by Jason Ayres
Making his way onto the football pitch, he headed straight over to the centre circle. By his best estimate, this was the safest place to jump. He only hoped he had got his calculations right. He was still not entirely sure what would happen if he ever tried to materialise inside a solid object, but he couldn’t imagine it would be a very pleasant.
He hadn’t wanted to risk experimenting to find out, but materialising halfway through a brick wall might well prove fatal if it were even possible. He wasn’t even sure what would happen if two lots of solid atoms were to try and occupy the same space at the same time.
Nothing had happened when he’d materialised in thin air: presumably the air had just moved around him, like someone diving into the sea displacing the water. But how do you displace a brick wall? Maybe he wouldn’t die from jumping into the middle of a brick wall, but he would be unlikely to emerge unscathed if he ended up demolishing the building in the process.
This was yet another question mark over the regular use of time travel which he had been unable to resolve. He had toyed with the idea of trying to find out using Maisie, but dismissed it. He’d grown highly fond of his little time-travelling mouse, and saw no reason why she should be sacrificed in the interests of furthering his research. And besides, Alice would never have allowed it.
No, he would just have to continue being careful. Perhaps the others were right and he would have to make this his last trip. He would make a final decision when he returned.
He took the tachyometer out of his backpack, held it out in front of him and prepared to make the jump. He’d already programmed the date and time into the device, which meant he only had to turn it on and press the recall button to bring up the time and date of his destination.
31-10-29 / 5.45pm was showing on the device’s small screen. He had not given himself a great deal of time to spare, but then he didn’t want to be hanging around in the cold for hours and hours. What was going to happen was going to happen about 6pm, according to Ryan. A quarter of an hour ought to be quite sufficient for him to get into position to see what he needed to see. And even if it wasn’t, he could always jump back again to the correct time.
If he was being honest about the whole thing, he was dreading it, but his future self had told him that he had done this, so he felt he had no choice but to go through with it. Feeling more nervous than he had done on any of his previous trips, he pressed the button to create the bubble and stepped through.
His fears of materialising in the wrong place were unfounded. He’d appeared almost exactly where he thought he would. He was in the centre of the large square that had been used for parades and marches on the disused Army base. He was very exposed, not only to being spotted, but also to the elements.
Night had already fallen and the sheer force of the cold easterly wind through the blizzard tore through him in an instant. Despite having been exposed to it before during his journey down to Cornwall, time had dulled his memory to the extent that he had forgotten just how brutal it had been. Even with the heavy garments he was wearing, he began to shiver.
There was a large building resembling a warehouse to his right. It was in complete darkness, but over to the left there was a collection of smaller buildings where there were clear signs of habitation. Lights were pouring through the windows of one long, low hut, which Josh took to be the mess hall. There was also light coming from a smaller building beyond it.
His attention was drawn by the sound of what he assumed to be an Army vehicle approaching, in accordance with the information Ryan had given him. At the far corner of the square there was a large gap for vehicles to enter. Despite the snowdrifts piled up everywhere, he could see that the way in had been recently cleared. He had to get out of view fast.
Making his way as quickly as he could in the conditions, he just about managed to reach the gap between the mess hall and the other building before the headlights of the approaching jeep cast their way into the square.
If what Ryan had told him was accurate, this jeep was going to stop exactly where Josh was now standing, in-between the two buildings. With this in mind, he walked on to the corner of the building, fighting his way through the bitingly cold wind which was now right in his face, and concealed himself around the corner where they wouldn’t spot him.
Sure enough, the jeep pulled up right outside the door and two men got out. They were heavily clad in Army gear and it was difficult to make them out through the swirling blizzard, but he knew that one of them would be Ryan.
When they went round to the back of the truck and opened it up, there was no mistaking the girl they took out. He heard her before he saw her, swearing and cursing at the two men. Yes, that was Lauren alright.
He leaned further forward around the side of the hut, keen to get a better view. The two men were manhandling Lauren roughly into the hut, and she was spitting venom at them as she went.
Josh felt a confusing mix of emotions wash over him. There was joy at seeing his former girlfriend again, full of life and as feisty as he remembered her. There was sadness, too, knowing that she’d been dead for twenty years, a death that was to occur in only a few minutes’ time. And worst of all, an overwhelming sense of guilt that he was here and able to intervene, yet intended to do nothing.
What did it matter what Peter and the others had said? He was here, it was now. Why couldn’t he save her, as Kaylee had begged him to at the barbecue? Who would know he had done it anyway? Alice hadn’t known about the packet of crisps until he’d told her, so why should this be any different?
He had to pull himself together. He’d come here on a mission and he had to see it through. He couldn’t let emotions cloud his judgement.
Fighting the temptation to rush in through the door and rescue her, instead he made his way round to the other side of the hut where Ryan had told him there was a window. From there he should be able to see directly into Dan’s office.
He was dreading the thought of what he was about to see, and when he did look through the window, it was to witness an extremely unpleasant scene. Feeling as helpless as if he was watching a movie, he could see Dan and Lauren in the full throes of a bitter argument.
