Time Slips & Tax Thieves, page 3
part #4 of Time Travelling Taxman Series
He waited, trying to ignore the affectionate murmurings and ridiculous sweet-nothings coming from behind the tent.
The welcoming light didn’t come soon enough, and it wasn’t quite enough to purge the sounds and sights from his mind. Still, when it receded, he found himself back in their campsite, in their universe.
“That was…weird,” Nancy said.
He snorted. “Weird? That doesn’t begin to cover it.”
She put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey. You know that isn’t me, right? I mean, I can’t control what’s happening in the multiverse.”
He turned injured eyes to hers. “No,” he said. “But is this the only universe where you and I are actually a couple?”
“What?”
He shook his head. “I’m not there with you, in those other ones.”
“You’re not there at all. Neither am I,” she reminded him.
“You know what I’m saying, Nance.”
“I don’t, babe. Those people: they’re not us. What they’re doing doesn’t matter. We’ve got each other.”
“And what about the Alfreds in those other worlds?”
“Alfred…you’re not really going to get pissy with me because of what’s happening in other dimensions, are you? I thought we agreed: those are Mirror Universe me. Remember?”
“Yeah, but this is twice now, Nance.”
She shook her head, exasperated. “You are, then? You’re going to get mad at me for what someone else in another freaking dimension is doing?”
“I’m not mad, babe. It’s just…well, that Josh and Nancy looked damned happy.”
“So what if they were?”
“What if it’s not just Mirror Universe yous? I mean, they’re all variations on the same universe, right? But at the core, it’s the same thing, just different results.”
She sighed. “I have no idea. I’m not an expert on alternate universes.”
“What I’m saying is, on some level, they are you.”
“What the hell are you getting at, Alfred?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Just…if it is built on the same base model of you, then you being with Josh and you being with Justin…” He shivered at the memory. “It means there’s some kind of…I don’t know…latent attraction there. Across all the universes.”
He didn’t mean to say it in such an accusatory fashion. He’d meant to throw it out philosophically. Still, somehow it came out more like an accusation than an observation, as if she had been concealing something from him. And now he’d found her out.
Nancy, though, crossed her arms and wrinkled her nose at him. “Jesus. Is that what you think?”
He flinched a little under her gaze, then shrugged. “I mean, it’s nothing to be ashamed of, Nance. Attraction isn’t a-”
He cut short his platitude as he felt himself being transported again. Sugar cookies. They had to figure out how to stop this thing. It was clearly glitching, and sooner or later, that glitch might end up killing them.
A rush of warmth flooded his senses, and he blinked to let his eyes adjust to a sunny scene. “It’s the same campsite,” he decided.
“It’s not,” Nancy said. “It might be the same plot, but that’s not my tent.”
He nodded slowly. The green and white dome they’d set up was replaced by a blue-grey, multi-room unit. A voice from inside that tent called, “Babe, can you get my neck pillow? It’s in the car.”
He cringed at the sound. “We’re back in the universe with you and Justin,” he said, again more bitterly than he’d meant.
“No we’re not. That’s not the same tent.”
He frowned. She was right. “Then, if it’s not…” He trailed off as the answer to his own question appeared from behind a Subaru parked at the end of the site.
Alfred found himself staring, slack-jawed, at a tallish, dark-haired man with, if he said so himself, reasonable good looks if – in this universe anyway – terrible taste.
He was staring at himself, or some alternative reality version of himself, anyway. This alternate universe Alfred noticed him at about the same moment, and they stared mutely, mouths agape, at one another.
Meanwhile, Nancy snorted out a laugh. “Justin? You, and Justin?”
She seemed to be taking the revelation a lot better than he was. If by better, anyway, he meant with more amusement. He was too astonished, too mortified, to find the situation funny. That any version of him in any universe in any circumstance would partner with Justin Lyon made his skin crawl.
It was about now that Justin poked his head out of the tent. “What were you saying, Freddie? I didn’t-” The other man cut off, catching site of Alfred and Nancy on the one side, and the other Alfred on the opposite.
