Time Risk: A Time Travel Novel, page 6
Donald grinned. “I have to believe him, don’t I? We’ve dedicated our lives to this, and now we have the chance to make all our dreams come true.”
Rachel stared at him with bleak amusement and shook her head. “Time travel… Who would have ever believed it was possible?”
“Does it mean you’ve decided to go, Rachel? Will you sign the contract?”
Rachel looked down and away without answering.
Dr. Elsden clasped his hands together. “What’s your decision, Rachel?”
CHAPTER 11
With only an hour remaining, Rachel stood on the brink of her imminent time-travel adventure to Oahu, Hawaii, arriving on December 1, 1941. For well over a month, the lab had been a hive of constant activity, bustling around the clock. Every system had been meticulously tested and retested, simulations run, emergency procedures fine-tuned, and calculations and algorithms updated. The atmosphere was charged with focus, tension, and anticipation.
During much of that period, Rachel was sequestered in a secluded office at the rear of the laboratory, meticulously studying David Whitlock’s file as well as the extensive files of the three previous time travelers.
She devoted hours to watching movies, newsreels, and documentaries from the 1930s and early 1940s, and each day, for two hours, a female historian briefed her on the cultural, political, and economic landscapes of those years. Some of the highlights included:
The population of the United States in 1940 was approximately 132 million people.
Franklin D. Roosevelt was serving his third term as President of the United States.
The unemployment rate had dropped significantly from the Great Depression era, largely due to the mobilization efforts for World War II.
The Selective Training and Service Act was passed, initiating the first peacetime draft in American history.
The first McDonald’s restaurant opened in San Bernardino, California, laying the foundation for the future fast-food empire.
The United States declared war on Japan the day after the Pearl Harbor attack, followed shortly by declarations of war on Germany and Italy.
The Manhattan Project, the secret research and development project that produced the first atomic bombs, began in earnest in 1941.
At that time, many people smoked: women, cigarettes; men, cigarettes, cigars, and pipes. Drinking alcohol was also more prevalent than in 2024.
Rachel immersed herself in actual footage depicting the Pearl Harbor attack, meticulously examining detailed maps of Oahu and delving into firsthand testimonies from both civilians and military personnel. Among the many accounts she encountered, two stood out.
A young boy who resided near Pearl Harbor during the attack vividly remembered the shock and overwhelming fear. “I was playing in our backyard when I heard this loud noise, like thunder. I looked up and saw smoke rising from Pearl Harbor. My mom came running out of the house, yelling for us to get inside. We could see the Japanese planes flying overhead, and it felt like the world was ending.”
The second eyewitness account was also terrifying: “As the sound of an approaching airplane reached my ears, I glanced skyward. A lone single-engine plane emerged, its path aimed directly at me. It flew at such a low altitude that I could almost reach out and touch the wheels of the thing. And I saw the pilot’s smiling face. I thought it was one of our airplanes, so I waved. To my horror, the pilot responded by lowering his gun and firing at me. Fortunately, he missed.”
Rachel underwent a thorough physical exam and aced it, staying fit by hitting the gym, located adjacent to the lab, and jogging three times a week along the private road leading to and from the building.
Dr. Elsden arranged accommodation for her at the Cascade Haven Motel, located approximately five miles from the laboratory. The room was clean and comfortable, featuring a sturdy queen-size bed, a kitchenette, and a complimentary continental breakfast. Rachel often skipped their breakfast, instead walking half a mile to Millie’s Diner in the nearby small town of Fernwood. She wanted to see people other than the team and loved their pancakes and eggs.
Rachel was equipped with a passport, a driver’s license, and a suitcase filled with clothing appropriate for the early 1940s. A waist belt to be worn under her clothes had several pouches. One was filled with over-the-counter medications, two types of prescription sedatives, and a Z-pak. Another contained ten silver dollars from that time period. A third had several diamond rings valued at approximately $3,000 each in 2024. They would have cost about $300 in 1941. Donald Elsden advised her to use the vintage coins until she could sell the rings. He mentioned that getting authentic 1940s paper money for time travel purposes was nearly impossible. “While there are various sources for historical currency, such as collectors, auction houses, and specialized dealers,” he said, “acquiring specific denominations and quantities from a particular time period like the 1940s is too costly and highly challenging. Just hock the rings and you’ll be fine.”
