More precisely, to 1775.
As I hit the GO button, I feel Iffy through the mist. I try to send her a message.
Everything will be fine. Don’t worry. I’ll make this right.
I can’t tell if she hears me, but there is a peacefulness in our connection that wasn’t there before. Four hops later, I’m standing in the field behind the Three Swans Tavern. According to the Chaser, it’s 8:10 p.m. and 9 seconds.
I move over to the wagon farthest from the building, hunker down, and scan the area. If one of the other stranded Rewinders has discovered when the break in history occurred, then one or more of them would be around, trying to make things right. The road and grounds around the tavern appear exactly the same as on my last visits, so I’m pretty sure I’m safe.
As I wait, I keep looking over my shoulder in anticipation, but I remain alone. A check of the local time again shows it’s 8:13 and 30 seconds, almost time. I turn my attention to a point only ten feet from my position. For several moments, there’s nothing but the field and the silhouette of the forest behind it. Then I see me, the me destined to create a twelve-second gap that will bring Iffy’s world into existence. Or I should say, would have brought, if not for—
“Denny,” I whisper. While I have seen myself before — in fact, this very version of me — I’ve never spoken to myself.
Other Me turns in surprise, his eyes widening even more when he realizes who called his name.
I wave him over and move to the side so he can crouch next to me. From here, no one can see us, which is especially important given that the scout version of me is still in front of the tavern and must never know what’s going on.
Other Me eyes my shoes as he joins me. I’ve changed back into the same costume he’s wearing, but my 1775-era shoes were misplaced somewhere in Iffy’s 2015. I’m wearing the black sneakers I picked up while I was there.
“What are, uh, you doing here?” he asks. Here’s a fact most people never think about: Pronouns are tricky when talking to oneself.
“You can’t go in the building,” I tell him.
“Why not? It’s an observation mission.”
“I know. I’ve done this before. You can’t go in there. Something…happens.”
“What?”
“Everything will be fine if you stay out here. It’s better if you don’t know.”
He looks toward the tavern and then back at me. “Did Johnston send you?”
“No. I…we figured it out ourselves. You can’t talk about this to anyone. Not even Marie. No one must ever know. Trust me.”
“Trust you.”
We look at each other for a second and then smile the exact same smile.
“All right,” he says. “If you’re telling me I shouldn’t, then I won’t. But what about my mission? How am I supposed to verify if Cahill—”
“He’s the one,” I say. “In a few minutes, he’s going to meet with a couple of British agents and receive orders to observe a rebel meeting, and then he’ll report what he learns to the British.” I pull the wooden box that caused all the problems out of my satchel and hold it out. “Here. Their conversation’s recorded on this. You can use it as proof.”
He takes it. “You’re sure?”
“Would I lie to you?”
“Probably.”
“True. But he’s the one, all right. No lie.”
“Okay. I’d feel better if I can at least re-verify his arrival,” he says.
“All right. Sure. We can do that. But give me your box. You don’t want to show up back home with two.”
He gives me the box in his satchel. Together we then watch as Cahill rides up on his horse at 8:20 and disappears around the front of the tavern.
“What now?” Other Me asks.
“Now you go back and forget we ever talked.”
He pulls out his Chaser, but hesitates. “You sure you can’t tell me what’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on now. We fixed it.”
He looks as if he’s unsure, but with a nod, he disappears.
Step one is done. There’s no going back now. While I should feel relieved, I only feel more stressed. There is still so much to do, including one more step here before I leave this night.
From my satchel, I pull out my notes and check them. These are the same notes that Scout Me is recording right now. When I have memorized the two times I need, I put the notes back and input the appropriate jump into my device.
When I hit GO, I move approximately twenty feet forward and ten to the left from my position behind the wagon, and travel back in time only a few minutes to 8:14 and 20 seconds. My stay in the mist is no more than a blip, but even then I know Iffy is no longer there.
From this new position, I can hear the two other Dennys whispering behind the wagon. I check the time to make sure I’m in sync, and then start counting the seconds as I walk toward the front of the tavern.
I’m a little worried about the shoes. Not so much about anyone from the past seeing them, but more about Scout Me seeing them. It’s dark, though, and the shoes are black, so I’m hopeful he won’t notice. Besides, there’s nothing I can do about them.
I reach the tavern door right on cue at 8:14 and 53 seconds. Inside, I take a seat in the corner as far as possible from where Cahill and his friends will be sitting. I have a moment of panic that I won’t be able to pay for my meal, but then find a Spanish dollar at the bottom of my satchel.
For the next half hour, I pretend to eat my stew while ignoring Cahill and his friends. When he finally leaves — at his original time, not after the twelve-second delay — I wait for a few minutes, pay the woman, and leave at 8:51 and 11 seconds.
As far as Scout Me knows, everything is fine.
It’s time to move on. But not to 1702. Not yet.
I set my Chaser for a series of jumps that will end on the day before I left Iffy’s world, at nine p.m. Before I hit GO, I see that the power level has dropped to nearly seven percent. Already down thirty percent from what I had in Iffy’s world, and I still have a lot of jumps to make. Hoping the battery lasts, I press the button.
The first sign I get that my Chaser is trying to reconnect with my companion is on the final hop to my home time. I meant to disconnect before I made the jumps but totally forgot, which means I’m heading for the institute and not for the cemetery in New Cardiff. I’ll have to disconnect right there on the return platform as quickly as possible and jump again. If I’m not fast enough, I’m done for and all my planning will have been for nothing.
But then I realize something’s wrong. The connection with Palmer is fading in and out.
For a microsecond, I see a flash of the inside of Upjohn Hall but then it’s gone, and I materialize in the middle of a busy road.
Carriage alarms ring out and the beams of headlights swing back and forth as drivers swerve around me. The nearest curb is to my left, so I zigzag through the traffic until I reach safety.
Where am I? I wonder as I catch my breath. Obviously not the institute, and not my mother’s grave, either.
I definitely am in a city, and from the lamppost banners celebrating the king, I gather I’m somewhere in the Midlands.
Chicago, maybe?
No, it’s too warm for late March.
At least I’m far from New York, and that’s all that really matters.
I pull out my Chaser and physically disconnect it from Palmer. As I do, I realize what must have happened at the end of the jump. There are two of me here in 2015, me and the version I stopped from entering the tavern. That means until I just disconnected my Chaser, Palmer was being pulled on by two devices. He would’ve had a full connection to the other before I showed up, and wouldn’t have been able to fully control us both.
I check the power supply—5.62 %. It’s going to be close. Shoving the Chaser in my bag, I take a look around.