by Ken Johns
Lost In Time
a Split-second Time Travel Story
Ken Johns
Lost in Time copyright © 2018 by Ken Johns
Split-Second Time Travel Story #1
All rights reserved.
Lost in Time first published in Canada and around the world by Ken Johns in 2017. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior permission of the copyright owner.
The scanning, uploading, and distributing of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
ISBNs:
978-1-7753582-1-3 (.mobi)
978-1-7753582-2-0 (ePub)
978-1-7753582-0-6 (print)
Cover & eBook design by Crystal Clear Solutions
Cover images licensed from shutterstock.com
Author photo by Doug Buchan Photography
Please note: this is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Sneak Peek at Book 2 in the Split-second Time Travel Series
About the Author
Acknowledgments
To Big Lar
Chapter One
July 9, 2017
Mila just couldn’t force herself to enter her parents’ house. Her home, really—she’d lived there for the first twenty years of her life. She stood close to the door as though it were about to open and she would step through. But she was actually standing that close to avoid the sight lines through the glass windows that bordered it. The closer she stood, the less likely she’d be spotted from within.
For the seventh time, her finger drifted to the doorbell without pressing it. She glanced at her phone. Where was her sister? Jess should have been here by now. They were supposed to go in and present their anniversary gift together. A corner of the envelope poked at her skin from the back pocket of her jeans. She reached down and pulled it out. The paper had begun to curve, and she flattened it out on her thigh.
Mila glanced up and down the street. What if her old neighbors spotted her through their sheers and wondered why she was standing outside instead of going in? Old Mrs. Robinson would probably come out of her house and walk across the road just to ask if everything was okay. Mila wished it were winter, just for a second. Not because she liked the cold, but because the days were shorter and at least she would have the cover of darkness while she waited.
Why didn’t she just go in? How bad could it be? They were her parents, for Christ’s sake. She took a deep breath. Sandra would hug her and, with a strained look on her face, hold her at arm’s length, studying her face for any signs of stress or fatigue or whatever it was moms looked for. John would give her a giant bear hug and pull away quickly with minimal eye contact. They would talk about the weather and uncomfortable silence would follow while John figured out a way to swing the conversation toward her. Had she landed any roles? Did she have a new boyfriend? Did she need any money? It never changed. So she was fine waiting outside. It was too bad she’d taken transit. If she had a car, she could have waited in it like a normal person.
The throaty rumble of a well-tuned engine pulled into the driveway next door. Mr. Clark’s ’67 GTO crept slowly up his driveway and eased to a stop on the far side of John’s pickup. Had he seen her? Shit. He’d saunter over, scuffing his heels, and try to strike up a conversation. Hey, Mila, it’s been so long. How ya doin’. His eyes, though hidden by mirrored glasses, would inevitably lose their grip on her face and ease down her torso. Ugh. He’d done that since she was thirteen.
His door opened, and his cowboy boots hit the ground.
Mila glanced around her yard. There was nothing close enough to hide behind. Inside with her parents, for better or worse, was her only escape. She pressed the doorbell. No ding-dong. Shit.
Mr. Clark stood up. His head came into view above the hood of John’s pickup. The brim of his Mariners baseball cap covered the graying hair on his neck. His door clunked shut.
She rang the bell again. Still nothing. Was it even working?
“Hey, Mila!” Clark bawled across the lawn. “It’s great to see ya.”
Pretending not to hear him, she grabbed the handle and tried it. It turned. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She blew out a long breath and pasted a smile on her face. “Happy anniversary!”
“Hi, Mila!” Sandra walked out of the kitchen with her hands up behind her shoulder blades. Adjusting her bra? She combed her fingers through her hair as she came down the hall.
Mila hugged her and tried not to visualize the activities her parents had been up to that might have necessitated the adjustments Sandra needed to make under her sweater.
Sandra released her and slid her hands down the back of Mila’s arms. “Here. Let me look at you.”
The double-handhold once-over was imminent. Mila lifted her arms out of Sandra’s hands. “That won’t be necessary.”
Mila stepped around Sandra to where John waited to give her a hug. “Hi, John.”
“Hi, Mila.” He leaned down and wrapped his enormous arms around her back.