Also packed in the suitcase was a Smith & Wesson Model 10, a six-shot .38 Special revolver, along with a valid gun permit. The pistol was highly favored by law enforcement during that era due to its reliability, and Rachel had the opportunity to practice using it at a target range located approximately ten miles away.
Ready for her journey to 1941, Rachel wore a fashionable 1940s blue and white striped cotton day dress. The dress had a fitted bodice with a demure boat neck and short sleeves, but was large enough in the waist to accommodate her inner waist belt. The dress had a wide, loose cloth belt that would easily cover the inner belt, and a gently flared skirt that fell gracefully below the knee. Completing her look, she opted for ankle socks and brown leather oxfords that made her feel twenty again.
Her wide-brimmed hat, crowned with a blue ribbon, would remain in the suitcase alongside her other attire until she reached her destination and got the lay of the land.
The morning Rachel time traveled, she stepped out of the lab to take in the bright day, the cool air and the snappy wind, inhaling deep breaths to cool the agitation of her mind. There was a green shine to the trees, and the pond was calm and sparkling.
Rachel had called her mother several times and texted, telling her she would be away on a security assignment for a few weeks. Her mother, in her usual understated way, wished her daughter good luck. “Come and see me when you can,” she’d said.
Mr. Whitlock had called nearly every day, demanding that they all get on with it. He’d said, more than once, in a booming, impatient voice, “What the hell are you waiting for? If you wait any longer, I might be dead!”
Returning to the lab from outside, Rachel made her way to the dome, its glass-like entrance open, seeming to beckon her to enter. Pausing at the threshold, she gazed once again at the crystal shaft, with its blinking lights and glowing numeric displays. Tubes and conduits coiled around the machine, linking it to the power source—a towering seven-foot computer emitting a steady hum and intermittent beeps.
As a girl, Rachel had wanted to be an astronaut. As she stood there, staring at the time travel machine, she thought, Well, I guess you could say this is a dream come true. There she was, standing on the threshold of a spacecraft, ready to be blasted off into the unknown, and she was absolutely terrified.
CHAPTER 12
It was time to go. With a shaky hand, Rachel felt the seam of her dress to ensure the Temporal Beeper had been securely sewed into a hidden pocket. The beeper would be her lifeline—her ticket from the past to the future.
As Donald had said when he’d handed it to her the day before, “It’s about the size of the old Apple iPod, and it’s made of chrono, which resists degradation over centuries. It also has solar and kinetic energy harvesters to ensure the device remains powered, as well as panels that will generate power from your movements, guaranteeing it never runs out of power in the past.”
Rachel had listened, wishing she’d taken a basic physics course at her junior college.
Donald had continued. “Also, concealed within the device is a miniature yet potent supercomputer tasked with managing the intricate calculations necessary for temporal communication. It will confirm your precise temporal coordinates. Upon arrival, retrieve it from your concealed pocket and check it. It will provide you with the exact date and time.”
Donald had narrowed his eyes on her, his stern expression chilling. “Don’t lose it, Rachel. It’s your only ticket back home to us. And, obviously, if someone else gets their hands on it, well… I’m sure you can imagine. It could really shake things up and play havoc with history.”
“Can you give me a backup, just in case?” Rachel had asked.
Donald slowly shook his head. “No… We can’t chance it.”
Rachel managed a controlled, serene smile when she looked left to see Hazel, Mike, and Finn, mumbling, looking as solemn as tombstones. At that moment, she would have preferred their crazy jokes.
Now, on launch day, Donald Elsden drifted over, dressed in a dark suit, white shirt and tie. Rachel noticed his white shirt peeked through the thinning fabric at the elbows of his suit coat.
“Well, look at you, all dressed up. Is that for me?” Rachel said, making her own joke.
Donald smiled. “Yes. I always dress up for launch day. How are you feeling?”
“Truth? Excited. Numb. Scared.”
