The Nick of Time

by Mike Parker

  “Why is it called Express?” the reporter inquired.

  “All cars made since, like, the 30s are equipped with an auto-drive feature. Since then, they’ve been adding express lanes to all the interstate highways.” Will explained. “You just enter the on-ramp, your car syncs with the lane and, when there’s an opening, pulls you into traffic and you cruise along at ninety miles an hour until your reach your scheduled off-ramp.”

  “What if you run into the car ahead of you?”

  “Never happens. Every car is synced to the lane so they are all kept safely spaced apart. If there is an obstruction ahead or a vehicle stops, everyone behind them is automatically slowed to compensate.”

  “Fantastic!” Ainsley cheered. “Keep heading north.”

  “How far?”

  “I can’t really say,” Ainsley replied. “There’s still about a two-second delay between flashes which means we likely have at least a hundred miles yet to go.”

  The pair traveled on into the early evening. It became apparent that wherever Nick was, it was somewhere north of the Canadian border. They pulled off the I-5 Express about twenty minutes south of the immigration station.

  “Crossing the border is quick, I do it all the time,” the barista explained.

  “But?”

  “But they use retinal scans to identify you and thermal imagining to scan your vehicle.”

  “Sounds tough to sneak through,” the reporter observed.

  “That’s kinda the idea,” Will concurred.

  “Can’t you just drop me off a mile away and I’ll sneak across somewhere away from the border station?”

  “That may have worked 25 years ago, but not today,” the barista informed his passenger. “There is a laser grid fence across the length of the border. If anyone walks through and interrupts the laser beam, alarms, lights, and cameras turn on all over the place. You’ll be picked up by a drone in minutes.”

  “So what do you suggest?” Ainsley asked, feeling a tinge of hopelessness set in. “Theoretically, I should be around somewhere, but if I happen to be currently out of the U.S. it could be a little tough to explain.”

  “Yeah, and assuming you’re telling the truth about where you come from, I mean, when you come from, your data file will list you as being almost fifty,” the barista noted. “You don’t look fifty”

  “I should hope not!” the young woman exclaimed.

  “I have an idea, but you might not like it,” Will began. “Wait here.” The barista ran into a nearby gas station convenience store and returned a few minutes later. “Here you go,” he said handing her a bottle of lemon juice and a pair of sunglasses.

  “What am I supposed to do with these?”

  “Just before the border, squirt a couple shots of lemon juice in your eyes and then put the glasses on.”

  “Are you insane?” the reporter exclaimed. “That will hurt like…”

  “Do you want to get across or not?”

  “Yes, but how is burning my corneas going to help?”

  “We’ll tell them you are my sister Susan,” Will explained. “You could pass for her in a pinch. I’m taking you up to Vancouver to meet my girlfriend. They should have all my previous trips to see Erin on file, so it shouldn’t raise any red flags.”

  “Okay, but the lemon juice might feel like it’s scarring my retina but it won’t. So how’s that going to help us beat the scan?”

  “It won’t, but, if we’re lucky, when we tell them that you’ve just come down with a really wicked case of pink eye they will want to keep your eyes as far away from them and their equipment as possible.”

  “What other choice do we have, I suppose,” Ainsley agreed reluctantly. “Are you sure this won’t cause any permanent damage?” she asked removing the cap from the lemon juice.

  “I have no idea,” the barista honestly answered. “Maybe don’t over do it.”

  Will pulled the car back onto the I-5 Express and headed toward the Canadian border. About two miles out the car automatically pulled off the highway and returned to manual control. There was only a short line of cars waiting to pass through the immigration and customs station and after about fifteen minutes of inching their way ahead one car length at a time, it was their turn to be processed. Will pulled slowly ahead and rolled down his window.

  “Good evening, folks,” the border guard greeted, peering purposefully into the vehicle. “Where are you headed tonight?”

  – 32 –

  Nearly Closing Time

  “How are your eyes feeling?” Will asked sympathetically.

  “Getting better, thanks,” Ainsley replied. “The saline is helping. Thanks for picking it up.”

  “No problem,” the barista said cheerfully as they drove through downtown Vancouver. “Where to now?”

  “Looks like more or less straight ahead,” Ainsley answered glancing again at the lights on the Turtle Dove that were blinking quite fast now. “Toward the waterfront, I think.”

  Will continued driving down Burrard Street until driving any further would have put them into the Pacific Ocean. “Now what?”

  “It still says ahead and a little to the right. Guess we’re going on foot from here.” They found a place to park their vehicle and then walked along the oceanfront, following the Turtle Dove’s directions. “Up here,” Ainsley called out as she started up a large set of stairs heading to a building covered by giant white, metal sails. There were two large cruise ships moored on either side of the structure.

  “Man, I’ve always wanted to go on a cruise on one of these big ships,” Will said wistfully.

  “I was on one recently and trust me, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

  “Hmm. Ok. Why don’t you go left; I’ll go right,” Will suggested.

  “How will you know who you’re looking for?”

