Time Lost: A Time Travel Novel, page 19
Bert shot her a glance, grabbing her arm. “No. Don’t.”
Sally smiled sweetly at him. “It’s time, Bert. It’s okay. I’m ready.”
She gently removed Bert’s hand, opened the door, and stepped out, closing the door behind her. Bert shoved his door open and got out.
“Sally, wait.”
Just then, a dark sedan drew up, veered right, and braked to a stop in front of the SUV. The passenger door swung open, and a trim woman appeared, wearing a blue business suit, with slicked-back dark hair and a determined expression. She started for Sally. When Bert moved to intervene, Detective Gilbert stepped in front of him, shaking his head. Gilbert was four inches taller than Bert, and fifty pounds heavier. Intimidated, Bert stepped back.
The woman came up to Sally with a smile and an outstretched hand. “Hello, Mrs. Mason. I’m Kara Gonne, from the CIA. Perhaps Dr. Stanley mentioned me to you. I’m sorry for all this drama, but at least I can finally meet you.”
The police car’s sweeping blue light slowed traffic, and the chopping blades were loud as a helicopter swept over.
Kara looked at Detective Gilbert and gave him a nod. When he stepped to the side, Bert circled the front of his car and marched up to Kara. “What the hell’s going on here?”
Kara held her smile. “Hello, Mr. August, or is it Mr. Hansel?”
Bert’s eyes hardened as he looked at Sally. “You don’t have to go with these people, Sally.”
Kara said, “No, she doesn’t.”
That disarmed Bert. “She doesn’t?”
“No,” Kara said, looking at Sally. “But Sally, I can help you.”
“How can you help me?” Sally asked. “I’m living in a nightmare.”
Kara looked about. “I’d rather not discuss it here. Too much traffic, and too many people. What I have to say to you is complex and personal. But if you hear me out, I think you’ll agree that you’ll have more options to choose from than you do now. We can talk while we travel.”
“Travel to where?” Bert asked.
Kara looked at him. “Mr. Hansel, obviously you care for Sally, but can you really help her? Can you offer her any kind of future?”
“Sally can choose that for herself.”
Sally’s eyes lowered. “I’m tired. I’m just so tired.”
Kara said, “I understand, Sally. I can offer you help, rest, and protection, and, as I said, I can offer you options you may not have believed were possible.”
Bert shook his head. “Don’t do it, Sally.”
Sally looked at him tenderly. “Bert, you’ve been so good to me, but I can’t keep this up, and I can’t keep leaning on you.”
“You can lean on me. You can start a new life. I’ll help you. You know that. I will.”
“Time’s running out, Sally,” Kara said. “You have to decide.”
Overhead, storm clouds were gathering for a sudden and fierce Florida rain storm. Thunder rumbled.
Sally took three steps to Bert and embraced him, and he folded her into his arms.
“Okay, Sally Mason,” Bert said, his eyes misting up. “All right. You go ahead, if that’s what you want to do, but know that if things don’t work out, you have an old codger of a friend and a home to come back to.”
Sally drew back and kissed him on both cheeks. “I love you, Bert, and I’ll never forget you.”
Bert’s mouth trembled. “Okay, kid. Please let me know how you are and what you decide.”
Sally nodded, and then she reached into her purse, drew out an envelope and handed it to him.
“What’s this?” Bert asked, accepting it.
“Just a little thank you note, Bert.”
Sally turned, followed Kara to the sedan and climbed inside, as a burst of wind brought the first drops of rain.
Bert sat in his car, with his windshield wipers swiping the glass clear, watching with blurry damp eyes as the dark sedan’s red taillights faded into the falling silver rain.
He said to himself, “Well, Sally, this is how we first met, wasn’t it? In a rainstorm.”
Bert looked down at the envelope in his hand, his name written on it in beautiful script. With his thumb, he slid open the sealed flap, removed the handwritten page and read.