Hazel came over, her moonlike face placid, her slacks loose, her sweatshirt displaying I CAN’T ADULT TODAY in bold black letters.
She extended her hand and Rachel accepted it. “Bon voyage, Rachel. We’ll be here, even if we won’t be born yet in 1941. But don’t think about that when you get back there. It will just make you crazy.”
Rachel shook her hand as Finn drew up, his hands pushed deep into his jeans pockets, his expression thoughtful.
“Hey, I like the close-cropped beard,” Rachel said. “Makes you look rugged.”
“Rugged? Never been called rugged. I like it. Should I let the beard grow out?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Rachel said, cocking her head to the right. “And put on a flannel shirt. It will give you that Irish rugged look.”
“Okay, Rachel,” he said, putting his full, sincere attention on her. “You’ll be just fine, you know. It will be a grand trip and a dandy experience.”
Mike wandered over, with no humor in his eyes. He nudged up his glasses, screwed up his lips and said, “So, Rachel, here’s the thing about time. Think about it this way. So, you’re outside the bathroom waiting to get in, and you really have to go. I mean, your bladder is at DEFCON One. To the person inside, you say ‘Hey, pal, hurry up. I’ve got to go big time.’ Now, the person inside shouts back, ‘Cool it! Keep your shirt on. I’ll only be a minute.’”
Mike pulled on his left earlobe and narrowed his eyes. “So, that’s how to think about the time thing. To you, that pee-wait will be one helluva long minute. It might even seem like an eternity. But to the person on the can, inside that bathroom, it will only seem like maybe thirty seconds at the most.”
Rachel laughed, grateful for the humor. “That’s it, Mike? That’s all I get from a brilliant physicist who studied atoms at MIT?”
Mike turned serious, and he took a step forward. “Here’s the thing, Rachel. We’re going to be here for you, and we’re going to make sure everything goes well. We’re going to get you there, and I promise we’re going to get you back. Okay, Rachel? When you’re ready, and you’ve done what you had to do, and saved the young Mr. Whitlock, engage the Temporal Beeper return button, and we’ll get you back. If it doesn’t happen the first or second time, don’t freak out. Keep trying. We are going to get you back, Rachel. Believe it.”
Hazel rolled her eyes at Mike. “Rachel doesn’t need to hear that again, Mike. She’s been through all this.”
Mike shot her a hot glance. “I don’t give a damn if she’s been through it a thousand times. Maybe I’m the one who needs to hear it again, okay? I’ve got a younger sister. Okay? Is that okay with you, Hazel?”
Hazel held up her hands to placate him. “Okay, okay. Cool down, Mike. Whatever.”
Rachel was touched by Finn’s and Mike’s sincerity, and she gave them all one final warm smile, and her smile was returned.
“I’ll be back before you know it,” Rachel said. “Keep the lights on for me.”
Turning from them, Rachel clutched her 1940s-style black leather purse and entered the dome. At its center sat the chair, fashioned from seamless chrome and crystal. Its ergonomic design was highlighted by luminescent blue strips and a broad armrest enhanced with blue running lights. Beside it rested her suitcase—an old, hard-shell, brown box suitcase purchased on eBay.
“Door closing,” Donald said, and Rachel’s breath caught, her throat tightening as the silver door whispered shut with a soft sigh of air. She hesitated for a moment before settling into the chair, feeling like she was in a private movie theater waiting for the previews to begin.
Her heart thrummed as she fought to overcome her fear and to focus. In a perfect time travel scenario, she would land precisely on the evening of December 1, 1941, giving her five full days before the attack on Pearl Harbor. That would be enough time to find and save David Whitlock, activate the beeper, and poof—be back to 2024.
In a perfect world, that’s how it would happen. But nothing was ever perfect, was it? She’d learned that by working as a cop.
The machine rumbled to life with a growling hum. Iridescent lights embedded in the dark, liquid-like walls cycled from blue to violet, then to red, before flashing back to blue. Rachel’s chair gently vibrated, the motion subtle but noticeable, especially in her calves, thighs and buttocks.
