Luke's Quest 01 - Prisoner Of Time (v5.0), page 4
The sun was just rising in the east as I pulled my car into the drive. The town was coming alive again after its night of rest. Clearly, I was the only ghoul in town. There had been a few cars on the road as I came into town. Most had been people heading to work. No one seemed to notice me.
Once inside the house, I placed the backpack into the gun safe. I took comfort in knowing the gun safe was securely fastened to the wall in my office. No one would be able to get to it without waking me. Still I double-checked every door and lock. I wanted to be secure.
I forced myself to sleep. I planned to be thoroughly rested and alert when I opened the next journal. I did wonder if the device still worked. It would have to wait. I explained to myself that it had waited 123 years. Waiting a few more hours would make no difference to anyone, not even me.
As I tried to sleep, a passage of the first journal came to mind:
Unfortunately, we were not able to convince all of our colleagues of the potential for harm. What in our time was only a few days later we found ourselves speaking German. Lisa and I had been back studying the John F. Kennedy assassination in Dallas when everything in our history began to go fuzzy and fade out. We returned to the agency to find that Hitler had won the 2nd World War.
Because Lisa and I had been outside the time stream when this event had happened, we retained our knowledge that something was wrong. We were able to track down the problem and correct it. A coworker had traveled back alone and killed Winston Churchill, then convinced Hitler to invade England while making peace with Russia. The man, Josh Brown, was imprisoned within the agency itself; not because any laws had been broken, but he could never be allowed even to talk about the event. The time units we used were then modified to require that they work in tandem only.
I cleared my head but wondered, if this agency could imprison a man for life without a trial, what would they do to me for possessing one of their devices?
Chapter 3
When Paul Robertson wrote his journal seeking a rescue from 1881, he may have had no idea what he was asking another human being to believe. I now had on my dining room table something that looked like a laptop computer, but which, according to his journal, was the device that somehow allowed him to travel back to 1881. He believed that Lisa returned to the future, but that wasn’t provable yet, as Lisa's return took place in my future. My time is still the journal's past. Using my calendar and planner, I began to develop a timeline so I could do the math. Today was Monday, April 26, 2004. Paul and Lisa left for Jacksonport on January 10, 2005. If I understand this strange time travel stuff, I have 229 days to solve this mystery. I need to find a way to warn Paul, rescue him, or find who trapped him. Maybe it’s all of the above.
I thought about just taking this entire mess over to his house. I could imagine knocking on someone's door. I’d say, "Hi, my name is Luke. I found the time device you left in 1881. By the way, a few days later you died in a hotel fire. Do I get a reward for returning it? I am saving your life."
He would either throw me into a mental institution or call the government agents who would arrest me or kill me for knowing too much. If he did believe me, then the people who trapped him in the past would come after me. Either way, I’d have a good chance of ending up dead if I talked about this thing. Should I solve the mystery, then maybe I would have a story to write. There was still a chance for some money out of this; at least, that was my hope.
Carefully, I opened the laptop. Everything seemed just fine. I reached for the power key. Paul had explained it was powered with some type of nuclear battery, so maybe it did still work. My finger was on the power button when I hesitated. Maybe if I pressed this button, I would go back in time. I had second thoughts and carefully moved my hand away from the keyboard.
Reconsidering my options, I began to read the second journal. I hoped it would explain how the device operated. I’ve never been one to read the instructions first. Few men I know ever read the instructions. Perhaps it’s just ego that has our gender convinced that we can assemble or operate things without instructions. In this case, considering the consequences of a mistake, I thought it prudent to read the instructions first.
The second journal was almost entirely blank. It contained the following, short passage:
August 17, 1881
To Whom It May Concern:
I’m burying the device. It has trapped me in the past. I’m from a time in the future. I’ll write a second message in a different journal. If you find this machine without the first journal, it will bring you harm if you try to use it. If you found the other journal first, then you will need it to help you operate it safely. Do not use it other than for the background information stored in it. There is much information stored in this device that might help you to rescue me or warn me, if you locate it in time. The second journal will explain more about that.
I waited near Jacksonport for several weeks hoping Lisa Collins would return for me. I thought there would be some sort of rescue, but it never happened. Each night I pray either to be returned to the year 2005 or to be allowed to die in my sleep. I can only theorize that either Lisa was the one who sealed my fate, or else she died during her return trip.
Since I was trapped here on April 7, 1881, I’ve been using my time to continue my overall mission. My partner didn’t know our true mission; she was only part of the cover story. Those in charge of our operation felt it was too dangerous for her to know the complete scope of our work.
I’ve been working in the town of Jacksonport. Soon a band of Mormons in a small wagon train will arrive. They will buy supplies that contain large sums of gold and silver. The gold and silver they are taking comes from the old South. During the Civil War, spies stole gold and silver coins and jewelry. Melting the gold and silver into bars and coins made for easier shipping. The spies had planned to use it themselves.