She sucked in a breath and braced for the squeeze. He didn’t quite lift her off the ground, but it was close.
When he stepped back, he said, “Can I get you a glass of wine?”
“Sure,” she said.
He walked back to the kitchen.
“How are you?” Sandra said.
“I’m great.” Mila smiled, following her into the kitchen.
John handed her a glass of wine. He leaned down and planted a kiss on Sandra’s neck then returned to the stove to stir something.
Her pare
nts had been married for twenty-five years, but they still found the energy to act like teenagers on their anniversary. Mila didn’t know if she should be impressed or disgusted. She sipped her wine and pulled out her phone. She texted Jess: Save me. The love parade is in full swing! ETA? She put her phone back in her pocket. “Can I help?”
“No, everything’s ready,” Sandra said. “Your dad’s been cooking all afternoon. He’s on leave.”
Mila inhaled the scent of sautéed garlic that permeated the kitchen. “Smells amazing.”
“Let’s take our wine into the living room while we wait for your sister.” John gestured toward the comfy chairs with his wineglass, keeping his other hand on the small of Sandra’s back.
Mila followed them to the couch and quickly sat down next to Sandra, ensuring that there was no room between them for John. She caught the smirk on his face as he crossed the room and took the easy chair by the TV.
Mila’s phone chirped with a text. Be there in 10. 5 if I use the siren. Mila sighed her relief and texted, Do it.
“Was that Jess?” Sandra leaned over to read Mila’s phone.
Mila slid the phone back in her pocket, nodding. “Mm hm.”
“She’s been working long hours lately,” said John.
And there it was, the segue to the inquisition about work.
“Have you had any callbacks recently?” asked Sandra.
“Nope.”
“Auditions?” asked John.
“No.”
“Do you need some money?” Sandra smiled weakly, raising her eyebrows.
Every time. Mila took a slow breath in. “I’m fine.”
“We worry, that’s all.” John held her gaze from across the room.
Mila read his look of concern that barely masked the underlying disappointment.
“Don’t.” She said it out loud for both of them. To him as an answer, and to herself as a warning. If she engaged, it would ruin the evening. But every fucking time they got her alone, it came up. When were they going to just let her live? She stifled the urge to check the time on her phone. Instead she glanced across the room and found the LED of the VCR, still working long after the format had become obsolete. John refused to let it die.
“Maybe if you had a steady income…” he continued.
“Enough!” Mila cut him off. “Don’t you ever get tired of this?”
Sandra put her hand on Mila’s knee and squeezed gently. “It’s all right, Mila. We’re only trying to help.”
No, you’re meddling. She wanted to scream it but instead she lifted her mother’s hand off her knee and said, “I don’t need your help.”
The front door opened and Jess called from the hallway. “Happy anniversary!”
John raced into the hall to greet Jess. Typical. Sandra stood and followed him.
“Hi, Daddy,” Jess squealed as she gave John a hug. She was almost as tall as he was, and in her Kevlar vest, their upper bodies were the same girth. She slapped his back as Sandra stepped in.
“I’m going to put supper on the table.” John headed for the kitchen.
“Hi, Mom.” Jess bent at the knees and air-hugged Sandra. “Sorry, that’s all I can do right now. A real hug will Velcro your sweater permanently to my vest.”
When Sandra stepped back she put a hand on Jess’s cheek. “I’m glad you’re here. Do you want some wine?”
Jess nodded. “Definitely.”
“Coming right up.” Sandra followed John into the kitchen.
Jess opened her arms again, but Mila held up a hand and pointed at Jess’s gear. “I’ll wait.”
“Yeah, sorry. I had to come straight over.” Jess rolled her eyes and then crooked her head to one side in her best vacuous-blonde imitation. “Obviously.”
Jess hung her tac vest in the hall closet and put her holstered gun up on the top shelf, next to John’s.
“You’re just in time,” Mila whispered.
“Oh, did I miss it?” Jess sounded disappointed.
“You did. But there were no waterworks. I nipped it in the bud.”
“Well done.” Jess leaned in for a hug. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too.” Mila held Jess and whispered in her ear. “I got the tickets!”
“Awesome.” Jess pulled back. “Can I see?”
Mila handed her the envelope and grabbed a ballpoint pen off the hall table. “Here, sign the card while you’re looking.”
