The Time Bubble Box Set

by Jason Ayres

  “It’s not there,” she said, confirming his suspicions. “I had a feeling you were going to turn my offer down, so I thought I’d give myself a little bargaining power. Now we both have something each other wants.”

  He couldn’t believe it. She was blackmailing him into having sex with her.

  “Stop playing games, Lauren. Where is it?”

  “Oh, you’ll get it back,” she said playfully, “when I’m ready. Don’t worry: it’s hidden in a safe place. And before you start tearing the place apart, it’s not here. I went out while you were asleep.”

  “You can’t keep me here like this against my will,” protested Josh.

  “I’m not keeping you against your will. You’re more than welcome to go out that door anytime you like. But remember what happened earlier? Now who do you fancy taking your chances with – me, in a nice cosy bed, or hordes of predatory women out there who haven’t had a man for over a year? They’d rip you to pieces, like dogs fighting over a bone, and you know it.”

  She had him over a barrel, and he knew it.

  “Why are you so desperate for me?” he asked. “You’ve got Seema.”

  “I’ll put it bluntly,” she said. “I want cock.”

  “But you and Seema use strap-ons and things, don’t you? I saw them in the bedroom.”

  “It’s not the same if it’s not real,” she replied. “Now look, I’ll make a deal with you. You be my sex slave for twenty-four hours until Seema gets back tomorrow night. That’s all I ask. Then you can have your magic wand back – if you still want it after a session with me.”

  “And what if Seema catches us in the act?” asked Josh.

  “Oh, she won’t mind. She’ll probably join in. We were fantasising about having a threesome just the other night while we were having sex. It really turned her on. So how do you fancy that? It’s meant to be every man’s dream, isn’t it? And just to top it off, she’s famous as well.”

  Josh could feel himself wavering.

  “And what about Alice?” he asked weakly.

  “What happens in this universe stays in this universe,” replied Lauren. “If you ever want to see her again, you don’t really have a choice.”

  No matter how much his mind was telling him this was wrong, his body disagreed. The thought of having Lauren and Seema in bed with him had sapped any last ounce of resistance. Lauren knew she had him. Noting the bulge in his trousers, she stood up, took him by the hand and led him to the bedroom. They wouldn’t emerge again until morning.

  Chapter Seventeen

  March 2014

  Josh was sitting on a bench in the park, head in hands. He was virtually on the point of tears at the truly traumatic experience he had just enjoyed.

  His emotions were a mix of relief at reaching a place of relative safety, mixed with despair at his ever-deepening predicament. He was feeling extremely sorry for himself, but he knew he only had himself to blame. This mess had all been of his own making and he was accordingly filled with self-recrimination and remorse.

  A few days ago it had all been so different. Two days of losing himself in sexual fantasies had allowed him a brief respite from the trials and tribulations of his long journey. But any lingering glow he may have felt from that experience was swiftly erased by the horror of the following world.

  Here he had come closer than ever before to losing his life. He thought the nuclear war world had been bad, but at least he had been able to detach himself somewhat from the events that had occurred there. This time, there had been no convenient cellar to hide in – he had been well and truly in the thick of it.

  Why hadn’t he just stayed in 2022 with Lauren and Seema? At least he had been safe there, not to mention happy during his short stay in Lauren’s flat, even if it had been on her terms. When Seema returned it got even better. Just as Lauren had predicted, she was every bit as pleased to see him as Lauren. For the next couple of days he enjoyed the greatest sexual adventure of his life.

  But he knew he couldn’t live that fantasy forever and while there was still a chance of getting home, he had to try. He also felt guilty at betraying Alice, even if it was another universe and under exceptional circumstances.

  Over a takeaway the third night Josh was there, the three of them discussed his options.

  Lauren had been against him leaving – she thought he was crazy giving up a safe haven in exchange for the unknown, but Seema disagreed. She felt that they had no right to keep him there against his will and disapproved of the way Lauren had effectively coerced him into sex. She insisted that Lauren should return the tachyometer, putting the decision to stay or go back into Josh’s hands.

  Lauren backed down, and the following evening, he jumped from within the flat, figuring that was less risky than venturing out onto the streets again. As long as the building was still standing in 2019 in the next universe, he ought to be OK, although it would be to a time before Lauren had lived there. That meant running the risk of a repeat of the incident when he had disturbed the amorous couple in the hotel room.

  That would have been tricky, but it would have been infinitely preferable to what he encountered on arrival in the next world. Within seconds, he realised he had made a ghastly mistake.

  It was getting dark when he arrived, but there was still enough light to see that the first-floor flat was almost unrecognisable from the one he had left. There was no one living in it, because it was completely uninhabitable. The windows had been blown inwards, leaving broken glass all over the floor.

  Half the front wall that led out onto Walton Street was completely missing, and there was rubble and dust everywhere. Loose pipes and wires were hanging out of what bits of wall remained, and there was water gushing from the pipe where the sink had previously been. At his feet lay a small toy racing car, with the rear wing snapped off.

  It looked as if a bomb had gone outside and blown half the front of the building in. Fortunately the part of the floor Josh was standing on was still there, as there was a gaping hole down to the ground-floor flat below. He could also smell gas, so didn’t dare try the light switch, but he doubted whether it would work anyway.