  “You’ve described him pretty well,” the barista answered, feeling surprisingly excited about this moment. “I’m sure I can pick him out. If I find someone who knows you I’ll lead him around to your side.”

  “Okay, good luck,” the reporter said veering off to the left side of the building. She was about halfway down the length of the structure when she was met by a security guard.

  “It’s nearly closing time, ma’am,” the guard said politely. “I’m going to have to ask you to head back the way you came.”

  “I’m just looking for a friend of mine,” Ainsley pleaded. “I was supposed to meet him here. I won’t take long I promise.”

  “I think I might know who you’re looking for. He’s right up there on the bench,” the guard replied. “I thought I was going to have to call my partner to come haul him out of here. He said he promised someone he’d meet them here and wasn’t leaving ‘til she arrived. You might save me a whole lot of hassle. You’ve got ten minutes to get him and be on your way.”

  “Thank you so much,” the time traveler cheered already jogging down the promenade. “Nick!” she called out.

  The man on the bench fifty feet away turned his head slowly to track down the sound. As soon as his eyes locked on the reporter’s silhouette moving toward him, he hopped up and sprinted in her direction. The two meet up and leapt into one another’s arms.

  “I thought I might never see you again,” Nick confessed.

  “I was worried you died on the Titanic,” Ainsley replied.

  “I know,” Nick said with a smile. “When I arrived here and saw them unloading the cruise ships I knew this would be the place you’d catch up with me.”

  As the pair started to walk back toward the street, the reporter inquired, “What happened back in 1912? How did you make it off the Titanic?”

  “I jumped,” Nick answered plainly. “After the back end of the ship fell back down to the water I knew she was all going down. I jumped off and swam for my life. The water was so cold – it ripped the air right out of my lungs.”

  “I saw them pulling people out of the water. Almost no one survived.”

  “I w
as lucky,” her friend answered somberly. “I came across a small barrel that was floating on the water’s surface. I couldn’t actually get up on it and out of the water, but I clung to it for dear life. I remembered Doc Stevens telling me, after my first teleport, that in cold water the more you struggle the quicker you lose heat, so I just tried to hang on long enough to teleport out.”

  “Obviously, you made it.”

  “Barely, I suspect,” Nick replied. “I knew I was about to pass out so I managed to lash my hands around the barrel with my belt. I was unconscious by the time the Little Bird pulled me out, but thankfully still breathing.”

  “And you came to in the wild west.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “You found him?” a voice called out from the end of the promenade. “Sorry, the security guard wouldn’t let me go down that side so I came back here to wait for you.”

  “Will,” Ainsley introduced, “this is my good friend Nick. Nick this is my new friend Will.”

  “Nice to meet you,” the barista greeted.

  “You too.”

  “Okay, so while I was standing here I noticed there was a hotel right across the street. How ‘bout we get you guys a room and then I’ll head over to Erin’s place. I’d invite you guys over too, but it’s a studio suite over in Kitsilano, so it’s got a single bed, a couch, live-stream screen and that’s about it.”

  “Thank you so much, Will,” Ainsley smiled gently. “I don’t know how I would have done this without you. Speaking of which,” she said turning her attention to Nick. “Where did you get new clothes from?”

  “Don’t ask,” her friend answered with an uncomfortable chuckle.

  A hot shower and a soft bed were welcome amenities at this stage of their journey and were likely among the main reasons they both got such a good sleep. Of course, having found each other again and not being in danger of being shot, drowned or arrested didn’t hurt either. The next morning over their complimentary breakfast the pair of time travelers tried to plan out their next move.

  “This is the year Barry mentioned in his message so obviously we’re supposed to track him down somehow,” Ainsley surmised.

  “Perhaps,” Nick replied, “But are we even sure we want to meet this guy? How do we know we’re not walking into some sort of trap?”

  “Good point, but then again, what’s our alternative. Tracking down who sent the message is the whole reason we haven’t returned home yet.”

  “I suppose you’re right. I just wish we knew more about this guy, like how he hacked into our messages for starters.”

  “Or how we’re supposed to find him,” the reporter added. “We don’t even know for sure if we are in the right city, or the right country for that matter.”

  “Or continent,” Nick said. “But let’s assume for the moment, that if we are, in fact, destined to meet this guy in this time, he must be somewhere near enough that we can reach him before I teleport out at 3 AM.”

  “That sounds reasonable,” the reporter concurred. “But it still leaves a pretty big search area.”

  “Maybe we’re looking at this all wrong,” the time traveler suggested. “Maybe we’re not supposed to find him, maybe he’s supposed to find us. After all, he’s the one who seems to know what’s going on here.”

  “Good point, however that means that by running around trying to find him, we may actually be making it harder for him to find us.”

  “Sounds like quite a pickle,” a familiar voice said.

  “Will!” Ainsley cheered. “What are you doing here?”

  “Well, when I told Erin here about our little adventure, she insisted on coming down here to meet you two,” the barista explained. “Which reminds me, Ainsley, Nick, this is my girlfriend Erin.”

  “Nice to meet you,” a young lady with a slim build and long red hair greeted.

  “Um, hi,” Ainsley replied. “So, Will told you all about us?”

