Surfacing (Spark Saga) (25 page)

Tess

             
I am walking across a cold, tiled floor in the dark.  I open the refrigerator, reach for a carton of orange juice, and pour myself a glass.  I set it on the counter and just before I put the carton back on the shelf, I look down at my toes, with their bright pink polish.  For no apparent reason, I come up with about a thousand adjectives to describe my toes—they are deliciously pink.  They are the inside of a ripe pomegranate.  A tulip.  One of those fruity frozen beach drinks.  An apple.  The color of happy.

             
Just then, I feel a warm hand across my back and I step away from the refrigerator, just before I notice a little white box setting next to the juice.  I start to ask, but I already know.  I take it and shut the door.  A hazy film—the reflection of the harsh light on my retinas—shades my view.  I close my eyes and I am in Zach’s arms, the most comfortable place in the whole world.  When he kisses me, I am nothing if not completely, endlessly pink.

             
Even in the dark, I can see that Zach is on the floor.  He’s kneeling on one knee with the box.  And would you believe, I don’t even cry?  I almost laughed because I am standing there in some trendy little kitchen—mine, presumably—with lime green curtains and daisy canisters—and I am smack in the middle of a cliché:  The man I love—gorgeous, amazing Zach—on bended knee, getting ready to propose.  Did people still do that?  But I just sigh.  It’s a cliché, but a good one.  See, I always knew Zach and I were meant to be together.  I just never expected it to be so darn funny when it finally happened.

             
Finally, a giggle works its way out, partly because I am nervous, partly because Zach is wearing those old worn out striped pajamas that looked like something my grandpa would wear.  “I’m sorry,” I say, on the verge of tears.  How absolutely wonky that humans are capable of laughing and crying at the same time.  Pure insanity!

             
Zach just grins the way he does—both innocent and cocky all at the same time.  Again—wonky!  “You know you want to,” he says.  There.  That grin again.  How the heck can he be so smooth and calm right now anyway?  God, I love him.

             
Now I’m crying and all I can think is that I’m glad I don’t have makeup on because it would make a serious mess on my face.  I get a little nervous, thinking I look like a fool.  But he just reaches up with a tissue and wipes it across my cheeks like it’s no big deal.  And really, it isn’t.  I just don’t like to cry, especially in front of people.

             
I nod, harder than is really necessary. 

             
“So, that’s a yes, then?  You’ll marry me?  Make me the happiest man on the planet?”

             
I nod again and something—a cross between a whimper (uber-lame) and the English word for yes, affirmative, right on, etc. 

             
And then, because I’ve never been too lucky when it comes to dreams, I wake up, just before the little white box opens in Zach’s hand.

             
My first thought is Alex.  I think the dream is about him, because it makes sense.  It fits in with what happened earlier tonight.  I’m still in that fuzzy state of waking, so it takes me approximately ten seconds to realize that it was Zach proposing to me in the dream, not Alex.

             
I sit straight up in my bed. 
What the heck?  What was that about? 
I am still groggy, plus my head is aching like crazy.  My mind swirls with images of Dani and Zach at the dance, Alex’s eyes, the music…what Cricket said about Zach having a crush on me and taking an opportunity to talk to me that night, which he did.  I remember Dani flirting with John on the back deck…maybe she and Zach are splitting up.  Who knows…anyway, it doesn’t matter.  Alex and I are together and I plan on keeping it that way.  And though I wouldn’t admit it to anyone, he makes me feel like a princess.  And for me, that’s a big deal.  Because I’m not really the princess type.

I read the clock on my nightstand.  It’s only 7
:15 p.m. and I realize I must have dozed off while finishing my homework.  On my phone, the message icon is blinking…a message from Zach:

TO:
                            Tess

FROM:
              Zach

RE:
                            A dream

A tiled floor.

Refrigerator.

Orange juice.

A little white box.

You and I both know how these things connect.  I know these things because I have read your mind, but also because I have already experienced it with you. 
My father was not only a gifted scientist, but he was a time traveler, and he gave us a special gift.  If you believe, meet me at my father’s lab tonight at 8:30.

Yours,

Zach

My brain scrambles to keep up with the concepts in Zach’s email as my heartbeat quickens.  Did he just have the same dream as I did?  Or is this really something more—something bigger than I could ever imagine? 

I don’t know why, but something is connecting Zach and me…. And it’s time I found out what it is.
  Just then, I get a text from Dani:

-It’s over…Zach saw me with John.

-saw you…

-kissing

-oh…hmm…sorry?

-that’s the way it goes

-you don’t sound too upset

-well i DO like john….and anyway, zach has been all distant and weird lately

-did zach break up with you?

-not yet

-how do you know he saw you?

-he texted me when it happened

-oh…well let me know if there’s anything i can do

-ok th
x


I take a deep breath and get ready to reply to Zach’s message
. 
Almost simultaneously, there is a message from Alex in my inbox: 
Hey sunshine…thinking of you.

Zach

It is 7:30 when I arrive at the lab.  As I was very early, I decide to go through my father’s files again and see if there is any information I have missed, anything that might confirm again what I already know, or give me clear direction.  I pull up a few files that I plan on showing to Tess, starting with the first Project Zero logs which detail the link between my father’s research on her and the beginnings of time travel research. 

All of it, I realize, is quite fantastic.  There is no reason why someone would believe any of it.  In fact, I am starting to regret even asking Tess to come here.  All of this might just push her further away.  She will be convinced that I’m crazy, and this, if nothing else, might lay a rather shaky foundation for a future relationship with her, if that foundation has not already been built.  I must consider that she already thinks I’m crazy.  With this thought, I consider the possibility that she might not show up at all, and I start to tear up.  After all my father’s (or whoever’s) advice, I have
managed to sabotage the entire thing because I’m too anxious or headstrong to believe that these things take time. Have I already changed the future, just by my actions over the last few days?

