Luke's Quest 01 - Prisoner Of Time (v5.0), page 6
"I'll be damned," he said. "She lied to us."
We walked a few more feet when Willie pointed out a security camera. I took photographs of it. It was the type of camera in a metal box. It rotated by remote control to scan the entire area. We moved a little further down the road. The camera turned to follow us.
"I think we have gone far enough," Willie said.
"I agree," I told him. "You take the camera and head back to the truck."
He took the camera but asked, "You aren't planning on doing anything stupid are you?" He looked worried.
"I’m planning," I told him, "on taking a few steps into the woods to take a leak."
He laughed. He started walking toward the truck. I took about six steps into the woods. I had my back to the camera as I unzipped my jeans. I looked around the trees; I could see no more cameras.
A loud crack rang through the air. I have been a hunter long enough to know that sound. I also knew that hunting is illegal in the National Forest. I froze to the spot. I did remember to zip my pants. As I glanced anxiously around, I heard another shot ring out. This time the tree next to me exploded. Wood chips fell onto my head. Instinct caused me to fall to the ground and roll next to a tree for protection. I looked around but could see no one.
The next sound I heard was the truck engine and horn. Willie had driven down to where I was standing. He was leaning down to make as small a target as possible as he reached across to open the passenger door inside the truck. I jumped in. He thrust it into reverse. The wheels threw rocks and gravel as he backed out. He didn’t slow down until we were back in Mountain View.
We didn’t even speak until we were past Mountain View. Willie finally broke the silence. "You pick the strangest times to go to the bathroom."
We both laughed.
On the trip home I wanted to tell Willie the truth, but I didn’t dare. He accepted the fact that we had just trespassed too far. Most likely, someone wanted to scare us. I suspected that Christina had been on the telephone to Time-Ops' security to warn them that she had people asking questions.
Willie seemed serious, as well as a little scared, as we drove more than halfway home without stopping. He did stop for the red traffic light, but that was all. We found a place in Batesville to buy a cold drink.
Getting back into the truck, Willie asked, "Luke, why does an elephant paint its toenails red?"
I knew what was coming. Willie loved bad jokes. "I don't know Willie," I said, even though I had heard this joke dozens of times before.
"So he can hide in a cherry tree." Willie laughed. He always laughed at his own jokes. "Did you ever see an elephant hiding in a cherry tree?"
"No, Willie," I said. "I never saw an elephant hiding in a cherry tree."
"It works really well, doesn't it," he replied and laughed again.
We drove a few more miles before Willie spoke again. "You know, Luke," he said with his exaggerated southern drawl he uses when he isn’t that serious, "maybe the next time you go to Blanchard Springs Caverns, you should paint your toenails red."
I laughed. "But, Willie, I didn't see any cherry trees in that forest."
Willie had a wonderful way of soothing upset feelings. When my father had died, he had been there for me. After my mother's funeral, he had stayed at the house with me for a few weeks. He just had a natural way of making things seem and feel better.
Arriving back in Blissville, Willie turned onto the street where I live. We noticed an Arkansas State Police car in the driveway. We both knew it meant Steve Thomas, Willie's older brother, was there. He stepped out of his car as I unloaded the camera bag. Willie was gathering the trash. He didn’t mind eating in the truck, but he cleaned it each day.
Steve is just a little shorter than Willie but even a stranger could tell they were brothers. Steve keeps his dark hair cut short and has a more squared chin than Willie. Willie, from his hard work has a more muscular build. In high school Steve had competed in many track events and was a wide receiver in football. He still loves to run, and his body reflects the long hours he spends running each week.
I tossed Steve my house keys. By the time Willie and I were inside, Steve had the coffee pot started. Like Willie, Steve had been a frequent visitor in my house all of his life. We sat around the kitchen table just chatting when Steve grew very serious.
"What kind of trouble did you guys start today?" he asked.
Willie and I looked at each other. "None that we remember," I said, but feared the worst.
“The State Police received a license check on Willie’s pick-up,” Steve explained as he reached into his pocket. He had a piece of paper that looked like a fax printout. He called it a "bolo." It was some law enforcement term. “It seems someone at Blanchard Springs Caverns recorded Willie's tag number and is checking you guys out. Since we have the same mailing address, I got a phone call about it.” Steve wasn’t mad or upset but was curious.
“It was my fault,” I explained. “We were on our way back from the Caverns when I had to stop and take a leak. We saw the sign that said posted, but we were on the gravel road just off the paved road, so we really were not trespassing.”
Steve laughed. “I thought it was just a routine deal.”
“We saw a television camera,” Willie added.
“I suspect they got the tag number from it,” Steve observed. "No big deal, but I wanted to know for sure."
We had coffee, and then he left. He told Willie not to be out too late. Steve always acts the big brother, watching out for both of us. It was several minutes after he had gone when Willie picked up my digital camera. "I want you to look at the last two photographs," he said.
