After realizing that each of her deaths was a slightly modified riff on the previous ones, I began to try to save her. For months, I adjusted her day in every way I could imagine. I packed a lunch for her, and talked her into avoiding gymnastics practice. I even stalked her before school to make sure she got there safe. Despite these attempts, I was still unable to save her. No matter what I did, one tragedy or another would pop up and take her away from me.
If there was a god, or even the Fates as the Greeks described them, they had it out for this high school girl. There wasn’t a single universe I could find where Gretchen survived to the end of school on March 21.
This began my deep descent into attempting to experience every single universe Gretchen lived, in hopes that at least one of them was different. I had no clue how many universes there might be, but I had lived thousands of lifetimes. A few more days experiencing Gretchen’s deaths would be nothing compared to my long life.
In a way, she did me a favor. I had come to her in despair. She took the time to listen to me and understand my power. She even ignited a small fire of hope in me, for humanity as a whole. I hoped that maybe I could keep this young woman alive in at least one universe. Of all the humans in all the worlds, she deserved to live a long and happy life.
For thousands of days in a row, equivalent to six or seven years of my experience, I watched Gretchen die repeatedly. When she died, it still hurt, and I was grateful for that. Being stabbed by the pain of losing her was at least a small indication that I hadn’t lost all my humanity. On the other hand, I quit mourning her death and attending her funerals long ago. I left that work for the default Todds. I focused on doing what only I was capable of: seeing every version of Gretchen I could, until either I died or she survived.
The small flame of hope she started was still inside me. However, every day of watching her die brought it closer to burning out.
* * *
I walked toward her locker. It was in the back hallway, where they assign the seniors’ lockers. Gretchen had a top one, and it was hiding her face from me at that moment. As I walked, I caught a few stares from seniors trying to grow facial hair. I suspected that even after years of dating Gretchen, the default Todd still wouldn’t be able to walk down this hallway with confidence.
Ignoring them, I walked up, still hidden from Gretchen, and squeezed her sides. She let out a small squeal. This was something I would only ever do as a teenager. “Hey, stop that!” she protested between giggles.
“What’s up?” I asked, staring into her beautiful, almond-colored eyes.
She twirled her short brown hair in her fingers. “Ugh, college algebra,” she sighed. “I didn’t pick up a single thing Coach Clingmore said. She is sooo monotone I want to fall asleep.” She grabbed my hand and we headed to class. Looking at me, Gretchen asked, “Do you think you could help me study this afternoon?”
“Sure,” I said, knowing the commitment would never come to fruition.
“Great! Want to just go get coffee at The Lighthouse?”
“Of course,” I agreed again. “How was your weekend?” I asked, trying to turn the spotlight of the conversation away from a future that would never come, and onto a comfortable and familiar past.
“Weeeeeeeell,” she dragged out the beautiful syllable, “I went shopping for some outfits for my senior pictures. My mom has me scheduled to do them this weekend, and I wanted something cute to wear. What about you?”
The warning bell went off, telling the students there was a minute left to get to class. Soon, teachers would be flooding the halls, corralling students into classrooms.
“I watched the Apollo 11 launch from Orlando, and got a bit of a sunburn standing in the Florida sun.”
She giggled and squeezed my hand affectionately. “You always think of the craziest things. What was it like?”
“It went off without a hitch, as usual. But all the cameras from the sixties suck. It’s no wonder some people believe NASA faked the landing.”
“Well, next time you go, you’ll just have to bring your phone and take a decent picture,” she said. “Then send it to me so I know you’re lying,” she added as an afterthought
That’s not how it works, I thought. I can only bring my consciousness. I replied with, “Maybe. Did we have homework in Spanish?” I asked, already knowing the answer. There was a test. Luckily, I had most of the questions memorized from previous lives.
“No, but there’s a test today,” she said. “I probably should have studied this weekend, instead of going shopping. Did you get a chance to study some while you were in Orlando?”
“No, but I think I count as a native speaker.”
“Todd,” she said with a snorted laugh. “You’re a white guy from the suburbs. In what universe are you a native speaker?”
It was so much fun to hint at my other lives with her. Even if she didn’t always understand, she was always a good sport, and I was never technically lying. Today was her last day on earth, and I figured she deserved some entertainment. The default Todd that usually played this part was most likely dry and dull. Gretchen deserved better. He probably complained about not studying, and was pointlessly fretting over that. I’m sure that’s what I did my first time around.
“I was hired by the monarchy of Spain back in 1839 to be an English tutor for Queen Isabella II. I picked up the language out of necessity. We were friends up until her exile in 1868. I don’t remember many of the details, though.”
“Well, I hope your memory comes back to you. Otherwise, Señor Lopez will get to mark your test up with his rojo boligrafo,” she said, poorly mocking the teacher’s accent.
“It’s boligrafo rojo,” I corrected as we walked into the classroom. “In Spanish, the descriptor comes after the object.”
“Thanks,” She said as she rolled her almond-colored eyes in the way only a teenage girl could.