Not surprisingly, there is a message in my inbox:

TO:
                            Zach

FROM:
              E.G.W.

RE:
                            Time

It is a curious thing, about time.  It exists…. Forever.  It has no beginning and no end.  It simply
is.
  Remember the water analogy?  The tiniest of movement can cause ripples that extend, even invisibly, indefinitely.  A never-ending surface.  This is why we indeed have the power to change the future.  Even if we return to the past and alter the course of events to align with something we desire, thus changing the future, our newly influenced actions in the present will invariably affect the outcome.  Changing the past, though certainly attractive when we don’t like the way things are, isn’t always the best solution; it can, in fact, be counterproductive, and, even futile.

Let me explain further.  When I was captured, the CIA was able to access my memory chip, thus, they already have all the information they need, and, in fact, there have been great strides taken and milestones reached in time travel that I would have never anticipated.  They don’t actually need
you,
nor do they need my research.  But what they
are
interested in is stopping you from releasing this secret.  They want credit for all of it. 

Perhaps
now you realize why I have urged you to destroy the chips and the research.  I want you out of this entirely, and I want you to be safe.  Trust me, your life will be good.  You will have the things you desire.  But if you continue to pursue this research, or tell anyone about it…. I hate to imagine the outcome.  Please, I urge you to heed my request.

Sincerely,

Your father

If all of this didn’t make really good sense, I’d be angry right now.  He left me with all this information, and now I can’t do anything with it?  Even if I vowed to keep it a secret for the rest of my life, I’d always wonder if the CIA was watching me. 

It’s now 8:30 and no sign of Tess yet.  I make a split second decision and shut down the computer.  There has to be another way.  I must find a way to sync my chip with Tess’s, undetected.  I gather up my things and head outside.

The sky has clouded up, and I throw my hood over my head, make my way to my car.  It starts to sprinkle and I see a pair of headlights coming down the street.  The headlights pull into the lot, directly behind my car.  Tess.  She’s decided to give me a chance.  A spasm ripples through my stomach and my heart.  This is the beginning.  Maybe I won’t have to tell her anything—about time travel, my father’s research, none of it.  Maybe she is intrigued enough to simply give me a chance.  If so, I will cling to that chance and never let it go.  I will destroy everything and take the secret to my grave.

When I see both the driver and the passenger doors open, I am immediately taken back.  Who has Tess brought with her?  Alex?  Dani?  This is not a good sign.

How will I explain myself?  My behavior over the past few days?  I can’t tell them the truth….

I am reminded of Wells’s poor Time Traveler, who had a life
-changing experience—something so incredible and amazing that no one could ever dream it up—and was unable to communicate it to others.  Perhaps this is the greatest tragedy, to have this wonderful, incredible gift and be unable to share it with someone else. 

Is this how a great love story ends?  With one heart that believes, hopes
, and longs for a future that he sees so clearly, and another that will never see it?

A man in a black trench coat steps out of the passenger side and another from the driver’s side.  I am so startled I want to run, but yet I am immobilized.  The first one approaches me.  He is clean shaven, his light brown hair trimmed close to his head.  His skin is scarred from acne and his eyes are kind. 

“Are you Zach Webb?”

I nod, unable to speak.  The other man approaches me and stands a few feet behind the other. 

“Zach, I am CIA agent Harris and this is agent Brooks.  How are you doing this evening?”

“Uh—ok—uh…”  I stammer.

Agent Harris pulls out a wallet and shows me a badge; Brooks does the same.  My legs are wobbly beneath me and I think I might faint.

“Would you come with us please?”

“Why?  I mean, are you arresting me?  I need to call my mom—”

Harris takes me by the arm.  “Nothing to worry about son.  Your mother has already been notified.”

Notified?  Of what?

“What’s this about?”  I ask, though I already know the answer.  I pat my cell phone in my pocket, thinking I should call 911.  But then, these guys are probably a little higher on the food chain than the local authorities.  In fact, they’ve probably already notified them, too.  My stomach churns and I think I might throw up.

I lean over to heave.

“It’s ok, we just have a few questions for you…”  Agent Harris says, leading me to the car.  I sit down willingly, mainly to keep myself from falling over.  The door shuts.

As we pull from the parking lot, I see another car pull in beside mine.  A girl gets out and in my distraught fog of confusion, it takes me a few seconds to realize that it’s Tess as the headlights flash briefly on her face.  And even though I am scared out of my mind at the moment, inside my heart flips with joy.  She came.  She glances at us as we drive past.  I press my hand to the glass, knowing she can’t see me through the tinted windows.  But hoping she can feel my gesture in her heart.

Tess

             
I feel like a blast of wicked air has pummeled me.  I am out of my car, but my feet cannot move.  My heart pounds with panic, thinking I should really get in my car and get the heck out of here.  But I am frozen and my mind is skipping like an old record. 
Zach in a car, strange people driving, away. 
Who are these people and what is going on?  I fall against the door of my car and confusion and fear wells up inside me, seizing my throat like gloved hand as I watch the taillights fade and feather out into nothing.  I look at the sky, the moon intermittently appearing among the darkening clouds.  In the distance, a flicker.  Soon, a storm will come.  The lightning will rise up and consume the sky.  Rain will blur everything and yet, one thing will be washed clean and surface.  The truth.