  Then he heard an explosion in the distance, and the unmistakeable sound of machine-gun fire. Fearful of what he might see, he made his way carefully to where the window had once been, hoping the remaining portion of the floor wouldn’t give way beneath him.

  It looked like something he might have seen on the news from Syria or Iraq. The entire city was devastated, with burnt-out cars, destroyed buildings and smoke and dust everywhere. In the distance, he could see a group of British soldiers in full retreat, firing ahead of them, as a group of what resembled ISIS fighters pursued them.

  When another missile hit the building next door, the noise was deafening, taking out another wall and showering him with dust and debris. With his building looking like it might collapse at any moment, he had no choice but to take his chances outside.

  A nightmarish night followed which he spent running, hiding and trying to stay alive. It was exhausting, terrifying and distressing. He witnessed some truly horrific things along the way, from raped and murdered women to dead children, some still clutching soft toys they had been holding when they were killed.

  He escaped only by a hair’s breadth, the tachyometer turning green not long after dawn, just as he was cornered by an ISIS fighter. If he had entered the bubble a fraction of a second later he would have been dead, ripped to pieces by the hail of bullets unleashed in his direction.

  That had left him here, all the way back in 2014. He hadn’t been able to do any of the things he had hoped in 2019, busy as he was just trying to stay alive. So now he was stuck with a load of useless currency that he wouldn’t be able to spend for years. He had about a fiver in loose change that was still legal tender and all the money he had in the world.

  He was now in a time before the time bubble had been discovered. Neither his thirteen-year-old self nor any of his friends would know anything about it
so there would be no help there. He could hardly approach them, anyway. A fifty-three-year-old man accosting some young teens with stories of time travel would probably be labelled a paedophile.

  There was only one person who might listen to him in this time, and he lived back in his home town. Spending his last few pounds on the train fare, he left Oxford and headed home once more.

  At least this world seemed normal, something for which he could be thankful. He may have no money, no home, and no food but at least he was alive and not about to be blown up, shot or otherwise despatched from the world.

  His plan was to visit Peter, who at this time had been one of his schoolteachers. It had been Peter in whom he and Charlie had first confided when they had discovered the time bubble all those years ago. He had been open-minded about it then; hopefully he would be again.

  All Josh really needed right now was someone to talk to who might understand, give him some shelter and help him out in the short term. If he was here for the long term, well, he still had his list of sporting results. If he could convince Peter of the truth, then perhaps they could come to some sort of arrangement.

  It was a Monday morning, the 10th March, so Peter ought to be at school. He couldn’t just march in, he’d have to try and catch him at the end of the day.

  Unfortunately, that plan went out of the window shortly after getting off the train and walking towards town. He had barely walked a hundred yards along the street when a police car, siren wailing, drew up alongside him. Two police officers, one of whom he knew extremely well, were out of the car and manhandling him before he knew it.

  Held against the side of the car by the man, he was handcuffed by none other than Hannah. This must have been her very early days on the force, as he had never seen her looking so young, but she lacked nothing in confidence and assertiveness.

  “You are under arrest on suspicion of vehicle theft and armed robbery,” she began, going on to recite the rest of the spiel that he had heard so many times on TV.

  “But I haven’t done anything,” he protested.

  “That’s what they all say,” replied Hannah as he was bundled into the car. Speaking to the male officer, she said, “Johnson, radio into the station and let them know we’ve got him.”

  “Kent will be pleased,” replied PC Johnson.

  Josh inwardly groaned – not Kent again. That man kept turning up like a bad penny. Presumably he was now going to have to endure his old school interrogation techniques.

  “What exactly am I supposed to have done, Hannah?” he asked.

  “That’s PC Benson to you,” she replied. “And you’ll be able to see for yourself when we get to the station. We’ve got it all on CCTV.”

  Whatever he was supposed to have done, she seemed pretty sure about it. Was it a case of mistaken identity, or something more? With all these other Joshes running around the universes, anything was possible. Had one of them done something? Was he going to be convicted for the crimes of one of his other selves? Was he to end up living in prison? It would be a pretty dismal end to his adventure. On the plus side, at least he’d get fed.

  Back at the station, Hannah took him into an interrogation room and shortly after, Kent came in, looking as chubby and red-faced as ever. Even though this incarnation hadn’t reached his forties yet, he still had an undeniable look of middle age about him.

  The two of them threw all manner of questions at him, none of which he had answers to, so he simply stuck to some advice his brother had once given him. He had been nicked for allegedly stealing some building supplies off another site and had just denied everything or said ‘No comment’ to any difficult questions.

  This clearly frustrated Kent. While Hannah remained cool and level-headed, her boss quickly became irate.

  “Look, we know you did it,” said Kent. “We’ve got clear CCTV footage from the petrol station of you holding them up.”

  By this stage, Josh had figured out most of what he was supposed to have done. It seemed he had stolen a car, driven to a garage, filled up with petrol, and then held up the cashier at gunpoint, demanding she hand over the contents of the till.

  “How do you know it was me?” said Josh. “It could have been my twin brother.”

