Remember Me (51 page)

Brian L. MacLearn

through the wormhole I would not be sitting on the ground with the me who went back the first time. It would be another do-over, a loop that would continue until the wormhole went untested. The world would replay, for better or worse, every time someone reset it by entering the wormhole. I had to go back to change this last outcome, to set the path right. I needed to erase what I had severely altered. I lived with the pure faith that I had rewritten time. If I didn’t go back and erase the mistakes, it would continue forward on this course. I couldn’t accept the direction of this timeline. I also didn’t believe that I would ever be able to make it one hundred percent whole again.

I couldn’t make it perfect. I would never be able to make it exactly like it was. It was too late for that! The damage was done the moment I fell through the wormhole. What I could do would be to exist in the shadows and be like the noble captain steering his vessel through turbulent waters. I didn’t believe that if I went back and shot myself the moment I arrived, somehow falling into a grave and being removed from sight, that the world would correct itself. The original course had been rewritten. I could only attempt to rewrite again, this time trying to make it as close as possible to the original script. I had a part to play, and I only prayed I had enough years left in me to set the course towards calmer waters.

I would be ready this time, and I wouldn’t need to involve the ones I loved. I had amassed enough money, pre-nineteen eighty-five, and stored it away. I logged the outcomes of the sporting events and the ups and downs of the stock market. I did my research and prepared myself the best I could. I had the original papers the family had made for me as Peter Warren. I would take them with me and use them to reconstruct myself without the “Family” this time. I realized that it wouldn’t be the same. The “Family” had inserted Peter Warren into the world.

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I only needed the base identification to make my own pathway. In establishing my presence, what I had done in months I would take years to do this time. I would start with a better hedge on money and knowledge. I had the ability to travel and start my life anywhere. I would be seventy-five when I entered the wormhole for the last time. My years were definitely numbered. There would be no third chance for me. I needed to do it right this time…or else.

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Not this time!

May 22nd, 2010

“Andrew, I’m scared
to death,” Amy said into my ear as we stayed locked tightly in our embrace.

“I know…me too,” I responded back engulfing her even

tighter. I kissed her on the cheek, like I would my sister. As much as our love had grown the last year, it remained contained within the hope of what could be. After the accident she and Stacy had become more my protectors than anything else.

They had come to the understanding that I had to return, so they did everything they could to push me along, even when I nearly gave in. Only one thing had changed, changed dramatically in fact. The Amy of this time had found a way to convince me why she needed to return with me to the past.

It was so plausible. My heart, my body, even my spirit was at its utmost limits. I was going to be severely challenged. The task was too large and too great to hope one frail man could manage it all alone. I fought it every second of every day, but in the end her rationale was too justified for me to try and deny it. All my best laid plans became our best laid plans. The straw that broke the camel’s back was my age, and the simple uncertainty that I would even survive the trek though the wormhole. Stacy had even tried to convince me to let her go as well. I couldn’t understand why either of them would want to go…hell, I didn’t want to go. I was not looking forward to visiting nineteen eighty-five again…for the third time.

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When I had doubts, Amy would remind me of what she had

lost as well, a dirty trick that never failed to stab at my latent guilt. She continually told me how she too was just as much a part of the story that needed to be rewritten. Two women, doubling up on me, were more than I could handle. I gave in and accepted the inevitable. In truth, I was glad to have someone to share the burden with. It became even more important for me to finish my book. I worked on it every waking moment and even in my dreams. It was no longer just my guide.

It would have to be Amy’s as well. If I survived the wormhole, it was a safe bet that I wouldn’t make it to age one-hundred.

I certainly wouldn’t be making another trip if we didn’t get it right this time. Amy would become Olivia Jane Harris from North Dakota. There was a little girl, nearly the same age as Amy who had died when she was four months old. Her name

had been Jane Olivia, but we figured if she went by Olivia Jane there would be less of a chance that anyone would notice.

Jane Olivia’s entire family had died in a car accident in nineteen seventy-three. Only one of her maternal grandparents remained. One died prior to nineteen eighty-five, the other would pass on in nineteen ninety-one. Amy’s chosen name was common enough. We doubted she would come under suspicion, but neither of us would ever say never.

Given enough time, people can blend in and make new

pathways, be accepted without much regard for where they came from or what was in their past. That was our hope. On this trip back in time, we would become more of a watchdog.

We would try not to be instigators. I could say this now, but in truth I wondered if I could still let certain things happen without trying to prevent them. And what about Amy…could she? It was a moral dilemma about which we spoke often and probably would the rest of our lives. I knew in the end it would fall on her shoulders to decide if the world was right, or right S 393 S

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enough. Even if I was healthy, I would never make it to the next wormhole, but she might.

“We need to make our way to the scrap-pile,” Stacy conveyed, breaking up our embrace.

“I know,” I replied. I gave Amy one more hug, and she buried her head into my shoulder.

Before I broke away from Amy, I jokingly asked, “Are you ready for the ride of your life?”

“As good as I can be,” Amy whispered into my ear. I could already feel her tears soaking through my shirt.

“It will all work out. You have to believe and keep the faith no matter what. You can do this.”

Amy released me and stood where she could look me in

the eyes, “You promise?”

“On my life!”

“Not funny!” she retorted, but I could see that familiar “get it done” resolve starting to take over from the fear she felt. She playfully slapped me on the shoulder and then turned to the couch to pick up her backpack.

“Make sure you snap the waist strap too, I don’t want you to lose the pack in twelve-hundred B.C.”

“Now wouldn’t that be something? We don’t even know if

this wormhole is the same as the last one…We could end up in the Ice age, and I didn’t pack my parka.”

“Funny,” I said, smiling as I looked at her. I shuffled back towards the dining room to retrieve my pack from the chair.