Dear Bert,
When I was a girl, I wasn’t very close to my father or my grandfather. They were not unloving men, but back then, men weren’t so open about their feelings. I had a high school teacher who used to say that “all things happen for a reason,” and “there’s good and bad in everything,” and “we should always try to look on the bright side of things.”
I have tried to do that during the last few weeks. I just want you to know, Bert, that you have been the kindest man I have ever met, and I will never forget that kindness, humor, and generosity. You were the good amidst the bad, and you were like a bright sun shining when darkness surrounded me. I don’t know what the future holds, but I’m pretty sure that we will soon be separated forever.
Please know that I love you with all my heart, and I will think of you fondly whenever I look up into the night sky and see all those twinkling stars. I’ll think of you, Bert, and remember you. I’ll think, “Bert August, the artist, came from one of those stars.” And then, I’ll thank God for sending you to me when I was lost and cold and wet, walking in a rainstorm. As my mother used to say whenever she met a good person, “They have angels whispering in their ears.” Yes, Bert, you are my guardian angel.
Sending all my love to you,
Sally Anne Mason
CHAPTER 39
Sally was seated on the edge of a queen-sized bed in the spacious bedroom of a 3-room suite. Besides the comfortable living room, there was a kitchen/dining area stocked with breakfast food and snacks. Kara Gonne had told her she was living in a highly classified area somewhere in New Mexico. She’d also assured Sally that once the doctors had completed their physical and psychological examinations, she and Sally would convene with others to discuss Sally’s options for the future.
Dressed in black slacks, a light green and white striped blouse, and low-heeled black pumps, Sally tied her hair back into a ponytail with a green scrunchie. The hairstyle made her feel young and confident, evoking memories of her high school days when she was a popular, exuberant cheerleader, and lots of boys asked her out—before she went steady with Ronnie.
As they had driven away from Bert and headed to the airport, Kara had tried to reassure her. “There’s nothing to worry about, Sally. Please relax. Once we get to New Mexico, you’ll have your own VIP suite, so you can rest. Clothes, makeup, and toiletries have been provided for you. Anything else you want or need, just let me know.”
“And then what?” Sally asked.
“We’ll conduct some tests and ask you some questions, and then we’ll have a meeting to go over your options.”
“Am I a prisoner?” Sally asked.
“No, you are definitely not a prisoner. We only want to protect you and gather information about what happened to you. You are very valuable to us.”
“You mentioned something about options,” Sally said.
“Yes, and we’ll discuss those during our meeting.”
Sally and Kara had flown on a private jet from a small airport in Florida to somewhere in New Mexico, and during the flight, Kara had said little. That was fine with Sally, who’d slept through most of the flight. It was dark when they arrived, and so Sally wasn’t able to study the surrounding area.
Sitting on the bed, Sally reflected on her life in 1953. She couldn’t shake the feeling that those times had been simpler and more relaxed compared to the fast-paced reality of 2023, with everyone constantly being pulled away from conversations by TV and cellphones and breaking news stories.
It seemed to Sally that modern technology distracted people, heightened their feelings of isolation, and hindered social interaction.
The advertising was aggressive and invasive, and it was everywhere, not just on TV, but also on cellphones and computers and blinking billboards. It was disruptive, loud, and relentless, like children shouting for attention.
Throughout her short journey from Indiana to Florida, and during her time with Bert and Terry, she’d been unable to watch TV for more than thirty minutes at a time. All the noise and fast images gave her a headache.
Sally had also come to realize that virtually anything could be bought with a plastic card or, incredibly, with a cellphone. This scared her. Few people, if any, paid for anything with cash, and she couldn’t imagine how anyone could keep track of it all.
And what had happened to the open fields? They had been overrun with big houses, sprawling condos, and tall, glass office buildings. The charming family-owned shops, the grocery stores, the shoe boutiques, the appliance stores, and the cozy restaurants had vanished, leaving behind chain store restaurants with cookie-cutter facades and bright plastic interiors. They reminded her of the artificially colored candy her mother put in holiday fruit cakes. Every car was a big block of a thing, one nearly indistinguishable from the other, and they went speeding along as if they were powered by rockets.
