by Ken Johns
April 5, 2018
Mila banged on the door to Jess’s hotel room. Again. “Come on. John and Sandra are already in the lobby.”
“Coming,” said Jess, her singsong voice muffled through the door.
When the door finally swung open, Jess stepped out wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, but she glowed. Mila had long since learned to quell her envy. Some people were just happy all the time, and her sister was one of them. Mila didn’t smile before noon, as a rule, unless there was coffee or a camera. “You look good. Is that why it took so long?”
Jess smiled. “Oh, no. I jumped out of bed when you knocked on the door.”
“Bullshit.” Mila knew it took Jess at least an hour to do her makeup and hair.
Jess snickered as she lifted her phone and started texting as they walked toward the elevator.
“You can’t bring that.” Mila stopped walking.
“What?”
Mila pointed at the phone.
“Oh, shit, I forgot.” Jess ran back to her room and disappeared inside.
Mila waited for a minute before she rolled her eyes and walked back to Jess’s open door. “What’s taking so long?”
Jess had the cabinet open under the TV. “I can’t decide what pass code to use for the safe.”
“Just use your birthday.”
“Are you serious? Do you know how many people use their birthday as a password? That’s like saying, ‘Here, take my stuff.’”
“Will you just pick a number? You know the longer we leave Sandra alone, the more time she’ll have to think of a reason to back out.”
Jess shook her head. “She’s not going to back out. Why fly to New York? If she was going to back out, she would have done it at home.”
“I hope you’re right.” Mila checked the time on the clock by Jess’s bed. Sandra’s “decisions” were fluid at best. “Still, I’d feel a lot better if we were down there holding her hand.”
“Fine.” The safe beeped and Jess stood up. “Let’s go.”
Mila followed her out to the elevator. “So what number did you wind up using?”
Jess’s mouth bent up at one side with the tiniest smile. “Your birthday.”
“Bitch.” Mila giggled as she stepped into the elevator.
When the doors opened, Sandra and John were standing right there. “What took you so long?” John asked Mila.
“Don’t even start.” Mila held a palm up to her father as she walked past him toward the hotel’s main entrance.
“It wasn’t her,” said Jess.
“Oh,” said John.
Mila didn’t expect an apology. She was used to it. She stepped out onto West Forty-Fourth Street and held the door for her family. The crisp April air cut through her sweater, but if she suggested a cab, Jess would counter-suggest walking, and John would side with Jess. So she didn’t.
“Which way?” said Sandra.
“Ten blocks,” said John, pointing up the street. Holding Sandra’s hand, he moved into the stream of pedestrians, and a gap opened around him. He had that effect on people.
Mila had no interest in occupying that space at the moment, so she let a clump of people pass before slipping into the flow of humanity with her sister. She needed some room. Who knew what cramped quarters they might have to occupy in the days to come? She’d better enjoy these moments while she could. She wasn’t worried about losing sight of John. His head and shoulders stood above the average height of the crowd, and she and Jess had both inherited that genetic trait.
“You okay?” Jess said in her ear.
“No.” Mila sucked in a breath through her mouth and let it out slowly through her nose.
“Anything I can do?”
“Remind me why we’re doing this,” Mila said.
“Seriously?” Jess put her arm around Mila’s shoulders. “I think you felt nostalgic for a past family vacation that may or may not have ever really happened and you thought, hey, wouldn’t this be cool.”
Mila rolled her eyes, but she did manage a smile as they walked. “Thanks, Doctor. Next time I decide I want to spend a long time in close proximity to John, just slap me, okay?”
“Done.” Jess smirked.
Mila studied her sister’s face for a moment. “You would, too, wouldn’t you?”
“With love,” said Jess, drawing back one open palm. “Like this.”
“Don’t.” Mila pointed a single finger in Jess’s direction.
Jess giggled as she lowered her hand.
They walked in silence until John led Sandra through the crowd to a building on their left and opened a door. “We’re here.”
