“I guess you could say we’ve met, but on the other hand, we haven’t. My name is Benjamin Wallace.”
Wallace. Ethan had heard that name before, on his answering machine and from Blake’s own lips. This was the man who had been after him in 1986 — but where was he now? A better question might be, were the man’s intentions the same — here, in this forsaken place? “What happened here?” he asked.
The man’s face held a hardness to it that spoke of too much pain in life. “This is what happens when God calls in sick.”
“What?”
“The nuclear facility you see there is the location of what became known as the ‘Chernobyl disaster’. On April 26, 1986, reactor four exploded, resulting in the worst nuclear power plant accident in history. Naturally, conspiracy theorists insist it was no accident.” Wallace gestured to the north. “The city in that direction is Pripyat. Deserted now. The fallout was quite severe.”
He peered at Ethan. “They let people come here and tour on day passes now. Can you imagine?” Wallace shook his head and began walking toward the abandoned city. “Come with me,” he said.
Ethan gaped at Wallace’s back as the man strode away, then he looked down at the watch. Without knowing why, he snatched it back up and stuffed it in his pocket as he hustled to catch up. “And when am I? What’s the day? What year?” Ethan’s questions came fast now.
“It is April 26, 2009. You have been gone a long time, Mr. Tannor.”
“I don’t understand. How? Why?”
“You were sent here.”
“Blake,” Ethan muttered.
Wallace nodded.
“But how could you know that?” Ethan looked away from Wallace, returning his attention to the landscape.
“We’ve had this conversation before, a few years from now. I want you to know, we are friends. Or should I say, we become friends.”
Ethan threw him a dark look over one shoulder. “You’re not my friend. Look what you’ve caused. Take a look around, man.”
Wallace nodded again. “I see it.” His voice was low, sounding almost sad. “I have also seen a future far different. Far worse. But we have fixed it.”
“And when will you stop trying to fix things?”
“The tide has turned, Mr. Tannor. We’ve won the war. Without the ability to jump, the Soviets were never able to gain superiority over us. I’m told the future turning point was at the Battle of New Orleans. Our troops capitalized on a moment of weakness in the Soviet Force. They’d taken control of the city and were using the Mississippi River to send troops upstream, when a Category 5 hurricane made its way through the Gulf of Mexico. The town was flooded, killing the entire encampment of soldiers.” Wallace smiled briefly. “The hurricane was named ‘Freedom’ — or, ‘Svoboda’ in Russian, just in case the Soviets didn’t catch our meaning.”
This was all too much to take in. “But why the hell did you send Blake and Tobias back to begin with?”
“I’m what they call a Cognitive Marshall, or, a Thinker —”
Ethan scoffed. “I don’t give a shit what they call you — whoever the fuck they are. Why did you choose to send them … me … aw, hell — why’d you choose us?”
Wallace took a moment to think before answering. “What I possess in knowledge of future situations, I lack in tactical military skills. We needed someone with a particular set of talents; there’s hardly a military left in the future. The few fighters we do have are too valuable to waste on such a suicide mission.”
Ethan laughed, but it was filled with bitterness. “Yet you had no qualms about sacrificing people like me.”
Wallace shrugged. “It is our reality, Mr. Tannor. We poured through profiles until we finally settled on yours. Your talents and record qualified you for the project. That is why I chose you.”
“Tobias had no skill.”
“He was the test subject, and he volunteered, mind you.”
“Because you baited him,” Ethan said.
“And you betrayed him — or, well, Blake betrayed him. I guess if you really want to get technical, you betrayed yourself. But that’s not the issue. If not you, it would have been someone else just like you. You’ve performed a great service for your country. You should be happy with that knowledge.”
“You’re fucking with people’s lives!” Ethan’s fingers curled into fists, the instinct to physically lash out at Wallace was overwhelming. “You can’t go around screwing with history like this — think about the cost of such actions!”
“Someday the cost may be worth paying, my friend.”
Ethan said nothing to that right away. He just gazed at the bleak vista as they walked, his expression sullen. Finally, he spoke. “What do you get out of this?”
Wallace stopped, and so did Ethan. For a moment, he studied Ethan’s face like he was seeing him for the first time. Then he continued walking. “Honestly, Mr. Tannor, some people are just patriots. I will do everything in my power to make sure we succeed, even if that personal sacrifice costs me my life, time and time again.”
He went silent for a beat before saying, “With all the files I’ve read about myself, it’s a wonder I continue to make the choice.”
“How so?”
“It’s a gamble you take, on who steps through the other side. The jumps … they change you. I’ve lived and died for this cause more times than you can imagine.”
“Why?”
“I can’t afford to disturb the balance of time by too much. So I choose to take my life whenever I become of no further use in a time rift — successful or not. This visit alone was for your sake, to let you know what had happened, what had been avoided because of your … because of what Blake did for all of us. The only difference between this jump and all my others is that after our conversation, I don’t have to pass on what I have told you to myself in the future.”
“And how did you do that — ‘pass along’ messages? With time capsules?”
“In a sense, yes. But I don’t keep mine buried in the sand, or in safety deposit boxes like your former self was instructed. My time is so far beyond this time that no place is completely safe. I’ve chosen to leave my messages in the public eye as mysterious deaths that always involve two things: this book,” he pulled something from his pocket, “and a coded message which only one other person can decipher. That would be me, eighty years from now.”
The object in Wallace’s hand was The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyam, the same book he’d taken from Tobias’s safe, along with the mysterious code.
He met Wallace’s eyes again and suddenly — as if the Rubáiyát had triggered Ethan’s memory — there was something about this man that seemed very familiar. For a moment, the answer eluded him, but then the dots connected in his mind. “You … you’re the Somerton Man?” Ethan stared at Wallace. “But how could you be sure no one today could translate the message?”
As they drew closer to the abandoned city, Ethan could see the Ferris wheel more clearly. He imagined exultant children riding it into the sky, their hearts and minds soaring with the excitement of innocence and possibilities. He glanced back to Wallace, who still hadn’t answered.
Wallace said, “Yes. That is me. As to your second question, I have little fear of that. Even if the message were decoded, its meaning would not be understood because it is in a language that has not even been created in your time.”
When Ethan looked like he was about to say something Wallace held up a hand. “Also, you need to understand that every unsolved death — especially the unique ones — eventually find themselves in the spotlight and are carefully archived. I simply look into these cases for my trademark clues and base my next approach on the code left behind.”