It was hard to hear exactly what was being said over the howling wind outside, but she was clearly screaming blue murder at him.
Josh winced as he saw Dan advance on her and hit her on the side of the face, making her fall back. Then a full-on fight developed. Lauren was every bit as gutsy as he remembered and gave Dan as good as she got, but then he saw her fall back, hit her head on the desk and sink to the floor. Blood began pouring from a wound on the side of her head.
It had been a horrific scene to witness. Josh could barely bring himself to watch any more, but forced himself to. He needed to know what was going to happen next.
Looking closely, he could see that Dan was crouched over Lauren’s body. His face was partly turned towards the window and Josh could see that, far from seeming triumphant in what he had done, he looked mortified. In fact, as he looked more closely, he could see that he was crying.
This wasn’t what Josh had expected to see at all. When Dan moved to one side, Josh could see that a large pool of blood had accumulated beneath her head on the floor.
So, that was how it had happened. It wasn’t quite the evil deed he had expected. Yes, he had attacked her, and they had been fighting, but it wasn’t exactly premeditated murder. Not that he was making any excuses on Dan’s behalf. Lauren was dead and he had caused her death, even if he hadn’t intended to. He had seen enough.
Just as he was about to look away from the window, Dan looked up from Lauren’s body, and looked him straight in the eye. He stared at Josh, for no more than a split second with a look of confusion on his face. Josh couldn’t hang around.
He pulled back from the window, walked back around to the square, pulled out the tachyometer and jumped back to his own time.
Arriving back in the school playing field, Josh had plenty to think about. He felt ex
tremely upset by what he’d just witnessed. He had always known it wasn’t going to be pleasant, but even so, witnessing the death of someone who had once been not only one of his best friends, but also his lover had completely traumatised him.
The relief at being back, and the stress of what he’d been through overwhelmed him, and he vomited right in the middle of the centre circle of the football pitch.
It didn’t make him feel any better. All he wanted to do right now was get home to Alice. As for time-travelling, he was done with it for the time being. The others were right: it was time to lock the tachyometer away.
He made his way out of the school, having to climb over a fence to do so, and made his way back towards the station.
Only when he saw the bright lights of Oxford as the train approached his destination did he begin to feel human again.
Chapter Sixteen
March 2064
“Come in and take a seat, Amelia.”
Doctor Amelia Spencer closed the office door behind her and sat down facing her manager across the desk. This was to be one of their regular meetings to review the status of one of the patients under her care.
The two women were experienced healthcare professionals, both in their late-forties. Amelia was a petite woman with long, straight, dark hair who had graduated with a medical degree from Cambridge. She had since built a successful career in psychiatric care.
Her manager, Evelyn, was a much taller and larger woman with curly blonde hair. She had built her career up in management within the NHS. This had culminated in her heading up the psychiatric unit just outside Oxford where the pair now worked.
The unit was under intense pressure to allocate an ever-dwindling amount of resources effectively. There were only so many patients that could be effectively cared for, not only in their unit, but in the country as a whole.
For patients who weren’t considered a danger to themselves or to others, supported living within the community was considered to be the best way to ease the pressure on resources.
The decisions about which patients must remain in the secure unit and which could be released under supervision were not taken lightly.
It was a part of Amelia’s job that she took very seriously indeed. After a high-profile case a year or two before, where a patient released under licence had killed three people and himself, she had to tread very carefully indeed when recommending people for release.
Most of the cases she dealt with were, by their very nature, extremely complex, but the case she had come in to discuss today was one of the most perplexing she had ever encountered.
For the past six months she had been Dan’s key counsellor, working with him on a daily basis since his arrival at the centre. Now the time had come to discuss his possible release with her manager. It certainly wasn’t going to be a straightforward conversation.
Evelyn already had the file open on her desk when Amelia came in, so was clearly familiar with the case. Nonetheless, she wanted to hear what Amelia’s latest thoughts were.
“So, tell me more about your time-travelling man,” she began. “Have you come to any recommendations about what we should do with him yet?”
“Well, it’s not exactly straightforward,” replied Amelia.
“Few cases in this place ever are,” said Evelyn. “I remember the last conversation we had about him three months ago and I’ve just been through the file again. Still, could you just run through it all again with me, and bring me up to date with the latest developments?”
“Of course,” replied Amelia, taking a deep breath as she began. “As you know when we brought him in here six months ago, he was in a bit of a state, ranting and raving about not belonging in this time.”
“I remember,” said Evelyn. “And is he still sticking to this story?”
“He is not,” said Amelia. “For the first four months he was in here, he was adamant that he had time-travelled here from 22 years in the past. He gave me details of his previous life in great detail. He told me who he was, where he’d grown up, places he’d lived, and so on. He stuck to his story that he was indeed the same Daniel Fisher who had been declared legally dead years ago and never deviated from it. I had to give him credit at the time: at least he was consistent.”