Resting her head back against the headrest, she tried to ease the tension in her arms and legs, but her hands trembled, her breath quickened. The runner lights on the armrests flickered then transitioned into an erratic blinking, as if accelerated calculations were pulsing through the machine.
Rachel was dizzy, feeling floaty and warm, with a tingling sensation spreading across her skin, like thousands of tiny pins pricking it. Bracing for what was to come, Rachel inhaled and shut her eyes. White dots swam across her inner vision. She opened her eyes, and with her eyes wide open, she saw blue lights, and she was suddenly in a snow globe, where millions of blue dots danced chaotically all around her, and then through her. She didn’t seem anchored in her body, and her mind felt stretched, her consciousness struggling to stay alert.
A bone-chilling whine enveloped her—like the sound of an electric drill—above, below, on both sides. Then, in a heartbeat, Rachel’s form shattered into streams of luminous fragments, as sparks ignited from her hands, legs, and chest. In a blinding flash of light, she was hurled into the center of a blue spinning funnel, her arms reaching, her body tumbling.
PHASE 2
CHAPTER 13
Wednesday, December 3, 1941
At just past 9 p.m., 21-year-old Private Randy Baker and 22-year-old Private Tom Lasky sat in a monitoring truck behind a radar screen, at the Opana radar unit in northern Oahu, Hawaii. It was situated 532 feet above a coastline where the charging waves were ideal for surfing—a spot that would attract thousands of tourists in the future.
Between the privates and Alaska, two thousand miles away, lay nothing but water, a few shipping lanes, and no islands at all. Some high-ranking officers referred to it as “the vacant sea.” Within that vast empty expanse, a fleet of ships could easily hide, with little chance of being spotted.
In the last few weeks, half a dozen mobile units—including monitoring trucks, generator trucks, antennas, and trailers—had been scattered around the island, and Privates Baker and Lasky were stationed at one of the most important locations. In addition to their surveillance duties, they were also there to keep trespassers and the curious away from the equipment.
Private Lasky, a thin young man with a boyish face, sat in a monitoring truck, perched on a canvas chair behind a green radar screen. He wore a headset that connected him to the bustling side of the island, where Army headquarters were located about thirty miles southeast. Nestled between the rugged Waianae and Koolau mountain ranges lay the central valley of Oahu, home to swaying sugarcane fields, and pineapple plantations that produced fifteen million cases of fruit and juice annually.
Also, across those fields, about thirty-five miles away, lay the Naval Base of Pearl Harbor, which served as the nerve center for the U.S. Pacific Fleet—an indispensable asset for American naval operations in the Pacific Ocean, housing battleships, cruisers, destroyers, submarines, and aircraft.
The radar station had two direct lines to Fort Shafter, which was about a dozen miles away. The tactical line connected directly to the plotters at the Information Center, who interpreted radar data and made real-time, urgent decisions. The administrative line handled routine, non-urgent communications, such as coordinating schedules and reporting minor issues.
Private Lasky studied the 5-inch radar screen oscilloscope. Its vertical lines would rise from a baseline to signify aircraft presence. The 45-foot rooftop antenna reached into the night sky, and a dim spotlight was the only illumination other than the glowing radar screen.
There was a soft breeze, the rumble of the sea, and the curl and thud of waves, as both privates focused on the radar screen, searching for any blips.
“See anything?” Randy Baker asked.
“No… all quiet,” Lasky responded. “No Army or Navy planes are going to fly till dawn, so what the hell are we doing here all night?”
Private Baker stood above Lasky, and he grinned. “Hey, you never know, a Jap plane might fly in from nowhere and say hello.”
“If the Japs are gonna attack at all, it will be in the Philippines. At least, that’s what I heard from First Lieutenant Parker.”
Baker shook his head and made an ugly face. “Yeah, well, what the hell does he know about anything? He’s always shooting his big mouth off like he knows something, and he don’t know nothing more than anybody else. I’m surprised some bird colonel don’t bust him for that big mouth of his. Let’s face it, Lasky, what the hell does anybody know about anything? Is there a war coming? Is there not a war coming? All I know is that if there is a war with the Japs, I don’t want to be fighting in any swamps or jungles. The mosquitos and the fever will kill you before the Japs do.”