* * *
It was 10:35 a.m. I left Spanish twenty minutes prior, after acting like the test was challenging. I gave wrong answers for questions 2 and 16 so no one thought I was cheating. That would still give me a test score in the high nineties. The least these default Todds should receive for loaning me their bodies is an improved GPA.
I stared through the words Coach Heath put on the whiteboard about persuasive speeches. He had the lanky body of a young basketball coach, and it was easy to ignore his unassuming personality. I worked to act as if I cared, but all I could do was focus on the phone in the room. I heard the standard-issue clock that hangs over the door in every classroom count the seconds off with slow, meticulous clicks: 10:36 and 25 seconds, click, 26 seconds, click, 27 seconds, click.
Dring dring dring, the telephone interrupted the coach’s lecture and overpowered the sound of the clock. He picked up the phone. “Yes, of course,” he said before hanging up. “Todd Rungson, Mr. Walters needs to see you in his office. Do you know how to find him?”
“Yes,” I replied, while the other students murmured. They were idly wondering what it was about, looking for any excuse to avoid the monotonous lecture. I packed up my things.
“I don’t think you need to bring all your stuff,” the teacher said, trying to keep the classroom interruption to a minimum. “I’m sure you will be back in a moment.”
“I won’t be coming back today,” I said. From my teenage mouth, this sounded arrogant. The coach stared at me, probably wondering if he should be resentful, but I walked out before he could make a decision.
As I walked down the hall I thought, maybe I’ll take a vacation somewhere exotic after I get the imminent news of Gretchen’s accident in gymnastics practice. I’d considered it before, to break up the monotony of these days, but rarely was I able to find something exciting enough to pull me away from the mystery that was Gretchen’s continual deaths. I walked down the hall, wondering if this universe’s 22nd century had anything interesting.
I sat down across from the guidance counselor. He was bald on the crown of his head, but refused to
admit it. What hair he had left was grown out as long as possible, and he seemed to soak it in a slimy gel every morning to keep it in place.
His tone was emotionless, and it went straight through my ears. He said all the right words, but they lacked the empathy that I might actually need to heal. Luckily this death wasn’t a shock to me, otherwise the man would be doing more harm than good. I nodded during the pauses in his lecture.
He explained how Gretchen had been fatally injured after the uneven bars she was practicing on unexpectedly broke. She inexplicably landed on part of the floor without padding.
The rest of the conversation was for his benefit, not mine. He went on about how the team was usually so careful, and how they would take extra precautions to keep this from ever happening again. There was a long explanation about how there was no way they could have seen this coming, and how it was a total chance occurrence.
I saw it coming. However, the best explanation I had was that it was just another appearance of Gretchen’s awful luck. I had seen her gym equipment fail before, and I’d likely see it again.
There wasn’t a man less qualified to give a teenager news about his girlfriend’s death. It sounded like he was only telling me so he could practice for when he had to break the news to her parents. I felt bad for them having to hear it from this man.
When he was content with his explanation of the incident as being not the school’s fault, likely not a view her parents would take, I asked him if I could have a moment alone. He granted it to me and pushed a box of tissues across the desk, not noticing my eyes were bone dry. He closed the door behind him as he left.
I took in a deep breath. I let it out, thinking of the 22nd century and the adventures I could have. Then, with my next inhale, I felt a burden that pushed me to see Gretchen once more. I asked myself, what’s a few months to a consciousness my age? I owe her that much. I couldn’t come up with an answer, and finally settled on, What the hell? I’ll have one more go.
My mind hooked onto another March 21 in a new universe, and I was pulled out of the office and into my teenage bed. I tasted the rustic flavor of meatloaf in my mouth and wondered, how’s she going to die this time? After staring at the ceiling for far too long without finding rest, I got out of bed and brushed my teeth. When I returned, my body instantly relaxed, and I slipped into a peaceful, dreamless slumber.
4
Knife
Gretchen wasn’t at her locker and didn’t show up for Spanish class. I didn’t get a call during third period, and I had to sit through Coach Heath’s entire lecture. By the time I left Mr. Taylor’s class for lunch, I hadn’t heard from her all day. My only conclusion was that this universe was a dud. Gretchen had merely died before getting to school. It happened a fraction of the time. I resolved to switching universes during lunch. I descended the stairs and headed to the cafeteria. Then I saw Jenna standing at the bottom with a flock of teammates, but no Gretchen.
“Hey Todd, I’m sorry about what happened,” she said in a slow, somber tone. “It’s crazy right?”
Her statement doubled the number of words that she had ever directed at me throughout all the universes I’d observed. “Yeah, I can’t believe it,” I said. I wasn’t sure what she was talking about, but from previous experiences, I inferred she was commenting about Gretchen dying before school.
“We’re all pretty freaked out, wondering if it could happen to us,” she continued as we walked down the hall. I considered taking a breath as we walked towards the cafeteria. However, it would mean dropping the default Todd into the middle of this conversation without context, not that it mattered.
