Sliptime

by Jeffrey Grode

  Beep, beep, beep, Vsshhhh-click, Whrrrrrrrr, k-bang, k-bang.

  Jack stared as garbage poured from the dumpster and into the belly of the truck. Useless trash, not worth saving. Old unimportant things. Out with the old . . .

  “Hey, Jack,” Ben called. “You okay?”

  He blinked as Ben approached with a look of concern. Jack wiped his eyes. Until then, he hadn’t realized he’d been crying. “Ben. Glad you could make it. We have a big day ahead of us.”

  Chapter 12

  Patrick arrived behind Carmichael’s bus station, earth-side, in a flash of green light. As far as he could tell, he wasn’t injured by the jump, and no one saw him appear. Once inside the station, he purchased a USA Today newspaper, sat on a nearby bench, and read the news.

  President George W. Bush presided his second term as president. Lance Armstrong won a record 7th straight Tour de France. Yesterday, the US launched STS–114, the first Return to Flight Space Shuttle mission following the Space Shuttle Columbia disaster. Patrick scratched his neck and smiled. No one alive today, except himself, knew Dr. Patrick McDugan became the first man to visit Earth from the future.

  He took the 11:00 a.m. local bus toward home. Since it was a weekday, the younger version of himself would already be at work. Patrick chose this day to visit because he had quarreled with his Betty over something silly and stormed off to the DoD lab. He’d said, “I’m a busy man and can’t waste my time arguing with you.” Not being one to apologize when he thought he was right, he never realized what an ass he’d been until it had been too late. Betty had grown distant, quiet, and sad. The spark in her eyes had guttered, as did their marriage. A year later she had died from cancer.

  Why am I here? Patrick mulled over his reasons for traveling back in time to this specific day. Of course he missed her desperately and wanted to see her alive again, but why this day in history? To warn her about the cancer that would take her life? To encourage her to seek medical attention? Or, better yet, to take her to modern day Terra for the best possible treatment? Her Terran doppelganger, Betsy, had survived her bout with cancer. Yet, he knew he explored dangerous ground. If he changed the future—one misstep could be catastrophic.

  The bus climbed the hill toward his property. He pulled the cord at the local stop, exited the bus, and climbed the steep driveway toward his home. As expected, his car was gone and the front door locked. Rather than use his key, he walked around to the back of the house and found Betty sitting at the patio table—crying.

  She wiped her cheeks hurriedly. “You’re back.” Betty’s forehead furrowed as she studied him.

  “Can you forgive me?” Patrick held his breath. This is why I came.

  Without words, she stood and extended her open arms.

  Feeling lightheaded, he crossed the distance between them and hugged his wife. She smelled of lilacs. “I love you.” He kissed her lips and she smiled.

  “Love you too.” When they let go of their embrace she touched his face. “You look tired. Are you feeling all right?”

  Tired, lonely, ashamed, ecstatic . . . “Been workin’ too much. You know me.” He sat down next to her and smiled.

  Her forehead creased. “When did you change your clothes?”

  “What?”

  “You’re not wearing the same clothes you wore this morning.”

  “Hmmm. Yes, but . . .” Patrick took her hand in his. “How are you feelin’?” he asked.

  She tilted her head slightly. “Tired, but all right.”

  “Have you been to the doctor lately? Get a recent check-up?”

  “Yes, just last week.”

  He frowned. “Did they screen for cancer?” His heart laid heavy within his chest.

  “They checked my skin and did a mammogram. I was good to go.” Her eyebrows furrowed again. “Why so interested in my health?”

  Ahh. There wasn’t a good screening for pancreatic cancer yet. He might have to tell her the truth, but would she believe him? She’d kept her diagnosis a secret until it was far too late. “I had a bad dream, Betty. You got real sick with cancer of the pancreas. It came on sudden. You were gone within a year.”

  “Pshaw. Was only a dream.” She waved her hand as if she shooed a fly.

  Patrick swallowed. “The dream seemed so real. Promise me you’ll go back to see the doctor within the month. Ask him to check your pancreas.” His eyes began to water. “Please.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “You’re serious.”

  He took her hand. “If you catch it early, you might live.”

