Timelines Page 15

  “Apologize!” he spat. “You don’t expect me to accept that?”

  “Perhaps not, but it’s true all the same.” I could see the encounter was tiring him quickly. He needed rest and something for the pain that I could see he was fighting. Tough old bastard. He wasn’t going to show any weakness. I found I was impressed by him. After a year here, I would have expected to find a discouraged, broken man. A man willing to do anything for a chance to get out of here. Instead, he had flourished. He had won the respect of the priest and the people here, and had managed with meager tools to make visible improvements. Even fighting the pain, he refused to give in. I could only imagine what he could have done if he hadn’t been fighting the illness.

  “Look,” I admitted. “The priest has told us about the pain. It doesn’t take a doctor to realize you have cancer of some form. The pattern fits. It has to be. We have some medicines in our travel kit. They can help the pain.” Our basic kit didn’t include the miracle medicines that could cure the disease. Those drugs did not travel well, and required special storage. It was the reason Carol hadn’t had them on hand when she found me. But we did have them at the infirmary back at the base, if we could only get Morris there. I couldn’t tell him that, and there was no reason to right now. He wouldn’t have believed it anyway. But we could give him a peaceful night.

  “Just leave me,” he barked. “I don’t need anything from you!”

  It was best to leave. I would try again in the morning. But as I left I signaled Dix, who would stand by in case the priest could convince Morris to accept the painkillers. Later Dix nodded as he walked towards me in the large room we had moved into. “He drank the coffee,” Dix noted with a smile.

  Morris was sitting on the low wall just outside his room watching the compound come alive for another day, and warming in the summer sun. I slid onto the wall a few feet away and plunked the two mugs down between us. His eyes shifted at the sound of the mugs as they clattered against the stone of the wall. A crinkled grin formed at his mouth. “Still trying, I see.”

  “Someone said you finally drank what I left. Figured you might be ready for a refill this morning.”

  “You forget how much you miss it after a time,” he said. “The smell reminds you how badly you really want a cup.” He reached down and grabbed the offering, this time without hesitation, signaling he had made some kind of decision during the night. “Thanks for the pills,” he said sincerely. “Best night I’ve had in a very long time. The doctor warned me it would get bad. But you think you can always deal with the problem later. Doesn’t seem real at first.”

  “You knew?” I was surprised.

  “Almost two years now,” he admitted. “No pain then, of course. Knew time was going to run out. Wanted to finish a few things, then I would take their damn therapy. Know people who were never the same after all that poison was put into their system. Some don’t make it. A few it helps, I guess.”

  I had watched a couple of friends go through the treatments years ago. Didn’t know if it was better now, but the treatments I witnessed were brutal. It was easy to sympathize. I felt momentarily guilty. I was forever spared the possibility of cancer and the associated treatments. “How bad is it?” I asked, genuinely concerned. For some reason I was beginning to like this old man.

  “It’s starting to get pretty bad. My doctor said it would go that way. From what he told me, I’d guess another month, then it’ll be over.”

  “Look,” I offered. “There are things we can do about that. Not here, but. . .”

  He interrupted. “Too late now. I know it’s gone too far. But, the pills. If you have more, I’ll take them. For later.” His discomfort with the topic showed. He took a long swallow of the drink, and then looked at me. Clear of pain this morning, the intelligence showed through in through those calm gray eyes. “What do you want Crampton?”

  I had to take the opportunity while it was there. Later, he may not be as willing. It seemed unfair to take advantage of his mood, probably the result of the painless night, but I said, “I have a couple of questions I really would like you to answer for me.”

  “I figured,” he snorted. “Okay, I’ll trade. I have a few questions myself.”

  “Fair enough,” I responded. “Maybe you should go first.”

  He nodded. “My daughter,” he asked. “How is she?”

  I was surprised. I hadn’t thought he was close to anyone, but although he tried to hide it, emotion cracked his voice. “She is doing fine,” I began. “After you disappeared, she took over your affairs and has been running things ever since. She has had issues with your brother and sister, but so far has managed to put them off.”

  “I’m surprised you are so aware her situation,” he asked curious. “How recent is this information?”

  “Recent,” I responded, thinking of my meeting with the federal agent. Up until then I hadn’t known much at all about the Morris family, but he had let slip quite a bit while explaining about finding the old gun. “And quite by chance. I had a meeting with someone who has been in close contact with the family.”

  “And my company; the people who worked for me? What has happened to them?”

  “Your vice president has been running things for the past year. He seems to think you will be back as he has not taken over your title or your office. But overall, the company has prospered. I hadn’t seen any indication of other changes, but my information is based on discussions with a few of your people who work at Aero.”

  He nodded, taking in the information. It seemed he was pleased by the actions of the people he had left in control, as though they had validated something about themselves he had suspected. The way he looked at me before the next question warned me that we were headed into a different area. He waved his hand indicating the country around us. “Where are we?” he asked.

  “Europe. About one hundred miles from Rome,” I replied.

  “Ummph” he muttered. Then staring directly at me, watching for my response he asked. “And just when is this Mr. Crampton?”