Mila stopped and read the unobtrusive brass engraving next to the door. Split-Second Time Travel Co. – Welcome To The World That Was.
“Are you coming?” John held the door. Sandra and Jess were already inside.
“Yeah.” She stepped past him. “Thanks.”
The door closed behind them with a long, metallic echo. Mila jumped and stared at the offending door. It resembled every other heavy glass door. “That was creepy.”
“What did you say, sweetie?” asked Sandra.
“Nothing.” Mila smiled quickly, turning to face her mother. That was the last thing she needed. If she wasn’t careful, her comments could set Sandra off.
White marble lined the cavernous lobby. A wraparound desk on a dais the size of a flatbed stood at least fifty meters away. A small head, just visible above the desk, bobbed to some unheard beat. John led them down the long room toward the movement. The receptionist sat with her back to them, leaning over an open file drawer.
“Good morning,” called John.
No response. The bopping continued.
“Hello!” Mila offered.
Jess climbed up onto the dais, stepped around the desk, reached over, and tapped one rocking shoulder.
“Fuck!” the receptionist growled. She whipped her wide-eyed face toward the offending finger, wielding her stapler in a defensive sweep.
Jess pointed at her own ear.
“Oh!” The receptionist pulled out her ear buds and added more quietly, “I forgot I had these in.” No trace of the cornered beast remained. She placed the stapler on her desk and picked up an iPad. “Do you have a reservation?”
“We’re the McLeods,” John said.
“Your orientation will begin shortly. Please follow me.” The receptionist walked down the two steps from the dais and led them to a frosted glass wall behind the desk. She slid open one panel and held it while they all entered the anteroom.
Mila turned to thank her, but she was already climbing back up to her desk as the door closed on its own with a creepy hiss. Mila slumped down on a leather sofa just inside the door. Jess joined her. Sandra sank into the easy chair and John stood in the middle of the room in a position he called “parade rest,” facing the only other door. Would he be able to relax at all on this vacation? “There’s plenty of room.” Mila pointed to the space between her and Jess.
“No, I’m good.” John returned his focus to the door.
Mila let her eyes wander to the framed posters that extolled the excitement of the tours offered by the Split-Second Time Travel Company. Ancient Rome under Hadrian’s Rule showed the iconic Colosseum in its pristine state, not broken and shored up like it was nowadays. Jerusalem in the Time of Christ showed a beautiful marble temple that Mila didn’t recognize. The Birth of Democracy in Ancient Athens displayed a columned building trimmed in gold and blue. It kind of looked like the Parthenon, but Mila wasn’t sure. All of the pictures were glossy and enticing.
The door in front of John opened, and a man in a lab coat stepped through. He wore a name tag sticker that said My name is_________, and in the blank he’d written Bob.
Mila rolled her eyes when he opened with, “My name is Bob. I’ll be your guide for the orientation today.”
Bob passed them each a clipboard with a single page and an attached pen. “These are your release forms. Please read and sign them. I’ll be back
in a few minutes.”
Bob left, and Mila skimmed the fine print. Before she’d gotten halfway down the page, she heard Jess scrawl her signature. Mila raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“What?” said Jess. “It’s just a formality. You know if anything goes wrong, I’m suing their asses. This single page won’t mean shit in court.”
John and Sandra were busy reading every word. Mila returned to her own document. It started with the usual indemnities. Then came a set of rules designed to limit the participant’s impact on the past and therefore the future. That’s where it got interesting.
“Did you even read this part?” Mila pointed.
Jess lifted her own clipboard and started reading out loud. “‘One: the participant will share no information with any inhabitants of the time period visited. Two: when speaking with inhabitants, it is recommended to keep the subject matter related to food or weather. If this cannot be accomplished, then not speaking at all is recommended. Three: at no time should any participant touch or have any physical contact with the inhabitants. This is for the safety of both the participant and the inhabitants. Four: your SSTTC guide will do their best to avoid situations where conflict might arise between inhabitants or between participants and inhabitants. If you find yourself in an unforeseen or unavoidable conflict situation with an inhabitant, do not fight. Your best course of action is to run. Fighting will only result in potential harm to the inhabitant and therefore to the integrity of the timeline. Five: any participant caught breaking any of these rules will be sent home immediately and prosecuted to the full extent of the law.’” Jess stopped reading. “Okay, so the guide is also a babysitter.”
