Gliding down the hall in a near trance, Blake went into his room and began to dress, struggling to ease into a plain white T-shirt. The black leather jacket he’d purchased in town went on a little easier, despite the trembling in his good hand.
Without apprehension, Tobias had recently stepped back through the corridor of time, and now the moment for Blake to take the second leg of his round trip was almost here. He clenched his shaking fingers into a fist. He’d done this before. He could do it again.
Descending the basement steps, he walked into Amhurst’s lab for the final time, giving a silent farewell to 1949.
Amhurst stood at a nearby table, hunched over as usual, the aged curve of his spine forcing its will upon the old man. He looked in Blake’s direction. “So you are convinced going to that point in time might change things for the better?”
Blake shook his head slowly. “I’m not sure, but the only thing I have left is hope. And I need a safety precaution, just in case.”
The doctor straightened. “Then it is ready. Just help me stack up a new platform for you to stand on.”
They began moving the material into place. “And what will you do after I’m gone?” Blake asked as they dragged a piece of metal across the floor.
Amhurst dropped his end of the slab with a clang that vibrated through Blake’s arm. Blake released his own grip and waited for Amhurst’s answer. There was a long pause, and then the doctor finally said, “I honestly don’t know. After my first life took a turn, this became my life. I have no family. I’m old. I’m used up, and I have nothing left to live for.”
Blake realized his own life had drawn a similar parallel. Still, he had a few things left to fight for: Art, Fredericks, and maybe the whole human race, if that was even possible at this point.
“We’re almost ready.” Amhurst said. He affixed the watch to Blake’s forearm. Blake was painfully reminded of the sting of its hooks, the pulsing throb that would linger for days before the nerves finally began to disregard the constant irritation.
The doctor pushed at the knobs on the corners of the watch and set it for the delivery date. He singled out one of the knobs for Blake. “This is the quantum leap accelerator. All you need to do is click the button and you’ll be on your way. I was able to double the capacity in the core, so two time jumps should be possible.” He added softly, “Safe travels, my friend.”
Déjà vu tugged at Blake’s mind as he picked up his duffel bag, hoisted it to his shoulder, and got into position. Eons ago, he’d been center stage on the platform of departure, and now he was ready for a return jump into the void — or, as Amhurst had just put it, a quantum leap. For some unexplainable reason, the phrase sounded eerie, like it belonged in a Twilight Zone episode title.
Amhurst slid the goggles over his eyes as he moved a safe distance away from potential flying debris. Blake watched him shuffle into place and wondered again where Amhurst’s life would take him now. He felt a pang of sympathy for the lonely man and impulsively lifted his hand in farewell.
The doctor nodded back somberly. He stood watching Blake with an indefinable expression, and then his hand, too, began to rise.
It is time.
Blake figured he might as well get it over with. He drew in a deep breath, pushed the switch on the watch, and closed his eyes to the brightness that blanketed him with white light. He braced himself for the scorching pain, but none came. It was the meteorite core, Blake realized with relief. It must be more efficient than the nuclear power of Three Mile. He felt the quick, hard rush of air whoosh around him, had the fleeting thought that this was all happening faster than the first time, and then he was gone.
In the silence of Blake’s departure, Amhurst removed his goggles, and stared forlornly at the detritus left behind in the empty space where Blake had been. He stood there for a long time, lost in his thoughts. Then he looked around the room, absorbing the scene, and sat down on the floor, not taking the time to think about how hard it would be to get back up.
He gazed out through the thick windows and spied a waxing moon. “Seven glittering veils,” he said aloud in the quiet room, and a tear, followed by countless more, cut jagged lines across his old skin. “Celice,” he whimpered.
Wracking sobs consumed his body. He wept long and loud, the sound of it bouncing off the concrete walls and in his ears. But he didn’t care.
There was no one else to hear him now.
PART III
Waste not your Hour, nor in the vain pursuit
Of This and That endeavour and dispute;
Better be merry with the fruitful Grape
Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.
50
Déjà Who
Tobias Keane’s shaking hand moved the receiver back toward its hook.
A flicker of motion in the doorway caught his eye and his head snapped around. Alarm bit into him, “What are you doing here?” he said, so startled that he dropped the phone. It rattled loudly as it fell into place.
“Is it really necessary to do this?” a rough voice asked.
Tobias looked closer at the surprise guest who stood staring at him with a fierce expression.
“Ethan?” Then Tobias’s eyes drifted downward, noticed the missing forearm. Its stump held a familiar watch with hooks sunk deep into the muscle tissue. For Tobias it was a sight he hadn’t seen in over twenty years. His eyes relaxed. “Blake.” His voice went flat. “What do you want?”
“I’m trying to stop a foolish old man.”
Tobias let out a half laugh of disgust. “Look at me. I don’t have much longer here. My body is in ruin, and my mind will follow soon after. I don’t want to spend my final days shitting in a diaper, bedridden, and being fed through a tube. So I ask you — how is this foolish?”
“Your actions condemn us. You don’t realize what happens.” Blake searched Tobias’s face for the answer to his question, “Or do you?”
“Who are you to tell me that?” Tobias glowered at him.
“Your suicide starts a chain of events. Ben will find Ethan and he’ll send him back.”
Blake’s calm delivery seemed to enrage Tobias. “Don’t speak to me about a chain of events. And you lied … betrayed by my own flesh.” His voice came out like a growl, but ended on a half sob. “You said they never died.”
“No. I said they never died in the plane crash.”
Tobias looked away from Blake and stared down at the floor, his jaw set on a stubborn angle. “A clever trick of words, but clearly an untruth.”
“Don’t play this game, Tobias.” Blake took a step forward.
Tobias jerked the gun up, pressing it to his own temple, and Blake froze. “All I wanted was a better life for Ethan — for us,” Tobias wailed, his chin wrinkling.
Blake raised his hand in a calming gesture. “My life was fine.” He interjected what he hoped was a non-confrontational tone. He’d never been good at this sort of talk, but he felt the deficiency now more than ever. “I had a great mentor and father figure. Why can’t you see that? Don’t do this. I was older than you when it happened; I know better than you how it felt when they died, you don’t. I got over it and let it go.”
The old man’s eyes glistened as tears formed at the corners. “I lost them twice, what would you know? To save them only to see them snatched away again. Twice the loss and double the pain.”