  In a way, it was. It was almost certainly one of his alter egos who had done this, but armed robbery? Could he have gone that far? Maybe, if he was desperate enough. Clearly his counterpart was.

  “Oh, and your twin brother just happens to wear exactly the same outfit as you do, does he?”

  “Why not?” said Josh. “Parents often dress their twins identically. It looks cute.”

  “You’re like fifty years old, for fuck’s sake, not five,” exclaimed Kent. “Credit me with some intelligence.”

  Josh thought it best not to respond to that. He estimated Kent’s intellect to be somewhere on the same scale as the Neanderthals.

  “Now look, I’ve plenty of experience of armed robberies,” added Kent. “Busted a whole gang last year when they tried to raid the bookies. Didn’t I, Benson?”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied wearily, giving the impression she had been asked this question many times before.

  “There, see?” said Kent. “I’ve got a nose for this sort of thing and I can sniff out a wrong ’un from a mile off. You’re up to your neck in shit in this one, mate and no amount of denying it is going to get you off. So why don’t you save me a lot of bother, confess, and then I can be down The Red Lion nice and early after work tonight.”

  Before Josh could reply, they were interrupted by PC Johnson who came to the door asking if he could borrow Hannah for five minutes. It seemed he had some problem with the computer that couldn’t wait.

  Normally this sort of interruption would have annoyed Kent, but on this occasion he welcomed the opportunity to get Josh on his own. Declaring the interview suspended and pausing the tape, he waited for Hannah to leave the room, before rounding on Josh.

  “Right, now she’s out of the way, let’s get down to serious business. What have you done with my car?”

  “Your car?” asked Josh. He hadn’t mentioned anything about that before.

  “You know damn well it was my car – my Lotus. I can’t believe you had the nerve to steal it from outside this very station.”

  “You’ve got a Lotus?” said Josh, surprised. “And the police always complain that they’re underpaid.”

  “Yes, I have got a Lotus, or did have before you nicked it, and I want it back. And yes, we are underpaid, considering what we have to go through, dealing with the likes of you. I couldn’t afford a car like that on my salary.”

  “How did you get it, then?” asked Josh. “Did you take a backhander from the council or a local businessman for turning a blind eye to something dodgy? That’s not very becoming conduct of an officer of the law, is it?”

  He couldn’t resist trying to wind Kent up. It was so easy.

  “If you must know, I had a big win on the horses,” said Kent.

  “Gambling, eh? And then flashing fancy cars around with your ill-gotten gains? Isn’t that a bit immoral from someone who’s supposed to be setting an example?”

  “Immoral, maybe, but not illegal, and it’s my job to uphold the law,” replied Kent. “I’m good at catching criminals and I’m good at picking horses.”

  Josh didn’t recall Kent being particularly good at either from past experience. He also didn’t recall him being particularly wealthy and had never heard a Lotus mentioned before in his own universe. Perhaps the Kent of this world was a superior, genetically enhanced version.

  If he was, it certainly didn’t show in his appearance. His tie was askew and stained, and his top button wasn’t done up, presumably because Kent’s neck had got too fat for him to do it.

  “Did you know you’ve spilt egg yolk on your tie?” he asked.

  “What?” said Kent, looking down, “Bloody hell, not again.” He tried vainly wiping at the now dried stain. No, this was definitely not a Kent of superior
intelligence to the original.

  “Tell me about this win on the horses, then,” said Josh, curious to know how Kent had managed it.

  “Auroras Encore – last year’s Grand National. 66/1 it was – I made a killing.”

  “Oh, Grand National winners, they’re easy pickings. You know I could tell you the winners for the next five years. Let me off and I’ll tell you them. Fair deal, wouldn’t you say?”

  “No, not really,” said Kent. “Who’s to say I don’t already know them?”

  “And how would you know?” asked Josh.

  “You’d be surprised. Go on, then, tell me who’s going to win this year, if you’re the local clairvoyant.”

  “I can’t remember off the top of my head,” said Josh. “But if you look in the backpack you took off me, you’ll find a notebook with all the winners of all the major sporting events from now until 2023 written down in it.”

  “This I have to see,” said Kent. “Wait here,” he said, handcuffing Josh to the chair as a precaution.

  Five minutes later he returned to the room carrying the notebook. Josh had been expecting him to rubbish the contents and dismiss it as all fantasy, but Kent’s reaction took him by surprise.

  “You really are a time traveller!” exclaimed Kent. “They’re all here: Pineau de Re, Many Clouds, One For Arthur. And that’s not all.”

  He held out a ten-pound note, portraying Jane Austen on the reverse. It was of the polymer design that Josh had brought with him.

  “Johnson’s been going through your wallet and he showed me this. He thought it was Monopoly money, but I know different. In a few years, these notes will be in common use, but right now, I thought I was the only person in the world who would recognise them. And then you turn up, carrying a whole wad of them.”

  “You seem remarkably well informed,” said Josh. How did Kent know all this?

  “How did you get here?” asked Kent. “Are you from the future? Did the angel send you?”

  “What angel?” Josh had encountered a lot of strange things on his travels, but couldn’t count an angel among them.