Scrambling out of the tent and toward his own Alfred, he demanded, “What in the hell?”
“This is hard to explain,” Nancy said, “but we’re from another reality. Like, an alternate universe.”
“You’re Nancy, right?” the other Alfred asked. “From work? Head of the nerd bunker?” The nerd bunker was the unofficial name for the IT wing of the department. It was unofficial, in that it was what the analysts called the geeks.
Justin, meanwhile, was wrapping a protective arm around him. “Look, this is insane. Whoever the hell you are, you need to leave. You’re not here for Freddo, are you?”
“No. Jesus, no,” Alfred answered. “You can keep…Freddo.” He shivered at the use of the name. He despised nicknames, not least of all the ones Justin would assign him. “We didn’t mean to come here. We’ll be on our way in a minute.”
Justin’s posture relaxed, though he still watched them with unreserved curiosity. “So…alternate dimensions?”
“Like the Mirror Universe? In Star Trek?”
Oh God, Alfred thought, staring with disapprobation at his clone. As if hooking up with Justin wasn’t bad enough. But you’re a Trekkie in this universe too, Alfred? How the mighty have fallen indeed.
“Exactly,” Nancy said. “But not evil.”
Justin harrumphed. “We’ll be the judges of that, I guess.”
“We didn’t mean to come here,” she assured him. “Our device just malfunctioned. We’ll be on our way in about two seconds.”
“Wait,” Justin said. “I have a million questions. How did you two invent something like this?”
“Is that what you’re doing in the nerd bunker?” Alfred’s disappointing twin wondered. “Running some kind of crazy experiments?”
“And how did you and Freddo end up a team?”
“Alfred,” he put in. “It’s Alfred. Not Freddo.”
Justin’s eyebrows rose. “You’re not…a couple?”
They glanced at each other and shrugged. “In our universe…yes.”
“Eww,” both men declared in unison.
“Oh Freddo.” Justin shook his head. “You’re clearly not the smart twin, are you?”
“Hey,” Nance and he said, also in unison.
“Just telling it like it is, sister.”
Chapter Five
“Please get us out of here,” Alfred pleaded. Seeing himself, or this mirror version of himself, in the arms of Justin – any Justin – was making him ill.
“I’m trying, babe. This stupid thing isn’t working.”
“No, no, no. It can not leave us here. Not in a world where I like Star Trek and Justin.”
She glanced up, smirking. “What were you saying about latent attraction, now? Justin, huh?”
“Nance, this really isn’t the time.”
She shrugged, turning back to the device. “Never figured him as your type, that’s all. And I guess you’ve been holding out on me all this time: you’re really a closet Trekkie.”
“Alright, alright. You’ve made your point. I’m an imbecile. Now please get us the hummus out of here.”
Freddo and Justin were watching them, though. “A little trouble with your gadget, Freddo?”
“Don’t call me that,” he snapped. “My name is Alfred.”
Justin pulled a face. “You’re the bitchy twin, I guess.”
“We’re not twins, either. I’m the real thing. He’s some…weird knockoff.”
Nancy glanced up from frowning at the field generator. “It’s not like there’s an original, babe.”
“Babe?” Justin repeated. “Ew.”
Freddo shook his head, his features scrunched up in disgust. “That is so nasty.”
“You know,” she decided, “I think these two are inferior knock-offs.”
“So how did you come up with this dimension-hopping gadget, anyway?”
“Nance? How’s it going?” Alfred prodded. He really didn’t want to explain the sequence of events that led to this moment, much less to some other universe’s Justin. The last thing they needed was an alternate-reality’s Lyon rooting around until he discovered his own space time manipulator. Who knew what chaos unleashing Justin Lyon on an unsuspecting multiverse might cause?
“It’s not working, Alfred. I can’t get it to respond.”
“Let me try,” he said. He didn’t know how to operate it, exactly – she’d been the one to figure it out in the first place. But he was getting desperate. The other men were inching forward, getting closer and closer.