“You still think it’s just a formality?” Sandra said. “They seem pretty concerned about this stuff. Don’t talk to them, don’t touch them, don’t fight back. What’s that all about?”
“It means you could change history if you tell somebody about the future, even by accident,” said Mila.
“Or if you hurt somebody,” added John.
“But it says not to even touch them,” Sandra frowned.
“That’s probably about disease,” said Mila.
“What kind of disease?” Sandra’s eyes popped wide. “Plague?”
“It can’t be the plague,” Mila said quickly. “I read somewhere that this tour is taken before the plague came to England.” She smiled. “It seems like they’ve done their homework.”
“It could also be us bringing modern diseases into the past,” said Jess.
Mila signed her release in a show of confidence she didn’t really feel, but she had no reason to distrust the SSTTC. “So, are we good?”
John signed his form and put a hand on Sandra’s shoulder. “How are you doing?”
“I’m not sure.” Sandra put her hand over his.
Bob came back in. “Is everybody ready?”
They all watched Sandra. She glanced at each of them, then huffed and signed her form.
“Yay!” said Jess with a little clap.
They all handed Bob their clipboards, and he glanced at each one. “Next, I will lead you to the change rooms. There you will be provided a locker for your personal belongings and a set of SSTTC JumpGear to change into. The ladies’ JumpGear is a woolen robe, much like a housecoat. The gentleman’s JumpGear is like a set of wool pajamas.”
“What about underwear?” asked Mila. Wool could be so itchy.
“Including underwear,” said Bob. “Nothing from the present can travel back in time to before its date of invention. Bras and panties had not been invented in the fourteenth century.”
“What?” said Jess. “They had to wear something.”
Bob shook his head. “It’s history. I don’t make the rules. The period undergarment was a chemise, which will be provided along with your full costume upon arrival. The JumpGear has been designed for ease of movement and speedy removal, so that you may change quickly into your period clothing. Our company guide will meet you with a carriage that serves as a rolling wardrobe and a changing room.”
“Cool,” said Mila. “Will there be any choices? Style? Color?”
Bob scowled. “It’s the fourteenth century. Your costumes have been designed to blend in, not stand out. We do not wish to draw any attention while we are visitors. You must remain as anonymous as possible.”
“Fine,” Mila sighed. “Just asking, Bob.”
“Are there any more questions?” Nobody said anything, so Bob led them to the change rooms.
Mila came out of the change room first and stood waiting for the rest of her family. She twisted her neck and rolled her shoulders in a futile attempt to ease the itchiness. The sooner they got there and changed, the happier she’d be.
John came out of the men’s change room and stood next to her. “All set?”
Mila nodded. “Mm hm.”
John smiled. He seemed pretty happy, standing there in his JumpGear pj’s.
Jess and Sandra finally joined them, but before they could say anything, Bob appeared at the end of the hall.
“Please follow me.” Bob led them through a reinforced steel door. They shuffled into a dimly lit room lined with computer racks. The hum of cooling fans negated any conversation, so Mila kept quiet. Bob motioned to a black sliding door at the end of the racks. They moved through it into an elevator-sized room. Once they were all inside, Bob slid the door closed, cutting off the hum. “Let me introduce you to the MCV.”
Bob pointed to the baseball-sized globe sitting on a waist-high plastic column in the center of the room. They’d all had to step around it when they entered. Now they stood in a loose circle facing it.
“This is the Miniature Chrono Vehicle.” He smiled. “Or MCV.”
Mila furrowed her brows. Why was Bob so stoked about such an obvious acronym?