The group of Mormons learned of this stash. They were able to acquire it for themselves. The treasure has been traveling by boat to New Orleans. It’s now coming up river to Jacksonport. My mission was to have everything ready so that it wouldn’t go to the Mormons. The gold and silver found their way to Salt Lake City and were used by the Church, but I’m watching for a group working for a one-world government. My bosses want that money diverted into a hiding place. They will recover it for their own use in 2005.
There’s much more to this device than I told in this brief note. I’m dividing the story to protect the device. If our team rescues me, then it’s safe. If I’m not and I need it, then it’s here. If I die in the past, then it means a team member trapped me here.
Operation of the device requires a secret word. The key is simple but only Jeff can help you find it.
Paul C. Robertson
From the phrase "requires a secret word" I knew it would be password protected. Having the other journal, I knew Jeff was another time traveler killed in the past, but due to the paradoxes of time, brought back to life as they returned. I took out the other journal copies I had made. I thought it seemed simple. "Jeff can help you find it" was such a simple clue. Jeff's last name is Lyons. I would try Lyons, Lyon, or even lion as the password.
I turned my attention to the machine. I took a dry cloth to wipe all the dust from it. Using a can of compressed air, I cleaned the keyboard and the drive. Once again I reached for the power button. This time I pressed it for a second, and the device came alive. It booted faster than any computer I had ever seen. A message appeared. "PASSWORD PLEASE."
"This is too simple," I thought. I typed in Lyons. "FAILED ATTEMPT" appeared on the screen. I typed Lyon. Again, "FAILED ATTEMPT" appeared. I tried lion, lions, and Leo. None worked.
I had read the first journal hurriedly and since that time read several other documents. I opened my files and began to scan the journal for the account of Jeff I could recall reading. After a few minutes I found the passage I sought:
There is another type of time paradox we discovered. It isn’t really a paradox as such, but was a shock when it occurred. During an early information-gathering trip, Jeff Lyons and I traveled back to record and photograph Christ. Originally, the time travel was to be strictly for use of the small cameras and recording devices that we could hide. We were to go to the key historic events and record them. Later, we planned to secretly interview these people.
We were still learning our trade, so to speak. We had never really thought that much about all the thousands of details that might create problems. I guess had we discussed all the things that could go wrong, we might never have finished that discussion. Each trip, we learned more. We learned the most from the things that went wrong.
Jeff is a great linguist. He speaks so many languages and can fake dialects and accents in such a way that he blends in with whatever culture he needs to mix with at the moment. Our plan was to have as little interaction as possible. On this trip we had followed a group of men to a river. We thought they might be preparing for a baptism. We hoped they would lead us to Christ. Imagining that we would soon have digital images of Christ being baptized by John, we were very excited and pressed closer. Unfortunately for us, the men began to strip and bathe, so we did, too. That was a major mistake. Actually it was a deadly mistake.
No one had ever thought to ask Jeff or me if we had any strange marks or tattoos. As Jeff bared his chest, the man next to us saw the "Tasmanian Devil" from Loony Toon Cartoons. He had never seen a tattoo, let alone a drawing of a Tasmanian devil. The man began to scream about demons. Several men surrounded Jeff, grabbing him by his arms and legs so he couldn’t move. These men were clearly convinced that Taz was either an evil god or the mark of some demon. So much for his interrogation. These people never gave him a trial. They released him. As he stumbled back to his feet, and before he could offer any explanation, they began to stone him. My first instinct was to rush to him, but either being a coward or a great researcher – I’m still not sure which – I remained back, hidden by the mob. I watched as they killed my friend. When he was dead and they moved a way, I recovered his body. I made a deal for a pack animal to carry him away from where we were. I said I wanted to bury him in the desert away from prying eyes.
Once I had his body totally out of the sight of prying eyes, I placed one of our time- travel devices on either side of him, as far apart as I could reach. Then I pressed the return button on each device, as they must work in tandem. The bubble within which we traveled enveloped us, and we began to return to the present. This is when the strange paradox occurred. The further we moved back toward our time, or maybe it was forward in time, the more his bruises disappeared. By the time we reached the present, he was alive and well. He did retain the memory of the stoning incident and some aches and pains, but other than that, he was fine.
I was so glad I wasn’t traveling with our leading technician, Amy Barnes, who seems to find a new body part each month to get pierced or tattooed. I began to think how fortunate we were it was only a tattoo that was seen on this trip; the outcome with her could have been much worse for both of us.
We have since theorized that had the death been something more brutal, such as burning at the stake, disembowelment or something more hideous, Jeff would still be dead. Since that trip, no other team member has suffered a death, so we have not explored that paradox any further.
It’s also possible that each time we change or revise history we cause an effect to happen. Perhaps the next time you experience déjà vu, it’s because time has been reset at that same moment, so you are indeed aware that you have just repeated the event.