  She shook her head. “You’re hiding something from me, Patrick McDugan. I can always tell.” She squeezed his hand. “You’ve come back early from work, wearing different clothes, and looking about ten years older. Clothes I didn’t buy for you. You never bought a stitch of clothes on your own as long as I’ve known you. Look at your hair. Gone white.” Her hand trembled. “Now you’re telling me I’m going to die from cancer. I’m guessing there was no dream.”

  “Betty, I—”

  “Oh, Jesus! You can’t be my husband . . . are you the Grim Reaper come to take me away?” She pulled her hand from his grasp.

  “No, Betty. I’m your very own husband. And yes, I am a wee bit older, but I—” Patrick stared at his shaking hands. “I spent years in me lab tryin’ to find you. I used science, you see . . . just to be with you one more time, before . . .” Patrick winced, lowered his head, and peeked over his dark-rimmed glasses at her. “Ahhh, but you don’t believe me, do you?”

  Betty laughed. “You are my husband the lab rat, there’s no doubt. Science was always your mistress, but now you’ve come back to save me, or am I the one who’s dreaming?”

  “I could never fool you.” He grinned.

  “And you could make a Mars rocket from metal scraps, gunpowder, and copper wire.” Betty folded her arms. “Now tell me the truth.”

  He did.

  She listened, invited him inside the house, and they had lunch. “You’ve scared me to the bone, but I’ll go in for a checkup. I want to live.” She cleaned her hands at the kitchen sink. “You amaze me. Come back through time to give me a fighting chance.” She laughed. “And thanks for the apology, although a bit late.”

  He took her hand in his. “I’ve loved you all my life. Even now. It was a blessin’ to find you again.” His smile faltered. Something worrisome tickled his frontal lobe.

  “Why don’t you come upstairs and rest with me for a while,” she said. “We have some time before your younger-self comes back home.”

  “Yes, we have time.” He smiled for her and watched her walk up the stairs. After a few steps his smile slipped. He’d worked so hard to find her, yet, if she lived, his younger-self wouldn’t need to mourn her premature death, or search the universe for her in the afterlife. He’d have no compelling reason to create a beacon, discover Terra, or obtain the S46 solar chip that would save Earth’s environment. Neither Ben, nor Patty, would have met Jack’s doppelganger. I wouldn’t have met Miss Betsy.

  As they lay naked under the sheets, Betty rested her head on his arm, and smiled. “You surprised me again. I love you so much.”

  “I love you too,” Patrick said. “I want you to know that . . . no matter what the future brings, I’ll find you again. And if our meeting lasts for a moment, an hour, or an eternity, I’ll be happier than I deserve.”

  “You’re sweet. Rest now.” She held him tight. They both fell asleep.

  Patrick woke first and dressed as she slept. He kissed her lightly on the forehead and his eyes misted. Goodbye, love. After adjusting the settings on his t-medallion, he pressed the last function and the green mist enveloped him.

  Patrick had only taken a short hop back in time—just a few hours. He saw himself sitting at the bus station bench reading a USA Today. He’s not going to want to hear this.

  Patrick strode to the bench and sat down beside his earlier-self. “Good mornin’. It’s me, or should I say, I’m you?”

  Patrick-2
raised both eyebrows and lowered the paper. “Oh. Now here’s a surprise. Come to warn me off?”

  “Yes,” he said with forced smile. “Keep the paper up so we don’t draw attention.”

  Patrick-2 raised the paper, but his shoulders slumped a bit. “That bad, huh?”

  Patrick said. “No, not at all. Betty is a beautiful loving woman, and God help me, I wanted to stay. But I can’t.”

  “No, you can’t,” Patrick-2 sighed. “Tell me what happened.”

  He told him everything.

  Patrick-2 frowned. “I’m glad you apologized to her for your, no . . . our past behavior this mornin’. Do you think you were wise to tell her about the cancer?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “It may change the future for better or worse. I think it might have been better to keep it secret until we can determine the eventual impact. I’m not sure how to do that yet, but we have time to develop safeguarding protocols.”

  Patrick-2 nodded. “Me arms are getting tired. Here, you hold up the paper for a while.”

  He took the paper from his other-self, and raised it up as if he were reading.