  I caught my breath. He would detect a lie. Somehow he had pieced it together. But if I wanted the answers I sought, I had to be up front with him now. We would sort out the consequences later. “About 650 BC,” I finally answered.

  His eyes didn’t waiver as I told him. He wasn’t surprised. “That long ago,” was all he said.

  “You knew?” I asked. “For how long?”

  “A few months after I was left here. It’s not something that one is ready to accept. But it fit. That with other things I had studied for many years. It answers a lot of questions about you. Maybe, when I answer all your questions, and if I tell you about what I have found over the years, you’ll tell me how you do it. How you travel through time?” Eagerly he watched my face. I held the answers to questions that had nagged at him most of his life.

  “My gun,” I began awkwardly. “Somehow you found the handgun I lost. You had it analyzed, and found it to be impossibly old. Later you connected it to me. Would you tell me about it?”

  “I wondered if that was it. That means someone found the basement?” He glanced my way for confirmation.

  I nodded.

  “That gun was one of the mysteries that bothered me for years. My brother found something in Europe just after World War II. Gave it to me. Curious item. Got me started looking for oddities all over the world. I made a lot of contacts and they would offer me things they found. One day, back in the sixties, one of them came up with the gun. No one built anything like that then. Where did it come from? Carbon dating implied it was over a thousand years old. How?” Pausing, he waited to see if I would add anything.

  “I lost it. After being attacked and badly wounded, it fell out of my holster while I was trying to get to safety. I bought it new in 1990, but what you care about is when I lost it. It was in 538 AD, just a little south of the Grand Canyon.” There was no point now not to tell him. He knew about time travel, so what difference did it make if I could travel
to different times?

  He smiled, as if marveling at the possibility. He finally had an answer, mystery solved. He probably would not have believed it a year ago, but after being carried off to a different time himself, the possibility was no longer so unbelievable. “I finally traced it to you,” he explained. “Almost by accident I saw one like it advertised somewhere. I was able to contact the government agency that keeps records of gun sales through some people I know, and they gave me your name. I learned the model had only been manufacturer for a few years, yet I had had the thing in my possession for almost thirty years at that point. That’s when my interest in you and some of your friends started. I didn’t believe in time travel. Not really. But you were connected to one impossible artifact, why not some of the others.”

  Now it was my turn to be confused. “Other artifacts?” I asked.

  Smirking, he pointed to my chest. “Like the one you have around your neck under your shirt.”

  My hand started involuntarily towards my chest before I could stop it. “How the hell. . . . . ?”

  Morris was enjoying this. “I caught a glimpse of it one day. Had people follow you for months, trying to get pictures. Finally got a good picture one day when you had your shirt off. I have a number of pieces in my collection like it. That’s what got my attention that day. Looks like tarnished copper, but it ain’t! Amazing stuff. Odd properties. Do you know what it’s made of?”

  I shook my head.

  “So, it’s not yours then? Something you found after all, just like me. At first I wondered if you or you friends were the originators. Especially with the gun being linked to you. Does yours do anything? Most of the bits and pieces I have appear to be inert.”

  The discussion had taken a turn I wasn’t prepared for. I had a number of questions about what he had left behind that the NSG had found, but what he was telling me now had potentially even greater implications. Once again, I found myself willing to trust him and let him in on more of the secret. I was beginning to wish we had been able to work together the past decade rather than being adversaries, not even knowing why.

  “It opens the pathway into the time complex,” I answered simply.

  This time I had surprised him. “My God! You mean the time machine isn’t yours. You didn’t invent the means to travel in time. You found the damn thing? Then who does it belong to?”

  I needed a minute to think this through. I wished Naiya or Carol were here, but decided that in lieu of one of them, Dave should be a part of these discussions. It was risky, as Morris would remember Dave. But this was too important. I explained Dave’s presence, and a brief overview of his role. After a momentary flash of anger, Morris calmed and agreed that Dave should join us. He had already learned the magnitude of what we had been hiding, and accepted the lengths we had gone to protect the secret. We spent the rest of the morning exchanging information with Kurt. By lunch he was worn out, but current with our project, and it’s lack of progress. He had one last surprise before he reluctantly ambled back into his room for a little rest.

  “What if I were to tell you I have what appears to be a translator device?” he said savoring the looks on our faces.

  “A translator,” Dave questioned. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s what my brother found way back in 1946” he answered. “Made of that same strange corroded coppery shit. First time I ever saw the stuff. Almost tried to burst it open. But when I talked around it, it made a bunch of odd growly sounds, and symbols appeared on this diamond hard flat screen on the one side.”

  “You turned it on” an excited Dave jumped in. “How the hell did you do that? We have never learned how to turn anything on or off.”

  “Didn’t,” Kurt responded. “It was on and always has been.”

  “You mean the thing has been on for more than fifty years?”

  “Guess so. Wondered about it from time to time. Nothing I could do anyway. There isn’t anything on it that moves.”

  “How do you know it’s a translator?” I asked.