  “I’m sure not all,” Erin smiled kindly. “He told me you two were traveling together but got separated and he helped you track each other down.”

  “That he did,” Nick chuckled.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I need to find the ladies room. I’ll be back in a minute,” Erin said giving Will a quick peck on the check and then heading off.

  “So, what’s this about another guy you have to track down?” Will asked.

  “Barry,” Ainsley stated. “He’s the one I told you about who’s been leaving us the messages.”

  “I wonder,” Nick started and then paused to reconsider his thought.

  “What?” the reporter inquired.

  “Well, I was just wondering, if Barry can send a message to you, maybe, he can listen to the messages you send out too.”

  “Well, yeah,” Ainsley replied. “That’s been the working assumption, hasn’t it? That’s why we’ve been careful not to say anything too specific or revealing.”

  “Exactly, but what if we did say something specific?” the time traveler suggested.

  “I get it,” Will jumped in. “If you send a message to your … your brother, right?”

  “Yes, Carl.”

  “And you say that you plan to be at a certain place at a certain time,” the barista hypothesized.

  “If Barry is eavesdropping, he’ll know exactly where to find us!” Ainsley finished the thought.

  “Exactly,” Nick confirmed. “Now all we have to do is figure out where to go.”

  “Where to go for what?” Erin asked.

  “Erin, is there someplace nearby that is kind of like a local landmark?” Ainsley asked. “A place pretty much anyone local would know how to get to.”

  “Preferably in a public area,” Nick added.

  “Sure,” the redhead answered. “Stanley Park is only ten minutes from here. You could meet your friend at the old lighthouse. Anyone from Vancouver should know exactly where that is.”

  “We can drop you off there,” Will offered

  “Perfect,” Nick stated. “We’ll go grab our stuff and leave a message for our friend then meet you out front in ten minutes.”

  – 33 –

  The Old Lighthouse

  The couple sat quietly together looking out over the inlet. Upon arrival, they had investigated the area to make sure no one was laying in wait for them and once they were convinced that the proverbial coast was clear they took their place on the park bench near the landmark lighthouse. Their latest message had been sent out at three in the afternoon when Ainsley once again overrode the Turtle Dove’s recall function. However, they realized there was no to know exactly when Barry had received it or whether their message had reached him at all. All they could do was sit and wait to see if he would show up.

  “We need to talk about what we do if this guy doesn’t show up,” Ainsley eventually spoke up.

  “I’m more concerned about what we do if he does.”

  “True, but we can’t very well plan for that until it happens. So, thus far we’ve been continuing on in hopes of tracking down the source of the message. If it doesn’t happen today, I’m not sure it will.”

  “What are you suggesting?” Nick asked.

  “If we don’t make contact with this Barry fellow by midnight I think we should sync the Little Bird to the Turtle Dove and go home the next chance we get,” the reporter proposed.

  “We’ll have to make at least one more jump first, but as long as we end up near each other I think we should be fine.”

  “So, it’s agreed?” Ainsley confirmed. “If Barry is a no-show today, we head home tomorrow.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Sounds like a reasonable plan,” an unfamiliar voice said. “But I don’t think that will be necessary.” A young man in his late teens, or perhaps early twenties walked out from behind the lighthouse and smiled kindly. His features seemed vaguely familiar, but neither of the time travelers could say exactly why or from where.

  “Hi, do we know you?” Nick asked.

  “Not really, but
I know the two of you,” the young man replied. “Ms. Ryan and Mr. Jones isn’t it?”

  “What makes you say that?” Ainsley inquired cautiously.

  “Your choice in jewelry,” the young man replied nodding toward the Turtle Dove on her wrist. “That and you’re sitting right where you said you would be in your message.”

  “Barry?” Nick asked.

  “I told you we’d meet up here eventually,” Barry smiled. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions, but I need you to hang on for just one moment, please.” He pulled out a pair of small canisters roughly the size and shape of lipstick tubes out of his pocket. As he separated the canisters, a fiber optic screen stretched between them. After touching a few spots on the screen he held the one tube up to his ear. “Hey, yeah, it’s me. Yep, they’re here. Okay. We’ll be right there.” When he had finished speaking the young man pressed a button on the end of one of the canisters and the screen retracted.

  “Who was that?” Ainsley demanded.

  “You’ll see soon enough,” Barry stated calmly. “Come on, we’re going to take a short walk.”

  The young man led the time travelers into the park filled with large red cedars. They walked a couple hundred yards eventually coming upon a small outdoor restaurant. Barry guided them to a table where what appeared to be a man in his fifties sat with his back to them.

  “Here we are,” the young man declared, motioning for them to take a seat at the table. The older man did not turn around or speak, but just sat still and waited quietly for his guests to be seated.

  Having sat down, the time travelers got their first good look at the man who seemed to be pulling Barry’s strings. Ainsley stared blankly at the man with greying hair, but Nick eventually found his voice and spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, “Carl?”

  “Is it really you?” the old man stammered in disbelief. “After all these years you haven’t changed a bit.”