“I put the coordinates in,” she said, handing over the generator. “But it’s not taking them.”
He nodded. First things first, he pressed the same button she’d been pressing. When nothing happened, he pressed a few others.
“So what happens if you can’t get it to work?” Justin wondered. He was about three feet away now, with Freddo. And both men were watching the device with curious eyes. “Are you stuck here? Like, in our universe?”
That was impetus enough for Alfred to act rashly. “There must be water in it,” he decided, flipping the generator over and delivering a few quick smacks to the back of it. Sure enough, water droplets flew out.
But, at the same time, a searing blast of light consumed him. “Fudge muffins,” he screamed aloud, but no sound reached his ears. His mind was full of the throb of nothing in particular. His eyes burned, his skin seemed consumed with fire.
He’d jumped dimensions and hopped times before. The sensations were mild, strange – but never painful.
This time, though, they were agonizing. He reached out a hand for Nancy. Whatever was happening, he didn’t want to lose her. If these were their last few moments, if their atoms were about to be sprinkled across time and space, he wanted to go with her at least.
He found her hand and was vaguely aware of her fingers squeezing his. But pain, like a white-hot poker searing through his brain, flooded his senses, growing hotter and more consuming by the moment.
Then, his world went black, and he lost consciousness.
Alfred woke feeling like he’d just come out of a heavy-duty wash cycle. He was battered, sore, and discombobulated. His head reeled, his body ached, and his senses waxed and waned. “Nance?” he asked, his voice sounding faint and faraway to his own ears. “Nance, love, are you there?”
When he didn’t hear a response, he forced his eyes open. Then, he blinked at the new assault of light on his corneas. As his vision cleared, he saw a bright blue sky overhead, clear but for a few fluffy clouds. Slowly, for his head swam with every motion, he glanced around. They were in a forest – perhaps the same forest as their campsite – but there were no roads here, no campsites or vehicles: just trees and sky and sunshine.
Lots and lots of sunshine. He raised a hand to shield his eyes, and, with the other arm, pushed himself to a sitting position. Then, he glanced around again, this time in search of Nancy.
She was a few feet away, unmoving. She wasn’t the only one – Freddo and Justin must have hitched a ride with them, for they were lying unconscious on the ground beside her. But she was the one who drew his attention.
“Nance! Oh my God, Nance, are you alright?” He scrambled over to her, fighting the lightheadedness that threatened to consume him with every motion. Scooping her into his arms, he asked, “Babe? Hell, Nance, please, answer me.”
She was lying limp in his arms, her head lolling backward against him, her arms dangling on the ground. Panic surged in his chest, and it took every ounce of strength to keep his head. Check for life signs. Make sure she’s alive.
He did, and she was. She had a pulse, she was breathing. He, now, breathed too. She’s alive. Still, she was unconscious, and he had no idea what had happened to them. Travel had never been that rough. The machine was obviously malfunctioning. What could it have done? He had no idea, and, rocking her back and forth in his arms, he tried not to think about it. “Nance? Can you hear me? Babe?”
About five minutes later, she stirred. They were the longest five minutes of Alfred’s life, and he almost wept in relief as she ebbed back into consciousness.
She winced as she opened her eyes, shielding her face from the glare of the sun. Then, she asked, “Babe?”
“I’m here, Nance. I’m here.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. That stupid generator, it sent us…somewhere.”
She groaned, pushing up, and he lent her a hand. “Oh hell.”
“What?”
“Those two,” she said, pointing at Freddo and Justin.
He’d forgotten about them, so consumed as he was with her wellbeing. “Oh. That’s right.”
“It brought them with us.”
“I guess it did.”
“Hell,” she repeated. “Are they…alive?”
“I think so,” he said. “I mean, we both are. I’m guessing they are too.”
“We should check.”
“I’ll do it. You rest.”
She murmured her acquiescence, resting her head in her hands.
