer. The two snuck around the building and each pulled several items off the line that appeared to be their size. They moved to the back corner of the lot and took turns changing into time appropriate garments while the other kept a look out for the laundry workers.

  “Now what?” Nick asked.

  “There is a church down the street, they might be able to give us some food or money,” the reporter suggested.

  “May I help you?” the priest greeted them a few minutes later.

  “Yes, my name is Sonny and this is my sister Cher,” Nick introduced themselves in the best English accent he could muster.

  “Pleasure to meet you,” the priest smiled. “My name is Father Thyme.”

  “Seriously?” the time traveler asked incredulously.

  “I’m afraid so,” the priest chuckled. “How may I help you two?”

  “We have just come into the city today,” Ainsley explained. “We took over the family farm when our parents passed, doing the best we could to keep things afloat. Things were going okay until this year when our crops were devastated by blight, and we could not pay the landowner his rent. He chased us out of our home with nothing but the clothes on our backs. Is there any way you could find the charity in your heart to help us out with some food?”

  “Certainly my child,” the priest smiled warmly. “Go down to the Fog & Whistle just two blocks that way. Go to the kitchen door and ask for Sally Smythe. She is one of my faithful parishioners. Tell her I sent you and she will get you some food and she will take care of you.”

  “Thank you so much, Father,” the reporter replied.

  “Do you have a place to stay tonight?”

  “No, not at the moment,” Nick answered.

  “Well,” Father Thyme offered, “The rectory has a small spare room in it. You are welcome to it until you find a place to call your own.”

  “Thank you,” the pair said in unison.

  They walked down the street and found the Fog & Whistle Pub right where the priest had said it would be. Once they mentioned that the priest had sent them, Mrs. Smythe was happy to offer them some eggs and bread. When their meal was done the pub owners suggested that if they were willing to wash all the dishes from the morning and lunch rush, she would pay them for their work. As much as they were eager to get out and see the town they both agreed the next day or two would be a lot easier with a little coin in their pockets.

  Nick and Ainsley finished up their work and received a bowl of soup and a scone on the house before moving out into the city to explore. After the time they had spent with Santa Anna, this was virtually paradise. As they walked along they came across a young boy standing on a street corner selling newspapers.

  “He looks like something right out of a picture, doesn’t he?” Ainsley said. As a reporter herself, she could not resist buying a copy of the paper for a souvenir.

  “What is that?” Nick gasped reading the cover page. “Whitechapel murderer strikes again?”

  “Whitechapel murderer?” his companion gasped. “I’ve heard about him. He was a serial killer who killed dozens of women and was never caught.”

  “Let’s try to avoid him tonight, shall we?” Nick suggested.

  “Or maybe we shouldn’t.”

  “Are you insane? We’re not sparring with a serial killer. No way.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” the reporter conceded. “I just thought…”

  “I know, you thought you could help,” her friend said empathetically. “I’d like to help too, but it’s just too dangerous. Not only could you get hurt, but we don’t have Carl’s algorithm to tell us how that might affect the timeline.”

  The time travelers walked around town soaking in all the sights and sounds the city had to offer. After a light evening meal at a quaint little café, the two began to wander back toward the church, enjoying the peace and quiet of the night. At one point, Nick covertly pulled out his phone and took a picture of a man on stilts walking along the street lighting lamps. “There’s something you don’t see every day,” he commented.

  They were only a few blocks from the rectory when they passed a dark alley and heard a commotion. They did their best to peer down the dim lane but could see nothing. Nick once again pulled out his phone and clicked on the flashlight app. He shone the light into the darkness which at first appeared to be empty

  “Careful Nick,” Ainsley insisted as her friend took a few cautious steps down the alley.

  Suddenly a man jumped up from behind a pile of crates and lunged toward him. Nick instinctively raised his arms and inadvertently blinded the men momentarily. He stumbled back a few steps and then swept the cape he was wearing in front of his face, blocking out the light. The man turned and raced down the lane away from the time travelers.