The trendy fashions showcased on internet sites seemed juvenile, and the hyped-up talk shows she’d watched on TV were shockingly vulgar. Her parents would have been horrified.
Sally concluded, with sadness and nostalgia, that her world back in 1953 was a kinder, simpler place, without super highways, super computers, and super heroes exploding across the super huge TV screens. Everything was called super in 2023, but she wasn’t so sure.
Sally was certain that in 1953, the skies were bluer, the water and the food tasted better, and, with the ending of the Korean War in July 1953, the wars were mostly over. Despite the looming shadow of the atomic bomb, President Eisenhower assured the American people that the bomb would never be used again, and there was a rising optimism about the future of America and the world.
The modern world baffled and frightened her. She didn’t feel emotionally, physically, or mentally attuned to it, and she was homesick for her time, her life and her kids in 1953. In an ironic twist, she felt like an extraterrestrial herself, as alien to this world as was the extraterrestrial who had propelled her into the future. Sally stood up from the bed and began to pace.
Over the past four days, she had undergone numerous physical examinations and psychological assessments, both written and verbal. Her interactions had been limited to female doctors, who were cordial but reserved.
Nearly every afternoon, Kara joined Sally for a short walk outside in a small, enclosed garden with high walls, and then they shared dinner in Sally’s suite. Their conversations had remained superficial, with Kara inquiring about Sally’s parents, friends, and education. Kara had never disclosed facts about herself, nor hinted about what was to come for Sally.
A knock on Sally’s door turned her head toward it. “Yes?”
“It’s Kara.”
Moments later, the two women strolled down a brightly illuminated, lengthy corridor. They descended a flight of steel grated stairs to a lower level, took a right turn towards a pair of gray doors, and proceeded down another hallway until they reached an additional unmarked gray door. A hidden security camera, equipped with face recognition technology, scanned Kara’s face, and emitted a bleeping sound. The door eased open and, with a hand, Kara indicated inside. Sally entered first, and Kara followed.
The top-secret chamber lacked windows and wall decorations, and it held the scent of some lemon disinfectant. Sally’s attention was drawn to a desk, a refreshment area, and a circular conference table.
Kara ushered Sally across the blue and gray tile floor, toward the table where Morgan Compton and Ayita Wells stood, waiting. After introductions, they all sat down, Sally squeezing her hands on her lap, Kara settling back into her chair, and Morgan sitting forward, intrigued and curious. Ayita’s welcoming smile and calm demeanor helped to ease Sally’s tension as the room settled into a cordial yet serious atmosphere.
Morgan straightened his blue and gold tie, adjusted his dark suit coat, and then folded his hands on the tabletop. “At long last, I am delighted to meet you, Mrs. Sally Mason.”
CHAPTER 40
Sally sat stiffly as if she were in a court room, waiting to be sentenced for a crime.
Morgan chose his words carefully. “I hope you feel at ease, Mrs. Mason. You must know by now that none of us have any intention of harming you in any way. You’ve been through quite an ordeal and, I’m sure, there have been times when you have felt like the loneliest person in the world.”
Sally remained silent, but she thought, I wish Bert was here.
Morgan let his words settle before moving on. “Mrs. Mason, we want to help you, share with you our knowledge and our thoughts, and offer you our guidance. Are you comfortable with that?”
Sally nodded. “Yes.”
“Would you like some bottled water or coffee? A soda, perhaps?”
“No, thank you.”
Morgan leaned forward with a smile. “Was your chicken dinner good?”
“Yes, but not as good as my own roasted chicken. I miss my own cooking,” Sally said, realizing that she meant it.
Morgan held his smile. “I bet your baked chicken is delicious. I would have loved to sample it.”
Morgan glanced at Kara. “Kara thought the chicken was overcooked. Ayita is a strict vegetarian, so she obviously stays away from chicken. I ordered baked salmon and it came, as always, with limp asparagus. I’m sorry to say that the asparagus is always overcooked here, but, undaunted, I continue to order it, ever-optimistic that one day the chef just might not steam it to death.”