Jenna looked at me expectantly, so I replied. “It’s not going to happen to you. It was a freak occurrence. Teenagers virtually never have brain aneurysms,” I said, hoping to get her to drop this conversation and all interest in me. I started a deep breath, but then Jenna said something that caught my attention.
“This was freaky, but it wasn’t random. The guy might even be a serial killer. Didn’t you read the news?” she asked, dumbfounded.
“What?” I said, too interested to mask the confusion in my voice.
“She was murdered at her house last night. In her room. The article I read said that there was blood everywhere. Coach canceled practice today. I told my parents to call me out of class because I’m freaked out. We’re all freaked out. My dad is going to be here soon to pick me up. He doesn’t want me to drive home alone.”
“Gretchen was murdered?” I asked. My world was spinning. Gretchen had died a thousand times, probably more, but they had all been chances of fate. She died of accidents that couldn’t be tied to anyone or anything. A few ended in lawsuits, like the brownie company that accidentally had peanuts in their food despite saying that they were peanut free, but most were fluke occurrences. Gretchen’s murder indicated that there might be an explanation behind it. My mind raced. I had to find out who killed her.
“Yeah, it was like something out of a horror movie. I don’t think anyone will be sleeping peacefully in this town for a long time.”
“My mom reads those Stephen King books,” another teammate chirped. “I don’t know if she will let me go anywhere without her until they catch this guy.”
“Do they have any leads?” I asked.
The team shook their heads as a whole. I felt shivers go down my back. This death was something new and exciting enough to justify putting my vacation to the future on hold.
We had made it to the cafeteria by now. I sat down at the table that Gretchen and I usually sat at. I had almost become comfortable before I realized the rest of the team was joining me. Jenna took her seat and said, “We’re holding a memorial after school for her, if you want to come. I’m super sorry for your loss, Todd.”
“Thanks,” I said, unpacking my lunch.
When Gretchen was around, they never sat with us. I always assumed that they resented me for taking her away from them. This time, they seemed to be comforted by my presence. I could tell that my reaction wasn’t what they expected. The team was shocked by this. It obviously wasn’t the proper response to a potential serial killer. But they also seemed calmed by the fact that I stuck to my belief that it was a one-time occurrence.
Without unpacking my lunch, I sat back in my chair and took a deep breath. I reached my mind out to find the night before in this timeline. My consciousness had already been occupying this body, and it was always harder to push out than the mind of a default Todd.
Since this power didn’t come with a rulebook, I had to experiment with what I could and couldn’t do. I discovered early on that I could go back on my timeline if and only if I had been unconscious at the time. And when I did that, I could never change my past.
The killer had struck at night. This was lucky for me because I could take over my sleeping mind and observe the killing. However, since my consciousness hadn’t occupied the universe at that time, I couldn’t save her. By waking up this morning and hearing Jenna’s news before lunch, I locked the fate of this universe’s Gretchen into place. If I did attempt to change it, then my mind would become burdened by confusion. If that happened, I wouldn’t be able to witness who killed her.
Traveling back to see Gretchen get murdered would be a challenge, but it potentially held a clue, and that was worth the challenge. However, I was intoxicated by this irregular death of hers. Taking another deep breath, I searched for my unconscious mind.
I let the breath out, and Jenna asked, “What are you doing, Todd?”
I opened my eyes and saw the group of high school girls staring at me. “I’m meditating,” I answered, mostly honestly.
The girls scrambled their faces with confused looks while I put a sad expression on mine. “It’s how I want to mourn Gretchen. I can stop if it’s bothering you.”
Once I played that card, they all dropped the subject. The ones who thought it was weird silently looked down at their lunch, and a few admitted it was kind of sweet. I thanked them and took a deep
breath.
I found my mind from the night before easily, because the minty breath made it stick out in the sea of universes. I hooked the time and space. On the exhale, I made an effort to push my mind to the side while it slept.
My eyes opened and I inhaled, tasting my fresh breath. I stared into the dark room and the red letters of the clock said it was 11:23. I hope it isn’t too late, I thought to myself. Gretchen’s house was a five-minute car ride, but this late I wouldn’t be able to take the car. I’d have to run there to make sure I didn’t miss anything.
* * *
After a twenty-minute jog with binoculars hanging from my neck, I made it to Gretchen’s street. Her window was on the second floor of the house, and I had to wedge my body between the neighbor’s bushes to conceal myself. I was uncomfortable, but could see Gretchen’s window. She had a beautiful six-foot window that she could look out of at any time. In multiple lives she had told me how much she loved it.
The vantage point wasn’t perfect, but it was the best I could muster. I could only see the walkway to the front door, but not the door itself. The fence shrouded my view of the backyard entirely. Unless the killer scaled the wall in front of me, I wouldn’t be able to see them enter. But that didn’t matter. I just wanted to try and see the murderer. I didn’t dare get any closer for fear of the confusion setting in. If it caught hold of me, I would be incapable of comprehending what was going on. For all I knew, my body would just force itself to go for a walk around the block, and I’d miss the murder altogether.
An Echo Through Time: A Novella Page 3