He, meanwhile, crawled over to the unmoving men. He didn’t dare trust his legs enough to attempt standing yet. “Hey,” he said, shaking Justin a bit more brusquely than was probably necessary. “You alive?”
The other man moaned, and he called over his shoulder, “Looks like he made it.”
Now, he moved onto his tasteless counterpart. “What about you?” He was, he had to acknowledge if only to himself, a bit gentler this time. He might have a low opinion of Freddo, but he also was staring into the same features he’d seen a million times, glancing back at him from every reflection. The man might be a moron, but on some level, that moron was him.
Freddo stirred too, sitting up before Justin rose. “What in the hummus?” he demanded.
Alfred blinked at the expression: the same one he’d use, in lieu of more vulgar alternatives. “What?”
“What just happened?” Freddo threw a wild gaze around the forest and yelped when he saw Justin. “Darling? Oh my God. Justin?”
The concern in his tone made Alfred recoil. This was Justin. Justin. How anyone could be that concerned – much less, someone who looked and sounded and talked like himself – about Justin boggled his mind. He watched with grave disapproval as Freddo fawned over the downed man.
“He’s alive,” Alfred sighed. “For heaven’s sakes, keep your voice down. We have no idea where we are.”
Freddo, though, ignored him, making all manner of ruckus until Justin stirred again.
Nancy, meanwhile, glanced up. “Alfred, what do you think happened? I mean, where did it send us? It’s not our time. My cell isn’t working. It’s finding no signal, nothing. So, wherever we are, we’re in a world without cell technology.”
He retrieved his own phone and waited with bated breath as it searched for a signal. It found nothing, and eventually he conceded, “Fudge muffins. Same here.”
“And why did it hurt so badly? It never hurts like that.”
He crawled back to her side and wrapped an arm around her. “I don’t know, babe. I have no idea.”
“Can I see it? The generator?”
He nodded, extending the gadget to her. “Be careful. I don’t know if I can stand another round of that just yet.”
“Me either,” she agreed. She scrutinized it for a moment. “The dial is dead. Like, it doesn’t light up no matter what I press.”
He frowned. “That’s not good. Right?”
“It can’t be.” She flipped it over, prying the two halves apart. The device consisted of a base unit and an authenticating module, called the key. “Look at this.” She indicated dark streaks running down the surfaces. “Charring. Dammit, Alfred: I think this thing might have short-circuited.”
“Short-circuited? You mean, like fried itself?”
She nodded. “Water must have got inside it.” She pressed two fingers and a thumb against the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. “Which means…if we can’t fix it? We’re stuck here. Wherever the hell ‘here’ is.”
“Wait,” Freddo’s voice, high and alarmed, reached them. “What did you just say?”
It was a tone that Alfred used himself now and again, when the occasion called – like that time they’d been chased by a T-Rex in the Futureprise compound in the Mojave. But now? Now it was certainly not called for, and he cringed at the sound. He shuddered at all its grating qualities, and he flinched at the thought of who – or what – might be in earshot to hear it. “Shh,” he hushed. “We have no idea where we are. There could be predators nearby.”
This, as it happened, was the wrong thing to say, because Freddo clutched Justin to him, repeating, “Predators? Oh my God, where did you take us? Who are you people?”
Chapter Six
It took about five minutes of Nancy’s and Alfred’s concerted efforts. But, at last, they were able to convince Freddo to stop screaming and put away the pocket knife he’d drawn, about a minute into their attempts.
“So you’re saying,” he said, folding the blade, “that you didn’t mean to transport us here?”
“Of course we didn’t mean to,” Alfred hissed. He’d only said that about a hundred times in the last five minutes. Alternative me is something of a thicky, I guess.
“Believe me,” Nancy added, “none of this was supposed to happen. Our generator is malfunctioning.”
“Because you let it get rained on.” Freddo glared at them, moving his angry expression from one to the other. “What kind of imbeciles take a device like that camping? And who lets it sit in puddles? You’re lucky we didn’t get killed. Our atoms might have been spread across time and space.”