“Have you asked the chef to cook it less?” Sally asked.
Morgan shook his head. “No.” He lifted an eyebrow, confidentially. “You know how temperamental chefs can be. I’m afraid he might poison it or something.”
Sally looked at him doubtfully.
Kara gave Morgan a side-eye grin, aware that Morgan was trying to put Sally at ease. “So, Sally,” Kara said, “aren’t we just the most fascinating people you’ve ever met, talking about limp asparagus?”
Sally smiled, feeling her shoulders relax. She pegged Morgan to be a quiet intellectual, an introverted man with a weird sense of humor and a frank manner.
“Maybe I should talk to your chef,” Sally said. “Maybe he’d let me share my chicken recipe with him. I promise I won’t say anything about the overcooked asparagus.”
“I’ll make a note of that, Sally,” Morgan said, grinning. “It might do us all good to have a change around here.”
Kara spoke up. “Sally, you’ve been patient with us, and we thank you for that.”
“Have I passed all my examinations?” Sally asked.
“Yes, you have,” Morgan answered. “But we’re going to ask your indulgence one more time as we pose some additional questions to you. Will that be all right?”
Sally nodded wearily. “Yes, but gosh, haven’t I answered every possible question there is? What more can I say that I haven’t already said?”
“I know you’re sick of all this, Sally,” Morgan said. “But we have learned that when a person experiences a dramatic or traumatic event, their first impression sometimes differs from their second, or fifth, or even their sixth, impression.”
Kara added, “When the mind is relaxed and when one is able to stand back from the event and watch it unfold from different perspectives, often something is seen or felt that wasn’t seen or felt before.”
“But you do know that Dr. Stanley put me under hypnosis or, at least, a kind of hypnosis?”
“Yes,” Kara said. “But she hasn’t shared that information with us.”
Sally nodded, as impatience flashed across her face. “All right, then I’ll tell you everything I remember about that night. But I hope this will be the last time.”
Sally took them all in, her expression determined. “When I finish, will you then tell me what my options are, as you called them? Will you tell me what kind of future I can expect?”
Morgan said, “Yes, Sally. Absolutely.”
Sally nodded. “Okay, then let’s get this over with.”
“Are you comfortable with us taping the session?” Kara asked.
Sally agreed.
Kara found the recorder button beneath the table and switched it on. She named everyone present, stated the date and time, and then looked at Sally and began the questioning.
Sally adjusted herself in her chair, and then proceeded to answer every question. She recounted the events, beginning with a concise description of her departure from Rosemont High School after her shorthand class. She mentioned the name of the last person she’d spoken to in the parking lot before climbing into her car and driving away.
Ayita closed her eyes, tapping into her inner senses to merge with Sally’s state of mind, thoughts, and emotions.
Morgan leaned back in his chair, fully attentive, while Kara diligently recorded notes on her laptop.
When Sally described the spaceship, she closed her eyes, as if she were visualizing it. “It’s there. It’s over the road. It’s just hovering there.”
Ayita saw it, too, within Sally’s mind. It was an iridescent, disc-shaped, pulsing space craft, descending from dark skies, hovering over the road. Ayita felt Sally’s sudden hot terror, and she grabbed either side of her chair, gripping it so hard her hands turned white.
Sally’s eyes squeezed shut and her lips trembled. “Oh, my heavens, I didn’t hear that. I’ve never heard that before.”
“What?” Kara asked. “What are you hearing, Sally?”
Sally stammered out. “… The being—that radiant being—said something that I heard in my head. It said, ‘Be at peace. Time will save you.’”
CHAPTER 41
Outside the airport hangar, Kara, Ayita, and Sally sauntered along a paved pathway, bundled in winter hats and coats. Kara held a flashlight, its beam directed forward. Above them, the dark New Mexico sky swirled and shimmered with stars, creating a tranquil atmosphere. The world and all its problems, and the future with all its possibilities, seemed light years away.
