by Jason Ayres
What the hell was Kent talking about? Josh couldn’t believe he was sitting here having this bizarre conversation with the last person he could imagine would know anything about time travel. He wouldn’t have credited the witless fool in front of him with being able to wire a plug, let alone build any sort of time-travelling device.
“The angel who sent me here,” insisted Kent. “Did he send you, too?”
Josh was stumped for an answer, not even having the remotest idea who this mysterious angel could be. He was spared having to muster a response by Hannah as she came back into the room.
“Sorry about that boss,” she said. “Johnson thought Russian hackers had got into the police database again because he couldn’t access it. Turns out he was putting the wrong password in.”
Impatient to get rid of her, Kent quickly changed the subject.
“All this questioning’s making me hungry,” he declared. “I expect you’re hungry, too, aren’t you?” he added, looking at Josh.
Turning to Hannah, he continued. “Tell you what, Benson, why don’t you pop out to McVie’s and get us fish and chips all round? My treat – here you go.”
He reached into his jacket pocket, took out his wallet and handed over a couple of his old-fashioned twenty-pound notes.
Hannah took the money with a perplexed look on her face. She wasn’t used to her boss being pally towards prisoners like this.
“Come on, chop chop,” added Kent, patronisingly. “I’m starving. Get some cans, too, and make sure they’re out of the fridge and not off the shelf. There’s nothing worse than warm fizzy drinks. And get a couple of battered sausages as well. And make sure they put plenty of salt and vinegar on mine, they always skimp on it in there. That bloody McVie’s a right tight arse.”
“Is there anything else I can get you, sir?” replied Hannah. “Perhaps you’d like to show our guest here the wine list as well?”
“No need to be sarcastic, Benson,” said Kent. “There’s no reason we can’t be civil to our guests.”
“It’ll be the first time you have,” said Hannah.
“Look, just go and get the chips and I’ll explain more when you get back,” said Kent, annoyed at his junior’s insolence.
“Right you are, sir,” replied Hannah, looking distinctly unimpressed. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll skip the chips and get a salad from Marks & Spencer. I’ve got my figure to think about.”
“Whatever,” replied Kent. “Just don’t try and force any of your rabbit food on us.” Kent wasn’t a salad fan and it showed in his waistline.
With Hannah gone, the conversation returned to time travel.
“How do I know you really are a time traveller?” asked Josh. “This could all be some clever routine you’re using to get me to confess. Tell me something from the future that’s not in that notebook.”
“Alright, I will,” replied Kent. “Theresa May is going to become Prime Minister, Donald Trump will become President, and Prince George is going to have a sister next year and they are going to call her Charlotte. How am I doing so far?”
“Impressive,” said Josh, who had to concede that Kent knew his stuff. “OK, I accept you have time-travelled. What I’d like to know is how and from when?”
“I came here from November 2018,” began Kent.
Just after we discovered the time bubble, thought Josh, as Kent continued.
“I was going through a bit of a mid-life crisis at the time – not getting on with the wife, made redundant from the job after a few investigations went a bit pear-shaped, the usual sort of thing. So there I was, up on the roof of Sainsbury’s car park, thinking about ending it all. Then, just as I was contemplating jumping, a younger version of me appeared. At least he looked like me, though he claimed he wasn’t, he was just taking my image.”
“Go on,” said Josh.
“He offered to let me live any six days of my life over again. So I asked him to send me back to when I was seven years old. Lo and behold I find myself in 1984 in my body as it was at the time. After a day, I found myself back in 2018. Next, I asked him to send me back to Grand National Day last year so I could foil a robbery and win a tidy sum on the race.”
“Which explains how you got the Lotus,” said Josh. “But you didn’t go back to 2018 afterwards?”
“No,” replied Kent. “That’s the strange thing. This time nothing happened. I’ve been living here for nearly a year since. I don’t mind, though. I’ve been given an extra five or six years to live over again, and you’d be amazed how much more enjoyable they are with the benefit of hindsight.”
Josh weighed up everything Kent had said.
“It’s quite an incredible tale,” he replied. “I, too, can travel in time, but not in the same way you did. The whole concept of transferring minds back into people’s bodies at an earlier time isn’t possible – or at least not yet in the time I come from, which is 2055.”
“So it could have been an angel, then?” asked Kent.
“I wouldn’t have thought so,” replied Josh. “Mind transfer has been talked about as a concept and it’s bound to come. In 2055, we’re already working on uploading brains into new bodies. I guess combining the time travel technology with that could be theoretically possible. It’s something I’ll have to think about working on if I ever get home.”
“If you’re from 2055, how did you end up here?” asked Kent.
Mindful that Hannah would be back soon with the chips, Josh gave him the edited highlights of a story he had told several times now to several different people in several different universes. It also enabled him to explain about the other Joshes running around the multiverse and how it was almost certainly one of them that had stolen Kent’s Lotus.
“Fascinating, the idea of multiple universes,” said Kent. “Perhaps that’s why I’m still here. When I came back in time I created a new universe and perhaps the old me has gone back to my old body in the original.”