  “What should I do?” Patrick-2 said. “Just return home without seein’ her?”

  “No. That would nullify the entire visit.” Patrick shook his head. “Go see Betty and apologize. She deserves that much. But don’t tell her about the cancer. Not yet, anyway. I . . . we need to predict the unforeseen consequences before we change the future.”

  “Okay, fine.” Patrick-2 crossed his arms. “I . . . need to see her.”

  “You will. You deserve to see her.” Patrick handed back the paper. “Good luck.” He stood, walked into an alley between two buildings, and disappeared in a flash of green light.

  Jack hugged his brother from a doppel-mother in the alley behind Moonlight Pies.

  “I’m here for you, Bro.” Ben glanced around the frozen parking lot. He squinted against the sun’s bright reflection off the Terran snow.

  “Expecting someone else?” Jack didn’t see anyone nearby.

  “I never know who I might see here.”

  “It’s been awhile since you’ve been here,” Jack said. They may have forgotten about ‘Charlie’, the alias you used on your first visit here.”

  Ben’s eyebrows rose. “You think so?”

  “Not a chance.” Jake smiled. “C’mon. Let’s go inside and grab something to eat. My treat. Your money’s no good here.”

  Ben laughed. “That’s true.”

  Once inside, they found a table by the window. The restaurant looked half full, and the manager, Mr. Roscani, approached them personally.

  “Welcome home, Jack. I’ll set you up with a nice pizza on the house and— You!” His eyes grew wide as he recognized Ben. “Charlie, I don’t want no trouble from you.” Mr. Roscani glanced over his shoulder as if he expected CSD agents.

  “Don’t worry, Boss. I vouch for him.” Jack winked at his brother.

  “Okay. What would ya like?” Mr. Roscani’s thick brown mustache puffed outward whenever he spoke.

  “A large pizza with everything and a couple of lemonades.”

  “But no plantains,” Ben added. “Please.”

  Mr. Roscani sniffed at Ben’s comment. “Fifteen minutes.” He turned and walked toward the kitchen.

  Ben leaned forward. “So what’s the plan?”

  “I need to talk to Lori. She’s been avoiding my phone calls and ignoring my texts. In her last message, she said I should meet other people.” Jack sighed. “I think I’ve lost her.”

  “Maybe so, but not knowing for sure is making you crazy.”

  Jack nodded. “I want to see her face to face.”

  “Did you ask her to meet with you?”

  “Not yet. But I will.”

  A thin brunette with a ponytail brought over two glasses of lemonade. “Hi, Jack. How’s college?”

  “Hi Jinnie. It’s good. How are you?”

  “Going to community college part time. Accounting.” She smirked. “Someday I’ll buy this place and Mr. Roscani can work for me. I’ll even let him mop the floor at night.”

  Ben snorted and lemonade came out of his nose.

  Jinnie raised an eyebrow at Ben. “Where did you find this one—at the circus?”

  “He’s my friend from out of town,” Jack said. “We’re both here for the weekend.”

  “Hey, there’s a party at Brandon’s house tonight, 8:30 you should—Oh shit. Never mind.” She rolled her eyes. “Forget I said that.”

  Jack tensed his shoulders. “You think it’d be a bad idea for me to go?”

  Jinnie glanced over her shoulder to the kitchen and back and her ponytail wagged side to side. “You’d have more fun somewhere else.”

  “But Brandon’s my best friend.” Jack’s lips tried to smile. “Where else would I go?”

  “Have you spoken with Lori lately?” She put her hand on her hips.

  Cowshit. “Not really.” He looked at Ben who kept silent.

  She sighed. “Maybe you need to check in with her first.”

  “I think you’re right. Thanks, Jinnie.” He stared down at his hands on the table as she walked away. “Dip me in gas . . . People know.”

  Mr. Roscani brought the pizza, fussed over him, then moved on to another table. They ate in silence. Jack remembered the pizza tasting better. His thoughts returned to Lori.

  “How’s your grandfather?” Ben asked.

  “Fine.” Jack met Ben’s eyes. “Why?”

  “I heard Albert had a little dust-up with GranPat. Albert accidentally fell and cut his hand with his own razor.”

  “Balls up, I thought they were tight.” Jack said. “What did they fight about?”