The MCV seemed to be made of the same white plastic as the pedestal. But when Bob reached out to it, it assumed the color of his fingers.
“As you can see, it’s camo enhanced.” Bob swiped right across the surface of the ball and a holographic display appeared above it. “And it has a touch screen interface and the holo-display you see here.” He actually pointed. Mila threw a puzzled look at Jess, who shrugged and smiled back at her.
Bob returned his hand to the ball and said something that sounded like “little big horn” as he began to type. What the hell was that about? The date April 27, 1341, 9:00 a.m. appeared in translucent red characters in the air between their faces.
“You must all touch the MCV together in order to travel to the same time and place. There is a flash of light during the jump, so I suggest once you have placed your hands on the MCV, you close your eyes.” He pointed to the sliding door. “I will be monitoring from the computer room.”
The sliding black door was in fact heavily tinted glass, and they had a dim view out to the computer room. Why was it so dark?
“When I leave the room, I will start the sixty-second countdown.” Bob pointed to a small LED clock in the corner near the door. He raised his eyebrows. “Are there any questions?”
Mila had a question, but she didn’t want to ask it in front of Sandra. Thankfully, Sandra asked it for her.
“Does it hurt?”
“Does what hurt?”
“Time travel,” said Sandra.
Bob shook his head. “It is almost instantaneous. Some people have reported a slight feeling of euphoria.”
Reported? So Bob had never done it. That wasn’t very comforting.
“Any other questions?” he asked.
Mila had some, but Bob apparently didn’t have any answers that hadn’t been prepared for him, so she kept them to herself.
“Then please place your hands on the MCV, and have a nice trip.” Bob opened the door. The wall of computer noise slammed them until he slid the door closed. He stepped to a console across from the door. The countdown began.
“Wow,” said Mila as she watched the little clock counting down. “He’s not wasting any time.”
<
br /> Chapter Three
April 5, 2018
John tore his eyes off the countdown clock. The girls smiled with anticipation but Sandra fussed with the belt of her JumpGear. He put his arm around her shoulders. “Hang in there.” He smiled. “Hard part’s almost over.”
Sandra blew a wisp of black hair from her eyes. “How do you know? You’ve never done this before either.”
“What, time travel? No, but I can read a clock.” He nodded at the clock that showed thirty seconds to go.
“Shit.” Sandra huffed.
A hissing drifted up through the grate beneath their feet.
“Please place one hand on the MCV, Mrs. McLeod.” Bob stood just outside the glass with a wireless mic in his hand. He pointed at the ball. As if she couldn’t see it. John smirked. This guy was a prize.
“It’s okay, Mom,” Jess said. “We’ll be fine. I’ll see you when we get there.”
Sandra gave Jess a weak smile but to John she said, “I don’t want to do this anymore.”
He gave her a squeeze. “Are you sure? T-minus twenty is a helluva time to back out.”
“Mom!” Mila glared at Sandra. “Quit whining and put your hand on the MCV.”
“I’m sorry.” Sandra drew in a quick breath. “I don’t think I can do it.”
“Fifteen seconds on the clock, ladies. What’s it going to be?” John took his own hand off the MCV.
“Wouldn’t you like to go to Venice instead?” Sandra grinned. “My treat?”
Mila rolled her eyes and sighed. “Mom. I’ll make it really simple. I’m going.” She glanced at Jess.
“Well I can’t let her go alone.” Jess shrugged. “I guess I’m going too.”
That was no surprise. Ever since they were kids, Jess had always backed Mila’s play. Even though they were both adults, they were still his daughters. John didn’t want either of them going without him. Ten seconds. Surely Sandra felt the same way. If she didn’t, he’d have to step in and somehow stop them from going. Even when it was her panic attack, he would have to be the asshole.
Sandra huffed once and put her hand on the MCV. “Put your hand on the damn ball, Sergeant. They’re not going alone.”
He smiled as he put his hand on the MCV next to hers. “I hoped you might say that.”