Jess read the anniversary card and smiled, but spent more time staring at the four tickets inside it. “I can’t believe we’re really doing this.”
“We still have to convince them.” Mila nodded toward the kitchen.
“Don’t worry. They’ll come.” Jess sounded more confident than Mila felt.
“Okay, I can’t wait any longer. Let’s do it.” Mila led her big sister into the kitchen. John took off his oven mitts as Sandra handed Jess a glass of wine.
Jess held up the wine. “A toast.” She had to wait while the rest of them retrieved their glasses from the living room. “To our favorite parents. Your love inspires us. Hell, it spawned us. May you have another twenty-five years as good—or better—than the first ones.”
They all took a sip.
Mila handed John the envelope. “Happy anniversary. From both of us.”
“Thank you.” John handed it to Sandra, then stood behind her to read over her shoulder.
Sandra read the front of the card and held the tickets out of the way while they finished reading the inside. She smiled. “Aww. Thank you.”
When Sandra stepped toward Jess for another hug, Mila pointed at Sandra’s hand. “Finish reading the rest.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Sandra held up the tickets and started to read. She seemed to take too long reading, as though it wasn’t plain English. Then her worry wrinkles began to grow in her forehead. Finally, she held the tickets out to John, and Mila could have sworn she saw Sandra’s chin quiver.
“Wow,” said John. He finished reading. “Thanks very much. That’s great.”
Clearly, John wasn’t picking up Sandra’s vibe. Mila glanced at Jess.
“Mom,” said Jess, “what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Sandra downed the last half of her wine. “You really shouldn’t have. You know your father and I don’t want you guys spending your money on us.”
“Stop it.” Mila forced herself to keep it light. “Did you count the tickets?”
John fanned the tickets, revealing four. “Hey look, Sandy. We can take the Taylors with us.”
“Funny,” Mila deadpanned. Then, with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, she said, “When was the last time we enjoyed a family holiday? We’re all going.”
“It’s going to be great,” said Jess with her infectious smile.
“I can’t wait,” said John.
Sandra elbowed him. “Do you even know where we’re going?”
“I can read.” John looked confused.
“Can you?” Sandra pointed at the tickets.
“It says, Canterbury in England.” John didn’t read where she pointed. “I think it’s a wonderful idea.”
Sandra pulled the tickets back. “It says, and I quote, ‘The Split-Second Time Travel Company invites you to visit Canterbury. Follow in the steps of Chaucer’s pilgrims and see Rochester Castle and Canterbury Cathedral in the year of our lord 1341.’”
Sandra let her hand fall to her side.
“John, it’s time travel.” Mila couldn’t stay silent. She had to take control before Sandra’s panic snowballed. “You know, like Aunt Beth and Uncle Jack did last summer?”
“You guys have talked about it for years,” added Jess.
“Yeah,” said John, “but I thought it was prohibitively expensive.”
“It was, back when it was first discovered, but that was twenty years ago. I think the patents ran out or something, because the price has come way down,” said Jess.
“There are all kinds of companies offering it now. I found a great
deal online.” Mila smiled outwardly, but inside she knew that if they didn’t convince Sandra that night, they never would. “We’re going to see castles and cathedrals in use and fully standing. Before they became the ruins they are today.”
“Tapestries, minstrels, jugglers, and original stained glass,” added Jess.
“And a tournament.” Mila said this to John. If she could keep him on board, Sandra would follow his lead. “Jousting, melee—you know, grown men kicking each other’s asses for sport.”
“Are you sure it’s safe?” John asked.
“You can check their safety records online,” said Jess. “I did. The SSTTC has never had a problem.”
John nodded slowly. “What do you think?”
“I think we should have dinner.” Sandra moved to the table and sat down. “Your father prepared all this wonderful food, and it’s sitting here getting cold.”
“Fine.” Mila sat down next to Sandra and plated a large slice of lasagna for herself. “So, are we going, or what?”
Sandra frowned as she loaded tossed salad into her bowl.
Jess and John were both looking at her, literally hanging on her reply.
“Well?” said Mila.
Sandra blew a wisp of black hair off her forehead and smiled. “Yes. If Beth did it, I sure as hell can.”
Chapter Two