While this lesson may seem frivolous to you, it’s important you understand the challenges and difficulties we face. I wonder if it’s because of something I was a part of changing and that my partner, my time traveling teammate, wanted to undo without my being there that has left me trapped in the past.
Clearly the clues were hidden in this passage, I sought the right combination. I tried stoned, killed, and even linguist. Again all failed. I reread the notes. They were on a mission to observe Christ. I tried Christ, but it wasn’t the password.
I thought about how Paul described Jeff in the journal. When in doubt, I often try the simplest things. Jeff was stoned when the locals saw his tattoos. The password that worked was Tasmanian. The character Taz was one of the tattoos Jeff had on his body.
Clearly, Paul wanted the information discovered, but he wanted it protected to some degree, as well. If someone had been a grave robber, then he never would have gotten the device to work. Paul had misled me somewhat. It was a working laptop as well as a time-travel device. There was no need to wait. I could contact Paul today if I wanted to do so.
Since the password worked, the main menu was now available. Across the top was the phrase, "Project Time-Ops.” The next line read, "CLASSIFIED." There were three main sections: "1 - Archives, 2 - Rules, 3 - Operation."
I chose to take things in order. First, I opened the archive files. It was a collection of time travel reports. Apparently, each team was required to submit a summary of every trip taken back into time. This may not have been a complete list of the different journeys, but it was a sampling of each team's adventures into the past. This would make interesting reading when I had more time.
The second section contained a summary of the rules and the paradoxes, a collection of short memos covering the mistakes or problems occurring on earlier trips. One file caught my attention. Labeled "Current Contact Information," it offered some hope for the present.
Opening this file I was pleased to find a list containing everyone employed by Time-Ops. I had rounded up all the suspects in one move! The file contained each person's name, home telephone number, cell phone number and email address. It also contained the individual's current home address. I checked the numbers against the telephone numbers I had found for both Paul and Lisa; the information matched. By clicking on each person's name, I found a brief biography as well as a current photograph. The photographs were clearly like a driver's license or identification photograph, but allowed me to associate faces with Paul and Lisa.
According to the biographical page, Paul C. Robertson was born on November 8, 1970, in Beavers Falls, Ohio. He stood almost six feet tall and weighed 202 pounds. His degrees were earned at Yale, so I was impressed. He was a handsome looking man. He had thick brown hair with brown eyes. I noticed a scar on the corner of his left eyebrow that made me wonder if he had been a boxer in his youth. For this photograph, he had no smile, just a solemn expression. I surmised he disliked having his photograph made.
Lisa was five foot and six inches tall. She had raven black hair pulled tightly into a small bun in the photo. Her eyes were a deep blue, as Paul had described. The photo made them almost a blue-black and most intriguing and very appealing. It was easy to understand his attraction to her. I was attracted to her, even though I had never met her. She was born on January 26, 1979 in Perris, California. I studied her face. She didn’t look the type who could plot the murder of a coworker. She had such a fun-loving twinkle in her eyes that I began to wonder if she were the intended victim of this plot. Something about her eyes captured my heart.
With each page that I read, the people became more real to me. They were no longer questionable; they were actual flesh and blood. I took the time to look at each page. There were very few employees. I had expected hundreds, yet it was fewer than 30.
I even read Doug Collins’ file. While the file didn’t mention his being married to Lisa, it was clear he wasn’t the science type. He had degrees in accounting and management. His entire professional career had been working with the United States federal government as an accountant or manager in various forms. I opened his photo. He appeared to be a nice looking man born on April 14, 1968 in Brooklyn, New York.
Then I noticed a sub file which was almost hidden. It was called “LisaXXX.” The title caught my attention. It was another note written by Paul. I now understood that this device was his and he was the only person to use it. I doubted such files as this would be on any other device:
Lisa and I just returned from another Roman trip. There are more photos of her to add to the other photos of her I brought back from pervious Rome and Greece trips. From earlier Rome visits I have photos of her naked in the community baths. In Greece she was naked and posing for the artist who sketched her, only this time he used her as his inspiration for some statues. I included the photos, with her body digitally blurred, in my reports. Doug suspects and she knew that I had the original photos on my hard drive at home.
This trip was almost as good as the time we were forced to hide to watch a prehistoric tribe. The loin clothes we thought we could get by with were not what they wore, so we spent the entire trip in the nude. To stay warm, we were forced to sleep in a spoon fashion against each other. My naked crotch was pressed against her naked bottom. She could feel my body shaking. She patted my hand that was resting on her stomach and said, "Don't worry. He will never know how close you were."
For some reason I didn’t sleep at all that night, but the next time we return to Rome, I’ll seduce her.
I was shocked, but starting to get a better idea of the relationship between Lisa and Paul. It could be she needed to get even with him for some event he hadn’t reported. I could understand his suspicions of her. If she told her husband or if he somehow found this report, that could make Doug the culprit.