“That’s very possible,” said Josh, impressed by Kent’s grasp of the concept. “Each trip does create both possibilities.”
“This all still leaves us with a bit of a problem, doesn’t it?” said Kent. “You’re still sitting here facing these charges. Now you claim you didn’t do it – that it was another you from another universe, but that’s not going to stand up in a court of law, is it? Not when it’s all been captured on CCTV.”
“Maybe if you could track down the other me…?” suggested Josh.
There was a knock on the door and PC Johnson came in.
“Sorry to disturb you again, boss, but there’s something important you need to know.”
“Can’t it wait, Johnson? You’re always interrupting my meetings. First you drag Hannah out on some trivial matter and now you’re bothering me.”
“Sorry, boss, but it can’t wait. It’s about your car.”
“What about my car? Have they found it? Is it OK?”
“Well, there’s good news and bad news, but I think you should come outside. We shouldn’t really be discussing such matters in front of a suspect.”
“Don’t mind me,” replied Josh, hopeful that the car turning up could lead to his exoneration.
“Don’t go all protocol on me, Johnson, just spit it out,” replied Kent, irritated as ever by his insistence on doing everything by the book.
“Fine. Well, it seems your car has turned up. A random patrol spotted it being driven down the A34 and pursued it. That’s the good news.”
“And the bad news?” asked Kent fearfully. “They had better not have damaged it.”
“Well, not exactly damaged it, sir. ‘Totalled it’ would be a more accurate description. They chased it down the Didcot slip road and unfortunately the driver lost control, turned it over and hit the barrier.”
“Bloody idiot, I’m going to throw the book at him for that,” exclaimed Kent. “Even if he is your twin brother,” he added, turning to Josh.
“Your brother?” said Johnson, worriedly lookin
g at Josh.
“In a manner of speaking,” said Josh.
“I think you’d better sit down, sir,” said Johnson.
“He already is bloody sitting down, you imbecile,” barked Kent. “Anyway, there’s no need to say any more, I can tell what you’re going to say. He died in the crash, didn’t he?”
“I’m afraid so,” said Johnson. “You have my deepest sympathy, Mr Gardner.”
“Never mind him!” exclaimed Kent. “What about me? I’m going to have a bloody nightmare with that insurance company now, I can tell you. If they try and wriggle out of it, there’ll be hell to pay. And that’s the no-claims bonus shot to buggery.”
“Sorry sir,” said Johnson.
“Alright, lad, it’s not your fault,” said Kent, relenting. “You can go. And get Hannah on the blower and find out where those fish and chips are, I’m bloody famished.”
With Johnson out of the way, Kent turned back to Josh.
“Looks like you’re off the hook, then. So what’s the plan now?”
“Well, what I really need is some money,” said Josh. “It looks like I may be stuck here for a while and my Monopoly money’s no good to me. How about we strike a deal?”
“What have you got in mind? I’m listening,” replied Kent.
“You can photocopy all of my sports results – they go up to about the middle of the next decade. Add them to the winners you already know from the next two or three years and you can become a multimillionaire if you want – assuming the bookies don’t close you down, that is.”
“How much do you want?”
“Not much. Just a couple of grand to get me somewhere to stay for a couple of weeks while I get myself sorted. I can use the sports results, too. I’m pretty sure it’s the Cheltenham Festival this week. Lord Windermere’s going to win the Gold Cup on Friday at 20/1 so that’ll set me nicely on my way.”
“I’ll have to have a few quid on that,” remarked Kent. “Is that all?”
“Well, some help with creating a new identity would be useful. All I need is a passport and driving licence. I’m sure you must know people. A new name would come in handy, too. There’s a thirteen-year-old version of me living in this town, not to mention all the others in the multiverse who might decide to pop in. I don’t want any more awkward mix-ups.”
“I’m sure we can arrange something. Now, can you do something for me?”
“I can’t send you back to 2018 if that’s what you want,” replied Josh.
“God, no, that’s the last thing I want,” said Kent. “I’m happy to get there the long way, and I much prefer this timeline to the old one. However, I am interested to know how all this happened in the first place. If you ever manage to get home and figure it all out, can you come back and tell me?”
“If I do, and it’s safe for me to travel again, I will,” replied Josh. “But if I do get back, I don’t think I’m going to be taking any more trips for a while. I’ve had enough these past few weeks to last a lifetime.”
He thought about the holiday he and Alice had planned to go on. How he wished he was on that now.
The door opened, and Hannah came in, the vinegary waft of the chips preceding her from the large carrier bag she was holding.
“Perfect timing,” said Kent. “This chap’s off the hook, Benson. Did Johnson tell you?”
“He did,” replied Hannah.
“Brilliant,” said Kent. “Then we can all enjoy a lovely slap-up meal with no unpleasant charges or anything else hanging over us and be in the pub by teatime.”
He reached into the bag grabbed a can of Fanta, and opened it.
“Bloody hell, it’s warm,” he said. “I told you to make sure they got it from the fridge.”
“I did,” she said, “but it’s been in the bag with the hot food.”
