Hesitating only a moment, Blake opened his duffel and retrieved the pill bottles Wallace had given him in what felt like a lifetime ago. He threw them into Tobias’s bag and then snatched up a pencil from the table by the bed. He scrawled out a quick message on the accompanying notepad, cursing at how clumsy his efforts were with one arm.
When he finished the note, he stuffed it into the bag beside the pill bottles. This would be Tobias’s only chance at surviving decades with the radiation. Blake couldn’t risk having the man’s body give out earlier than expected.
He’d done the math in his head already; the pills that were left would never be enough to last Tobias until 1986. But maybe he could stave off the sickness for a while after the pills were gone.
Blake thought about the snapshot that had been taken on the beach when Ben’s body was found. He’d thought about it a lot over the past few months. And like his presence in the photo, Blake was setting the course that had always been. Had he been planning to do this for some time already and hadn’t even known it? He couldn’t remember when he’d last taken a pill. Days … weeks?
As he stared at the pill bottles it became obvious once more — he had already done this before too.
He tied Tobias’s bag closed and stood for a quiet moment. His mind whispered, The time is right.
Echoes of the sucking wind and thunder crack that followed swirled around them, leaving behind an empty space where Tobias had stood. Not wanting the platform to be destroyed during the teleportation process, Amhurst had positioned Tobias on pieces of the broken table left behind by Gernot.
Their goodbye had been brief, both men knowing that it wouldn’t last forever. Blake was never good at the soft and mushy emotional stuff and he felt like an impotent fool when all he could do was offer a hand for a farewell shake.
When Tobias enfolded him in a warm embrace Blake’s first instinct was to pull away, but he stopped himself in time and gave Tobias a hearty clap on the back. “Good luck,” he’d whispered. But he knew by now that it wasn’t needed. Would the same hold true for him? He didn’t have the answer yet.
“That’s one. You’re next.” Amhurst pulled the black tinted goggles from his eyes, moving them up to rest on his forehead.
“Not quite.” Blake removed his as well. “We need to make sure all of this is gone.” He pointed to several of the devices in the lab, including the iron machine in the corner.
“Certainly,” Amhurst said, but his eyes reflected the depth of his sorrow. “I am deeply regretful of the journey Tesla and I embarked on.”
“I know you are, but as a final demonstration of your repentance, I need this thing sent far away from here. Don’t tell me where. I can’t and don’t want to know. You can send it into the center of the sun for all I care. It just needs to disappear forever. All of your notes and files too.”
“Indeed.”
“Toss in those files you took from Tesla as well. His mind may have produced things that could benefit mankind, but given the uncertainty we face, they may cause more harm than good.” Blake paused and softened his voice. “I’m sorry. I know you deeply admired the man and hate the thought of … mistreating his work that way, but it would be better if we cleansed it from the world. Mankind isn’t ready for what he offered. Perhaps we never will be.”
The sadness on Amhurst’s face spoke volumes, but he seemed to comprehend the ramifications of not doing as instructed. He nodded, the straps of his goggles bobbing with the movement of his head.
“There is one more thing I need before I go. Can you help me with this?” Blake reached into his pocket, pulled out the items he’d been working with earlier, and gave them to the doctor.
“Are you going to — ” Amhurst started.
Blake shook his head, and the old man’s shoulders relaxed. “I’ve changed the contents inside, but I was wondering if I could borrow your dental services one more time.”
49
Adelaide Then Manhattan
Blake got out of the small tub and dried himself. A bath before departure wasn’t necessary, but he had wanted one; mental preparation for the journey by symbolically washing away the past months.
His reflection in the mirror caught his attention, and he rubbed his jaw. He had become emaciated, and his eyes held a look of torment. He was a gaunt, cadaverous image of his original self.
The exercises he’d done since recovering from the infection that had him bedridden helped resculpt his physique. But what he was and what he felt were two different things. His strength may have been restored to a degree, but the drain of this mission felt like an anchor pulling him down into a bottomless murk.
Who am I?
Ben had been correct when he said, ‘You’re not always the same man who comes out on the other side.’ Blake was no longer the Ethan Tannor he remembered. He had become someone else. Was he a product of his journey? Had he seen too much, did he know too much? Or was it true that he had been caught in a web of his own doing? Combined with the radiation poisoning in his veins, were his recent experiences enough to cause the change?
The Ethan of before was so different from what stared back at him through the mirror. Not just different. Better? Blake didn’t know.
In comparison, the man he was today felt more dangerous than ever. Being a cop always filled a person with a certain level of heady power, but knowing the twists and turns of the future gave a man the feeling of something beyond even that. Godlike almost, even though his mortality waned. Death was still an authority no one could reckon with.
Blake smiled at his reflection. The grin that stared back looked ghoulish. Despite his impending doom that lurked somewhere in the distance, perhaps all hope was not yet lost. Maybe he could even be rid of the radiation. It could still be possible that in the decades following the 80s, the science of medicine would change drastically, giving him some extra time at life.
However, with only the pills Ben had given him to stave off the poisoning, and that he’d given Tobias all of his own, the odds didn’t feel so strong in his favor. Too late, Blake realized he should have kept behind a few, just to see himself through this next mission.
He took a few more moments to look closely at himself in the mirror. It had been a long time since his last shave; healthy stubble had grown out over the last few weeks that beat anything Don Johnson could have sported.
Amhurst had been kind enough to give Blake’s shaggy hair a good clipping just before the shower. Although, in the man’s arthritic hands the scissors were more dangerous than would have been normal. If Blake’s life didn’t already have an imminent countdown timer on it, he would have felt more fearful as the old man’s uncertain fingers probed around his hairline.
Blake hadn’t escaped the experience unscathed though. The tip of his right ear had been nipped, and the backside of his left jawline had a gouge that still stung. He chuckled ruefully and moved away from the mirror. He might just miss the crazy old man when all this was over.