  “Did you hear that?” Ainsley asked in a concerned voice.

  “Hear what?”

  “It sounds like someone moaning,” the reporter stated stepping cautiously down the alley. Nick followed with his light and they approached the crates. “Nick!”

  Nick directed the light to the ground where the man had first appeared. There was a woman lying motionless next to the crates. Nick leaned down next to the body and reached out to check for a pulse on the woman’s neck.

  “Do you know how to do that?” Ainsley asked.

  “No,” he replied tensely, “but what else am I supposed to do?” As Nick touched the woman’s neck, her body jerked away from his hand. “Whoa, whoa. It’s okay. We’re not going to hurt you.”

  The woman slowly sat up and looked around dizzily. “Who are you?”

  “We’re here to help,” the reporter said gently.

  The woman staggered to her feet with help from the time travelers. “Thank you. You saved my life.”

  “Who was that man?” Nick asked.

  “It was him,” she trembled. “It was the Whitechapel murderer.” With that, she staggered out of the alley and down the street without looking back.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Ainsley pleaded.

  “I’m right behind you.”

  The pair returned to the church and settled into their room in the rectory. It did not take long until they were both sound asleep. The next morning, they were awakened by a knock on the bedroom door.

  “I’ve prepared some breakfast for you downstairs,” the priest called through the door. “It’s not much, but you are welcome to it. Come down whenever you are ready.”

  “Thank you, Father,” Ainsley called back. “It’s almost time,” she told Nick.

  “Did you tell Carl why we haven’t returned?”

  “Yes, I explained it all from Mexico, although I can’t imagine he’s very happy about it.” Just then, the Turtle Dove beeped. Ainsley pressed the override button and her most recent message was sent back to her brother and Doctor Stevens. A minute later a new incoming message was downloaded.

  “Hey sis,” Carl’s voice greeted. “Glad to hear that you’ve finally caught up with Nick. Can’t say I’m thrilled about the two of you not coming straight home though. I’m not sure what you think you can accomplish by randomly hopping through time that wouldn’t be just as easy to do from here. On the other hand, you may be right about staying hidden from the saboteur. We have yet to learn anything new about who disabled the synchrotron or why, other than the fact that whatever they did to it, they did
right on the other side of the wall from Nick’s desk on the beamline that comes into our lab. Looking less and less like coincidence all the time if you ask me. Anyways, that’s all we know at the moment, but we’ll keep digging. Stay safe out there. Take care of each other. Come home soon.”

  “Is that it?” Nick asked.

  “Yep, that’s all there is,” she replied. “Wait a minute.”

  “What is it?”

  “There is a second message,” the reporter stated, sounding surprised.

  “Well, go ahead and play it.”

  “Greetings Mr. Jones and Ms. Ryan,” an unfamiliar voice said. “I’m sure you are surprised to hear from me. My name is Barry and as hard as it might be for you to believe, I am from the year 2042. I know you have no reason to trust me, but I need you follow my instructions. I know you have been jumping all over time, randomly so it would seem. You need to keep going. Do not return to your lab. If you continue to leap through time you will eventually end up here. You must end up here and when you do, you need to find me. It is critically important that I talk to you face to face. I need to explain…”

  “What happened?” Nick asked.

  “I don’t know,” the reporter answered. “It’s like it was cut off or something.”

  “Who is this guy and how does he know what we’re doing?”

  “I have no idea who he is,” Ainsley replied. “But if he really is from 2042, as he claims to be, then everything we’re doing, including our return to the present, whenever that might happen, will be history to him. For all we know, it could be as easy as looking up time travel on Wikipedia.”

  “So if this guy knows all about us, he should be able to steer us in the right direction.”

  “If we can trust him,” the reporter noted. “If everything we’ve done is recorded history to this guy, he could be trying to help us out…”

  “Or he could be trying to manipulate us into doing something different so he can change the past,” Nick concluded.

  “Exactly,” Ainsley said. “So what do we do now?”

  – 27 –

  Behind the Fog