The three of us exited out the garage door and made the walk over the crest of the hill, toward the point of no return. No one spoke, each of us lost within our own personal thoughts.

I couldn’t speak for the others, but I was praying with every ounce of my soul. My heart was racing and not in a good way.

I could taste metal in my mouth, and the others commented to me that they had the same sensation. We’d been over S 394 S

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what the most likely outcome would be. Amy and I took our respective places, just off to the side of the junk pile. Stacy stood far enough away that it was hard to hear what she was trying to say over the wind. The wind suddenly died down around us and the sun broke through the clouds. I called out,

“It’s almost time! Get ready.” The air began to crackle, and I felt the sensation of electricity dancing across my skin.

“Oh my God,” Stacy said. The air began to shimmer in

front of the junk pile and suddenly a black vertical crack appeared in the broad daylight. It stretched ever wider and began to expand. It emitted a sound like a run-a-way locomotive that became nearly intolerable to bear. As it grew in size, the more it sucked at the air outside around it.

Amy had to scream so I could hear her. “I love you! I’ll make it right!” I didn’t understand her comment, and before I grasped its intended meaning, she fell into the yawning mouth of the wormhole.

I was about to follow her into the wormhole when a strong hand clasped me hard on my shoulder. I tried to shrug it off and move toward the wormhole. I yelled, “I have to go. It’s going to close!” The strong grip held me in place. I turned to face the person who was stopping me from following Amy. When

I looked into his eyes and saw the determination on his face, I didn’t know whether to be relieved or upset. One look in those eyes conveyed everything I needed to understand. There was an intense motivation behind them. I silently unhooked my backpack and handed it off into his waiting hands. Stacy cried as her head nodded up and down in support of my decision. With the backpack hastily snapped around his waist the man stepped into the wormhole in my place and was gone. It was all for the best…really it was…

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Par t III

Time for Another Round

Olivia saves time.

May 22nd, 2010

I had nearly two acres of grass to mow and the storm looked like it was less than a couple of hours away, if even that. I grabbed my ear-plugs and headed out to the pole-shed to get the riding mower. I had gotten the front yard done before I took a break for lunch. I added more gas and climbed up in the seat. The JD360, with a 52 inch mowing deck could make quick work of the grass, but it was the stopping to pick up wayward balls, sticks, and miscellaneous items the kids’ drug all over the yard that took the most time. I guessed I would probably end up mowing the section around the trees in the rain. With the leaves fully out on the trees I would have some shelter from the rain. I started the mower, backed it out of the door, set the throttle to high and headed for the grass. As soon as I crossed the rocks of the driveway, I lowered the mowing deck and engaged the blades.

I made good progress on the lawn and made it into the

tree-lined section before the rain had even gotten close. It was a good thing too, because the sky was growing every more menacing, I’d already turned the headlights of the mower on to help combat the increased darkness. I could feel the electricity charging the air around me. The temperature had already decreased at least fifteen degrees. The sweatshirt I had on, once tied around my waist, barely kept the chill out. Dangerous S 399 S

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looking and jagged lightning bolts crisscrossed the sky off to the west. The thunder was so loud that I could hear it above the roar of the mower’s engine and my ear plugs. The dark clouds were alive with streaks of yellow as the electricity brightly played across the dark contrast of the storm clouds.

I was about to head for the patch back by the junk pile when I noticed a white Escalade turning into my drive. I didn’t recognize the SUV. I sighed under my breath. I was so close to finishing, and the sun was beginning to peek out through the darkness. I headed the mower towards the garage and met the SUV there. I could see through the passenger window that it was a woman driving. I wasn’t at all prepared for who stepped out of the car.

“Hello Andrew,” she called out to me.

I instantly recognized the voice, but the face belied the truth. The woman standing in front of me had to be in her late sixties at least, maybe even older. She had on a pair of blue jeans and a long-sleeved white shirt with the cuffs folded back.

Her hair was more grey than blonde and barely touched her shoulders. She had bright red sunglasses on, and I knew what color the eyes were behind them. It was not Amy that stood in front of me, but it sure could have been if this lady was younger or Amy had been older.

I couldn’t think of a thing to say. My mouth moved silently open and closed. She started to walk towards me, and suddenly I felt uneasy. She walked like Amy, talked like Amy, and looked eerily similar to Amy. I took a step back from her. She stopped and shook her head from side to side.

“It’s okay, Andrew. We have so much to talk about, but

first you need to see something.” She walked right past me and headed through the backyard toward the little crest of the hill out back. I stood in my place. I was uncertain whether to follow her or splash cold water on my face. I surely must be dreaming. A fly buzzed my face, and I swatted it away. So much S 400 S

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for the dream, I took one hesitant step, and then fell in behind her, matching her pace. We stopped at the top of the hill and looked down the slight incline towards the junk pile.

“We don’t want to get any closer than this,” she said and held her arm outstretched against my chest.

“What…why…who are you?” I asked.

“Later,” she said forcefully. “For now, just keep your eyes on that old oil barrel there,” she added and pointed with her right arm outstretched. I followed the direction her hand pointed. I noticed that her hand had no jewelry on it, and her fingernails were well manicured and painted a dark shade of red.

The wind had completely ceased, and I could feel the air charged with electricity. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. My arms felt like thousands of ants were crawling all over them. I brushed at the invisible insects as a sound like a freight train became deafening. My mouth tasted like cop-per and became very dry. My first thought was that a tornado was coming. The women next to me must have anticipated my thoughts because she raised her voice to say, “Not a tornado…

a black hole…a wormhole through time.”

“I’m sorry,” I tried to say over the increasing roar, “but we need to find shelter fast.” I started to move, and she grabbed my wrist in a firm grip. “We need…” I never finished the sentence.