Rummaging around in the bag, Kent added, “And you’ve forgotten my battered sausage. Bloody hell, I can’t rely on anyone around here, can I?”
Despite his traumatic few days, Josh found himself chuckling at Kent’s comments. It was all so trivial and normal, which was exactly what he needed right now.
He began tucking into his food. He didn’t think he had ever enjoyed a bag of chips more.
Chapter Eighteen
June 2014
Josh awoke early to the sounds of birds tweeting outside. He had left the window open to let some cool air in overnight and the dawn chorus had started early.
He got up, stretched, and walked over to the window of his rented luxury flat in the centre of Oxford, looking out to the streets below. It looked as if it was going to be another beautiful summer’s day.
For the last three months he had been settled and comfortable, enjoying a life of leisure in the heart of the city.
After a few weeks in hotels, he was sufficiently affluent to be able to move into this flat. He started to make friends, some old, some new, and began to come to terms with the idea that he may have to stay permanently in the past.
Despite his comfortable existence, the idea of getting home was never far from his mind. He spent many nights tinkering with the tachyometer, wondering if there was any way of getting it working properly again, but he just didn’t have the tools at his disposal to do so.
He kept toying with the idea of going back in time again, but his next jump would take him to 2002 and he couldn’t see himself getting help there. After that, it would be as long ago as 1980, and he definitely didn’t want to go there. The idea of living in a time when technology was so primitive horrified him. What was it his gran used to go on about all the time? “I remember when we only had three TV channels?” That definitely didn’t sound like fun.
He had one hope left which was to try and get back to a time when he could catch one of his other selves on a visit to that past. In his diary he had a record of every trip he had ever taken, but trips back this far were few and far between.
He had only travelled back further than 2018 three times. Two of those revolved around Thomas Scott, in 1974 and 1990, and the other was to attend his parents’ wedding in 1992. There was no way he was going to travel back to 1980 and wait around a whole decade in the vague hope of bumping into one of his other selves. And that of course was making the big assumption that he would arrive in some sort of normal and safe world.
He realised it was probably foolhardy, but the nagging desire to try and go home kept eating away inside him. At night he had dreams of other realities, many of which turned to nightmares about some of the scarier worlds he had visited. It seemed that his subconscious mind at least, couldn’t rest, just as had been the case with Lauren and her nightmares about that night at the camp.
He also kept wondering why Alice had never come to look for him. That suggested that he had made it back eventually. She had a fully functioning tachyometer. If he hadn’t returned, there was no reason why she hadn’t been able to track him down. To him, that suggested he had made it home eventually.
What other options did he have? Instead of jumping, could he wait a few years for the time bubble to be unearthed? Could that help him? There were no guarantees. He would change the timeline, which might again lead to the Josh of this universe not following his time travel ambitions.
Maybe he could fix the tachyometer himself if he could get to the future, but he would have no money, identity or the resources of the university if he made it back there. The materials he needed didn’t come cheap. And it was another four years to wait anyway – he would be in his late-fifties by then. He just couldn’t wait that long.
After weeks of deliberation, a possible solution came to him. There was a way he could get to 1992, and then attend his parents’ wedding. This was a focal point in his life, and one of the first trips he had undertaken with the tachyometer. He would just have to hope that in the next universe things would be similar enough for his alter ego to attempt the same trip.
To get to 1992, he needed to re-create the situation where the Josh he had met in the nuclear war world had u
nexpectedly jumped through the bubble. He needed to send someone or something through to 2002, thereby resetting the device so it would send him back twenty-two years instead of eleven.
He didn’t have anyone handy he could send back to 2002. So what was to go through instead? It didn’t have to be human – all it had to be was above a certain weight and organic.
A horse could do it. He thought about the possibility of going to the races and creating a bubble in the parade ring while the runners were walking around. But he dismissed that idea as being too risky on a number of counts, not least that the horse’s lad or lass might enter the bubble instead. He had screwed up his own life enough, without messing up anyone else’s.
In the end, he came up with a similar idea, that of trying to lure a cow into the bubble. He could go off into the country somewhere, in a field and try and manoeuvre one in.
It wasn’t going to do the cow any harm – it would just end up in a field full of a load of other cows. It wouldn’t have any inkling of what year it was. One cow going missing in 2013 would be put down to rustling. Apart from some farmer in 2002 being perplexed at gaining an extra cow, it would be no big deal to anyone.
Manipulating a cow into the bubble proved remarkably difficult. The animals had viewed him with suspicion as soon as he entered the field, becoming decidedly aggressive towards him. At one point he thought they were going to charge him.
Backing away from them and losing his footing, leaving him face-down in a cowpat, didn’t help matters either, but the plan did succeed. A particularly rambunctious animal, coming rather too close for comfort, fell right into his trap and vanished.
With that accomplished, he spent the next couple of weeks making every possible preparation for his arrival in early 1992. He had the date calculated to the day, a stack of old currency to get him started, and of course, that old standby, the racing results.
Now he had to hope two things. Firstly that he arrived in a normal and safe world – because if he didn’t, he would have to jump again. That would take him to 1947 which didn’t bear thinking about.