I suspected, knowing him, he had taken one of me going to the bathroom. Willie was just that kind of practical joker. I took the memory card from the camera and went into my office. I booted the computer. It took the normal few minutes of waiting for it to load, and then I inserted the memory card. There were the photographs of the Caverns, a few I had taken of Christina and Willie together, the sign, the camera watching us, but the last two photographs made me gasp. Willie had been walking to the truck when he had set the camera on telephoto. He had photographs of two men in camouflage gear with AK-47 rifles. They were not wearing just military type camouflage shirts, pants and hats, but they even wore masks over their faces. The shirts had no patches to indicate any unit name.
"We got lucky today," I told him.
"The next time you’re up to something," he said, "give me some advance warning."
"I didn't know I was up to anything this dangerous," I replied. "I swear."
He laughed and headed home. Once alone, I copied the photographs to the hard drive as well as to some more CD's for additional protection. If this continued, I would have to get a larger safety deposit box at the bank, I thought. I placed all the new copies in the gun safe and then checked the house again. I fastened the locks on every door and window. I would take no chances of a midnight intruder.
I settled down for an evening of reading emails. I had some research needing my attention. No matter what else took place, I still had to earn a living.
Chapter 5
Mrs. Abernathy seemed to accept that my business was growing; thus, the need for more items in the safety deposit box. The mail continued to trickle in, bringing a check or two every few days. The amounts were small, but I had learned to squeeze each penny until Lincoln screamed.
I pondered the fact that someone had tried to kill me at Blanchard Springs Caverns. I wanted to know whether it was because I asked Christina questions or because I was trespassing. It seemed that the snipers couldn’t have gotten in place so quickly unless someone warned them about us.
I intended to visit Ellen Thompson to see if she had any more books from that estate sale, but there were several customers in her shop. I started to walk past when I noticed two of the men were wearing dark suits. I thought for a second of the flying saucer witnesses' claims of the men in black who showed up after a saucer sighting. I decided it was just my imagination and returned home.
I took the device from the gun safe and placed it on the desk in my office. I just stared at it for several minutes, building my nerve. Anxiously, I glanced around the room. I took a moment to double-check the windows and locks. I closed the blinds and pulled the dark drapes closed completely. I locked the outside doors to the house. The house was empty, and I was alone, but still I closed the door to the office. I made a mental note to get a lock for it, as well.
I debated trying the time travel function. I didn’t want to suffer the same fate as Paul, but the temptation was more than I could handle. For days, I had read and reread the entire operations procedure. It seemed so very simple. At last I thought I was ready to test the device. It was 1:15 that afternoon when I bravely set it for 8 hours into the past.
I reached for the button when I heard a loud noise. I pulled my hand back as the sound had surprised me. I realized it was the sound of my heart pounding. I could see sweat beading on my arms and realized I was barely breathing. This was stupid. I thought about it for a few seconds as I asked myself what was the worst that could happen. For a second I thought of Doug trapped in 1881 and then I thought of death. I walked down the hall to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. Could I really be this big of a coward? No! I returned to the office.
I pressed the button. A bubble slowly surrounded me. Things became blurry as I looked through it. It became almost solid, then faded again. According to the clock, it was now 5:15 in the morning. I walked from my office down the hallway. The door was open to my bedroom, and there I was sleeping. I heard a strange sound. It took me a moment to realize it was my own snoring. Now I understood why former girlfriends had complained about it. I placed my digital camera on my dresser and, using the timer, I took a photo of myself sleeping while I stood next to the bed as well. I walked outside my house and watched the sunrise, something I normally detest, as I’m not an early riser. I then hit the return button. The bubble reappeared in the same manner as before. I returned to the exact moment I had left. This device worked perfectly. I loaded the photo into my computer even though it didn’t prove anything, as people fake things like this frequently.
The journal claimed the devices worked in tandem, yet this one was now working alone. I could only theorize that it was working because at this very moment in time, technically, there are three of them. There is the pair of devices at Blanchard Springs Caverns, of which this one is the duplicate or the same one. It’s in existence and working in two places at the same time. I had no way to verify that theory, but since I was able to travel into the past solo, something was overriding the in-tandem requirement, at least for right now.
Why then was Paul trapped in the past? The only answer I could arrive at was that when Paul had traveled back, the machine was working in tandem, yet when I traveled alone it had worked fine. Maybe it was the device that Lisa had used that had been tampered with or that had the problem. I wondered what would have happened had Paul only shut down, rebooted then tried to travel to the future. Could he have returned? Then I remembered, he said in the journal that they couldn’t travel into the future. Maybe somehow that overriding problem was trapping him in the past. Apparently, the machine would allow you to return to the "future" but not travel there alone.
I spent the rest of the morning trying to work on my genealogy business as much as I could. The desire to try the machine even more was tugging at me. I wanted to try something more concrete, a test I could prove.
It was mid-afternoon when I decided to go uptown again. I planned to go to Darlene's Diner for some iced tea and maybe a piece of pie. I noticed Ellen Thompson's flea market was now empty, so I stopped in to see how she was doing.
"Lucas," I tried to get your attention today," she said. "I had some men here that you would have enjoyed meeting."