  “I’m not sure, exactly, but . . . maybe Grandma Betsy?”

  Jack grimaced. “Why would—” Just like Lori. “Stop. I don’t want to know.”

  Ben nodded. “My thought exactly.”

  A loud crash resounded from outside, and a woman screamed.

  Ben stared through the window. “Oh Shit. I have to go.” Ben hurried out the front door trailed by a few curious customers.

  Jack dropped twenty-five commonwealth on the table and left the restaurant. Outside a woman hugged a ten-year-old girl on the sidewalk.

  “They tried to steal my baby! My baby!” she said.

  A white van with dark tinted windows lay on its side in the middle of the street. The passenger door had been ripped off and the front of the van smashed. A large man with a beard lay on the icy sidewalk. His arm looked broken and twisted.

  Jack’s eyes searched the street. He found Ben kneeling in front of the van next to a green . . . robot? Its legs were bent the wrong way. Ben spoke with it, but Jack couldn’t hear anything over an approaching police siren. He ran to Ben’s side. “What the fuck! Where did this robot come from?” Jack’s curiosity battled his disbelief.

  “Hold on to my arm.” Ben’s green eyes looked wild.

  Jack grabbed his doppel-brother’s arm and watched him manipulate a bronze medallion.

  A policeman approached and pointed his gun at the robot. “You two, stand back!”

  Ben’s fingers flew over a sequence of buttons and dials. With his knee touching the robot, he nodded to Jack.

  “I said stand back. Now!”

  A green mist surrounded Ben, Jack, and Amo, and they were no longer on Terra.

  Chapter 13

  Patsy walked beside the nurse who wheeled Betsy toward Holy Redeemer Hospital’s main entrance. Betsy appeared lucid, her color had returned, and she wanted to leave. Patsy had left her father sleeping at home, but she’d thought he might be awake by now and have at least called his wife. When Patsy tried to contact him, his phone went directly to voicemail. I should have woken him before I left the house.

  Patrick had said her father felt ill, but could she trust him to tell her the truth? She ground her teeth. How sick was Dad? How could he take care of Mom if he was sick too? Maybe her Commonwealth health policy wou
ld cover a live-in nurse for a few weeks.

  “What’s wrong, dear?” Mom gripped the wheelchair. “You look as if you swallowed a bad oyster.”

  The nurse flashed a clinical glance at Patsy as they neared the main entrance hall. A pearl hatpin anchored her white nurse’s cap to her head.

  “Mom, I want to take you and Dad back home with me to Carlston. We’ll stop at the house and pack some of your clothes.”

  “That sounds wonderful. I’d love to visit with you and Jack on your birthday. Did your father agree to come long?”

  “Not yet. He didn’t answer the phone.” Patsy’s shoes squeaked on the polished floor tiles.

  “Oh, Albert. He’s probably busy in the basement with one of his important projects.” A tear rolled down her mother’s cheek. “I love your father so much. He is a brilliant man. I’m just blessed to be his . . . his wife.”

  Patsy frowned. Mom still seems a little loopy.

  The nurse wheeled Mom outside into the bright sunshine, and they were buffeted by a blast of frigid air. Fastened in place, the nurse’s hat endured the onslaught. “Button up, Miss Betsy. It’s a cold wind blowin’ cross Terra today.”

  Albert studied the bronze medallion under a strong lamp as snow drifted against the basement window and blocked Terran’s morning light. The phone had rung several times, but he ignored the distraction. He had only a finite amount of time to determine the nature of Patrick’s medallion, before he might have to defend himself, or his family. His head ached from last night’s debacle with Patrick, and his brain pinged him whenever he moved too quickly.

  Damn him! Albert gritted his teeth—both his head and hand throbbed. He shifted on his lab stool and grimaced. Should he experiment with the bronze device and see what happens? Too dangerous. Would it be better to dissect the medallion and study the components? No. He might damage something. Without the schematics, he could only guess what it did and how it worked. Hmmm, Patrick’s lab computer might have what I need.

  After trying and failing to open a portal to Earth for the third time with his portal medallion, he gave up. Damn him again! Albert pounded his worktable with his good hand. He blocked my signal.