“It’s done,” the doctor said with a voice so faint that it almost wasn’t heard.
Blake slid the items back into his pocket. He’d started working on them several days before. It had been a difficult task with only the use of one hand, but he wasn’t about to ask Tobias for help.
Tobias set aside the newspaper and stood as well. He seemed cheerful with the news Amhurst brought, even though for him home wouldn’t be the place he’d left from; it would be 1960. He still had to save their parents from the Syracuse plane crash.
Tobias’s happy disposition struck a chord of resentment in Blake. He envied the man’s cluelessness and wished he didn’t know they were both dying.
“Great,” Tobias said, pulling his pants up and tucking in his shirt. “When do we get started?”
Amhurst slogged over to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup before answering. “I’ll prep the room and move the machine; we won’t be needing it.” Then he headed slowly back down the stairs.
“Go get your things together,” Blake said to Tobias. “I want this to be quick.”
As Tobias started to leave the room, Blake was hit with a sudden, horrifying thought: would Tobias have the final laugh in the future and subjugate the teenage version of himself to similar treatment Blake had meted out these past few weeks? He had a vision of Tobias ordering him around to clean that enormous house and torturing him on a daily basis.
For some reason, this struck him as funny and Blake chuckled softly at the alternate future that could play out, then he caught himself and sobered. What if — geez, what if that is exactly what happens? Those small changes in his upbringing could alter the man he was to become, and he’d been too stupid to even think about such a consequence.
“What’s funny?” Tobias asked, turning to face him.
“Nothing. I’m just looking forward to getting home.”
“I know we decided we shouldn’t discuss too much of our lives with each other, but when exactly is home for you?”
It was odd that Tobias was broaching this conversation now, after all that had happened. Something stirred in Blake’s chest — regret, possibly? — as he realized how much time he’d wasted acting acting like an ass when he should have been making an effort to get closer to his other self.
He forced a smile. “Well, I miss everything from the 80s,” he said.
That much was true. He missed his normal clothing, watching movies at the local theaters, good times with Art … hell, he just plain missed being Ethan. The Blake façade had worn out its welcome and he wanted things back the way they’d been. Yet even when he returned to 1986, things would not just slide back together. He wouldn’t be able to pick up where he left off unless he arrived right after he’d been sent, and since he was dying that was out of the question. No, he’d never be Ethan again. When he got back to 1986, that version of himself would still be a detective living in an upscale apartment. All of his possessions would belong to that Ethan, not him.
“So for me,” he continued, “it’ll be 1986. I left on April twenty-fifth of that year. To make sure I don’t create any problems for myself, I’ll have Amhurst send me back to the day after that — April twenty-sixth. I’ll have to catch up to Wallace and make sure we stop the Russians.”
This was mostly a complete lie, but Blake couldn’t risk letting Tobias know his true plans.
His twin said nothing, just watched him with solemn eyes. Blake could only wonder how the man felt. Tobias wouldn’t be able to pick up where his life left off either, but then again, he’d decided to travel back because he hadn’t liked where his life was going to begin with.
Blake felt another twinge of something for Tobias. It took a moment for him to identify that it was gratitude — genuine gratitude this time, not the prickly, resentful kind he’d battled with these past few months. He did in fact owe this man everything. If it wasn’t for Tobias saving their parents from the plane crash, Blake’s life would have taken an irrevocable turn. Tobias was walking proof of that.
He cleared his throat; it had grown dry all of a sudden. “I know you must be scared. I can’t tell you what to say or do. To be honest, I don’t know what you said or did to stop them from going on that trip, but just say what comes natural, I guess.”
“I’m not scared. This is what I came here to do.” Tobias looked timid as he said it, but his voice didn’t waver.
Blake grinned and snapped his fingers. “Oh, and don’t forget to make that fortune. I kinda liked living in style, driving my ‘67 Mustang.”
Tobias beamed, and his face relaxed. Perhaps he was envisioning a happily ever after for all of them. “A ‘67 Mustang, huh?”
“Yeah, metallic black with a copper stripe running up the middle. It was Mom and Dad’s, I got it after — ” Blake stopped himself. After the accident, had almost rolled off his tongue. He shifted gears from truth to falsehood. “After I graduated from basic training.”
Tobias looked dazzled by this information. It could have been from the vision of the beautiful car, but Blake thought he knew the truth. It was the fantasy of their mother and father alive and well, enjoying a proud moment with their son. Tobias would never know until years from now that their parents hadn’t been alive at that point.
Blake remembered the picture of the car crash in Tobias’s files and wondered if he’d felt betrayed by Blake when the accident happened. Or if he’d chalked it up to the past reclaiming what had been stolen.
“And I think it was you who picked out the ‘Stang from the lot. You said so yourself.”
Tobias’s chest seemed to swell with pride, but he said soberly, “Blake, I think you’ve told me enough. You said yourself we shouldn’t know too much about our future.” He drew in a deep breath. “The time is right, I’m ready to go.”
A memory floated in — from where, Blake couldn’t say. Perhaps Dr. Cunningham had an entire thesis on the subject matter somewhere in 1986. Had Tobias just said, The time is right?
An eerie feeling of déjà vu crept into his consciousness — he’d heard that before. But when? And where? He thought a moment and then remembered. Yes, that was it … “When the time is right.” Those had been the very words Tobias used so long ago when they’d been fixing up the damaged ‘67 Mustang and Tobias had promised to tell him a story about the car.
A strange sensation twisted in Blake’s stomach as his brain sifted future memories and this past event into clearer perspective. Could the story have been: that one day in 1948, Tobias and Blake had met as fellow time-travelers and it had been Blake himself who influenced Tobias about which car to pick out for their parents?
It made sense on some level, but right now Blake didn’t possess the brain power to hold on to that strange loop in his mind without it giving him a monster of a headache.
He smiled in acknowledgement of what Tobias had said. “Alright, let me go grab your things for you.”
Blake walked out of the kitchen and headed for Tobias’s room. He took a detour along the way to stop by his sleeping quarters and grab his bag. Then he went into Tobias’s room. He pulled his twin’s similar-looking duffel up onto the bed and laid his own bag down beside it.
The conversation Blake had with Ben Wallace on the beach before the man eighty-sixed himself came back to him then in a rush and he realized how much weight the dead man’s words carried.
He thought of that strange word Ben had mentioned — obdurate. Is this what it meant? That if someone traveled from the present to the past, try as they might, changing history wasn’t quite changing history, but more like following a narrative that has already played itself out time and again? He hoped it didn’t work the other way around too. Given what he now knew about 1986, would it be possible that the timeline there wasn’t exactly like the screenplay of the past, with every decision seemingly set in stone?