A cold shiver went down my spine. "The men in the dark suits?" I asked, hoping I was wrong.
"Yes, those are the ones," she said. "They were asking about genealogy work. They are Mormon Missionaries. I told them you’re the only person in town who does any genealogy. I even told them about your lectures."
I was relieved they were not government agents.
"I was in a hurry," I told her. "I had some pressing research I was trying to get in the mail."
"Well," she continued, "they went over to the diner to eat. Maybe you can catch them there."
After thanking her, I went to Darlene's Diner, where the men in suits were just finishing a late lunch, which I suspected Darlene had given them; that is just her way. She helps people of all churches when they are doing church related work. They were wearing nametags that identified them as missionaries. I felt safe in talking with them. They didn’t appear to have any rifles.
They introduced themselves. I cannot recall their names, but neither was from around here. Both appeared to be college students. They were both thin, but I guessed spending their time walking and biking everywhere was building their bodies. We seldom get the missionaries, since Blissville is a very small town and off the beaten path. They were just doing the normal door-to-door stuff.
Both said they were interested in history and genealogy, so we spoke about that at some length. We discussed the work their church had done promoting family history and making data available to non-Mormons for research.
The Missionaries left. I hadn’t noticed when Bill Abernathy took a seat at the next table over. He now moved over and joined me. "Mrs. Abernathy told me your business has been doing well lately," he said. It seemed odd to hear him call his wife Mrs. Abernathy, yet everyone in town called her Mrs. Abernathy, never by her given name.
If Darlene was my surrogate mother, Bill had assumed the role of my surrogate father. We were as different as night and day in looks. He was short, about five and a half feet tall and had a slight potbelly, even though he worked hard in his landscaping business. He had bright red-hair, green eyes and a toothy grin. His passion in life was research. He hated to read novels or newspapers, but if it was a biography or conspiracy theory, he had read and most likely owned a copy of it. He was also a very skilled wood cutter and carver. He could cut down the largest tree with ease with a hand axe, and it would land exactly where he wanted it to land. At the same time he could carve the tree with a chain saw to look like almost any person in the world.
"I’ve just been updating and copying some files that are important to me," I told him. "I just thought it was safer having them in two different places."
He nodded in agreement. He added, "I have found that three places are even better. Court orders can take your files and records from the bank without your knowledge."
I laughed at first. Then I thought more about it and thanked him for that piece of information.
He looked around, making sure we were alone before he spoke. "You know the Mormons are rumored to be more involved with our government than you might think. Take care with your genealogy research. I hear they are always watching those pages on the internet.”
I nodded but had no idea where he was heading with this line of reasoning. I hadn’t thought about that fact. I wasn’t sure I wanted to think about it. At times Bill could be very strange, but he did have actual knowledge, too. He might jump to some strange conclusions with that information, but if he had a date or a fact, it was normally well documented.
"I’ve been meaning to stop by and talk with you," I told him. "I need some information about a money trail and how to track a government operation that might not want to be found.”
He smiled. "Anytime. You know me. I’ll show you what I’ve found over the years and will leave you to decide for yourself what’s true or not."
Finishing my coffee, I headed home. The device was on my mind. I had to try it again. I made my plans, but decided to wait until the next morning. I was getting tired.
Wednesday morning I awoke early. I fixed my oatmeal and juice. It was time to be brave. Now I decided to be even bolder than the first time. I set the machine for 24 full hours back in time. This time I walked to the park a few blocks from my house. Often on nice mornings, I pick up the daily paper and instead of reading at the kitchen table, I walk to the park to read it. It’s one of my few real breaks away from the computer, telephone and people in general. Sitting alone, I pressed the button and returned to the past. I knew it was a full 24 hours earlier. I had forgotten that yesterday it had rained, so I was now in the park in the rain. I ran to the gazebo and waited for rainstorm to end. While I waited, I turned the device off.
After a few minutes, I turned it back on. I pressed the return button, and nothing happened. I was still in the past. I tried setting the travel time to 24 hours into the future, but nothing happened. Now I was trapped in the past. Fortunately for me, it was only one day in the past. I thought that I now knew how Paul had been trapped in the past. At least, I knew one possibility. If the device he used were shut down and rebooted, then he would have been trapped in the past. It could have been just a simple mistake.
After the rain stopped, I walked to the post office and bought a post card. I addressed it to myself. On the back I wrote: "Do not reset while in the past. Can be fatal." I mailed the card to myself.
I now had a day to relive. After all, I had already lived this day. I thought about going home but I – well, the me of yesterday, was there doing research. I had no idea what would happen if I saw myself in the past and wasn’t in the mood to find out. I did have tomorrow's paper that just a few minutes ago had been today's paper. That was when I decided to risk even more. I walked down to Darlene's Diner.
It was almost 9:30. I knew I hadn’t been there on Tuesday, so I was safe. Tuesday was the key. I looked at the newspaper I had brought from the house; the date was Wednesday, May 5, 2004. I asked Darlene, "What's the date?"
Without batting so much as an eyelash she replied, "Tuesday, the 4th."