“And he’s not saying that anymore?” asked Evelyn.
“No, he isn’t. A few weeks ago he began to change his story. He now claims that he was confused and he lost his memory. He still can’t account for exactly where he was during those 22 years, but he does insist that he is who he says he is.”
“So, where does that leave us?” said Evelyn. “Is he telling the truth now or not?”
“That’s the thing. I decided to investigate his past in more detail. I looked up his birth certificate, school records, and his police record, which made for some interesting reading, to say the least. It’s fair to say he’s had a bit of a chequered past. I also managed to find a lot of archive material on him from the old social networking sites that were popular years ago.”
“So what did you discover?” asked Evelyn, keen to know more.
“Well, there’s the funny thing,” continued Amelia. “Everything I have found checks out. The final piece of the jigsaw was a DNA test which was an exact match. Unless he’d found a way to falsify each and every one of those things, there is no doubt that he is who he says he is. And the thing is, even if he did have the ability to fake all of that, what would be the motivation?”
Evelyn paused for a moment, thinking over the information, and decided to pursue a different direction. “What about his psychological profiling?” she asked.
“It’s not flagging anything untoward,” replied Amelia. “Despite the fact that he has some rather disturbing dreams – you wouldn’t believe what he told me the other day, we’ve run every possible test we can on him and they are all telling us the same story. This man is as sane as you and me. And every lie detector test we’ve done on him has come up negative – whatever he’s told us right from the start, including the time travel stuff, at least from his point of view, is the truth.”
“What did he tell you the other day?” asked Evelyn.
“I’m not sure you want to hear it,” replied Amelia. “It’s rather unsavoury.”
“Oh believe me, I’ve heard it all in this job,” replied Evelyn.
“Here goes then,” began Amelia. “Do you remember those wire things we used to get at school fêtes when we were kids? The ones where you used to have to pass a ring on the end of a stick along a twisty wire, and if you touched the wire it made a buzzer go off?”
“I do,” replied Evelyn. “I used to love the school fête.”
“Well, Dan said he dreamt that he was back at school and he had one wired up to his testicles – one end attached to each. All of his old school friends were having a go on it and deliberately touching the wire which gave him an electric shock.”
Evelyn burst out laughing. “Oh my God, that is hilarious. Sorry, I shouldn’t laugh, it’s unprofessional, but still it’s only a dream. I’ve had some pretty weird ones myself.”
“It could have some meaning, though,” said Amelia. “He did tell me that his old friends had disowned him over the years. It could be some deep-seated anxiety over that.”
“Or it could just be a sign of sexual frustration, with a secret fetish for masochism. And lots of us have got that.”
Evelyn paused and then added. “Basically, other than the dreams, there’s nothing whatsoever to suggest that this man is suffering from any mental illness whatsoever. We know that he made wild claims about being a time traveller, but he’s now retracted that. In short, we’ve got no real reason to keep him here.”
“No, we haven’t,” agreed Amelia. “But there is one final piece of evidence I’ve gathered that really does put the cat among the pigeons. As you know, the latest genetic testing methods can measure the age of a person incredibly accurately, almost to the day.”
“Did you run the test on him?” a
sked Evelyn.
“I certainly did,” replied Amelia. “And it clearly showed that he was just 40 years old, which is the age he looks. Yet all the other evidence I’ve gathered puts him at 63 years old.”
“Which makes him exactly 23 years younger than he should be,” concluded Evelyn, fascinated by what she was hearing. “So what are we saying here? That we have a man who really has travelled from the past? Or is it just one enormous and elaborate practical joke?”
“Why would anyone want to go to such extraordinary lengths for a practical joke?” asked Amelia. “Besides which, it’s hardly worth the inconvenience of being put inside here for months or possibly years on end, is it?”
“Have you confronted him with all of this?” asked Evelyn.
“I’ve tried,” replied Amelia. “But he’s just playing dumb. Like I said, he’s claiming he can’t remember anything.”
“Well, regardless of whatever the truth is, we need to get back to the heart of the matter. What are we going to do with him? If he’s completely sane as all the evidence suggests and not a danger to the community, then he can’t stay here. I see from the records that it was the police who originally sent him to us. Can we send him back to them?”
“I’ve looked into that,” said Amelia. “Although he did go on a bit of a crime spree before he came in, the police have said that they don’t want him back. They don’t have enough on him to get a custodial sentence, and none of his victims have expressed a desire to press charges. They still want to charge him for the theft from the woman on the bus, but it seems like a heavy fine or probation would be the most likely outcome. He didn’t actually commit any physical harm to anyone, and you know what it’s like with the prisons these days: you practically have to kill someone to be put inside.”
“So, we just let him go, then?” said Evelyn.
“Not exactly,” replied Amelia. “I think we should release him on licence, provide him with some sheltered accommodation in Oxford and keep him under observation. It’s such an unusual case, I think there could be more to it than meets the eye. I recommend we keep him under supervision for a year and with your permission, I’d like to remain his key-worker.”