  “Really just a guess,” answered Kurt. “But it’s smart. Tried different languages. Takes it a bit to adjust, but then a word that means number three, for instance, in English, German, Spanish all give the same symbol on the screen. Also, when technology advanced, I analyzed the growly sounds on the output. Once again the same. Seems like that is what it is doing. But I never had any of the symbols to compare, and I couldn’t even guess what the sounds were for.”

  The implications were obvious to all of us. Here might be the way to start interpreting the writing on the equipment and the journals in the complex. But Kurt had to rest, and Dave and I were forced to wait a few hours to learn more. While we waited, Dave and I brought Dix up to speed.

  That evening we were a foursome. Kurt told us about the other items that must have been found with the gun. The Feds had a lot more to investigate than we had thought, which was worrisome. More information it was important to get back to the team. Kurt was amused when he learned they had accessed the computer files and were attempting to break them. He wasn’t the least concerned, but wouldn’t tell us why.

  In the end a deal was struck. Kurt, who was more ally than enemy suddenly, agreed to get the translator for us. In exchange, he would go back with us. He wanted to see his daughter before he died. That’s when we told him about the uptime medicines available that would have no problem curing his cancer. Disbelief fought with hope as he considered the possibility that he might have many years ahead of him. Time maybe to live and see the end of the puzzles he had pursued his whole life.

  We were anxious to get back to the complex, but Kurt still needed a lot of rest. It was late, and the trip back was going to be long. Kurt wouldn’t be able to walk that far and would have to ride. Even the cart, with its constant bumping and shaking was going to be hard on him. We would have to take it slow, which would mean most of the day would be required to get back. I went to bed with more hope than I had known in years.

  That night it rained.

  Chapter 14

  Early Roman Empire

  650 BC

  The rain continued off and on throughout the night. It never came down that heavily, but the recurring sound of raindrops outside the window and the duration of some of the storm cells began to be cause for concern. Too much rain, and the road back to the tunnel entrance would be clinging, slippery mud for extended stretches. It would be questionable whether the horse drawn cart would be able to pass through some areas at all. Too much rain and we would have to consider delaying the return until the ground had time to absorb the moisture and regain some degree of firmness. That could be days.

  We had no way to know what the weather had in store for us. It would be possible to walk back, of course, but that would create a different problem. Determined as he might be, Kurt was in no shape to walk that far. He would be able to manage a few miles, but it was more than twenty miles back to the entrance. He was going to have to ride most of the way. If a decision was made to walk back in order to ensure the important discovery we had been handed was shared, we would have to split our group, leaving someone to escort Kurt back when the weather allowed. It was not an option to leave him here and come back later. What he had found was too important to risk anything happening to him. And he wasn’t telling where he had stashed the artifact until he made it home. Our alliance wasn’t that old and he needed some assurance we were being straight with him. That probably meant Dix would have to stay, as he and Dave were the only two really familiar with the route back. Given time I could find the way, but that wasn’t an acceptable approach except in an emergency. I didn’t want it to go that way. We should go together, for a lot of reasons. For Kurt’s sake, sooner was better. He needed the facilities back at base to start his battle against the cancer that was running unchecked through his system.

  Morning brought decision time. A leaden sky, with intermittent winds greeted our waking. The ground was dark, and soggy with water absorbed during the night.
Puddles scattered randomly across the fields outside the compound reflected the morning light. It didn’t look good. Still, we were all eager to try. None of us more than Kurt it seemed, who saw his release at hand and was eager to be on the way. While we ate, Dix made an exploratory trip out beyond the fields, walking more than a mile to test the ground. He returned from his outing as we were finishing up breakfast, his boots heavy with mud.

  “It’s possible,” he judged. “Just barely. But it will be slow going, and we will probably have to work around some areas, going off the road into the fields. We may not make it by nightfall,” he finished, suggesting a possible overnight on the trail. We weren’t really equipped for that, but could survive it in an emergency. “If it rains today we are going to be stranded,” he added unnecessarily

  It was good enough. I had been watching the sky. Although it was a dreary day, additional rain didn’t look likely, at least for the moment. But I didn’t know the area or how quickly things could change. Encouragement came from the priest, who also didn’t think there would be additional rain today. The others voted to go.

  We all pitched in getting ready to leave, which didn’t take very long. We left all of the trade goods with the priest, keeping only enough in the way of supplies to last a couple of days. We kept, of course, the medical kit, as Kurt was likely to need additional painkillers, especially if we were delayed. The crude cart was filled with straw and a couple of coarse blankets for padding in addition to our meager supplies. Then it was time for good-byes.

  The priest solemnly clasped Kurt’s hand in farewell. They still couldn’t speak to one another, but they had established their own means of communication over the past year. Dave and the priest took the longest. Well, they did speak the same language and had some history. Later Dave told me the priest had asked if we were taking Kurt to die at home. He had answered in the affirmative. There was no way we could tell him of the life saving possibilities waiting for Kurt just a few miles away. We couldn’t share those with people across the timeline. The impact of such an act couldn’t be anticipated. Besides, he had no way to properly store the medicines against a future need. Best to let him think the obvious.