CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The Accident
YEAR: 2099
“So, what do you think?” Eric said as he and Heaven came out of the cafeteria. “You’ve been to two classes and lunch in the school of the future, but you’ve been quiet all morning.”
Eric led the way through the halls towards his next class as he spoke. Heaven shrugged. “I don’t know, you know? I’m just taking it all in. Everything’s so... so...”
“Different?”
“Yeah, but at the same time, so much the same,” she concluded.
“Probably the story of humanity. Even back to cavemen, we still draw on the walls, eat, and we’re fascinated by fire.”
Heaven laughed. “Listen to you, trying to sound all thoughtful and cultured.” She smiled and he caught her grin, a smile just for him. “I think the biggest thing I didn’t expect is everything looks so new. A hundred years into the future and I would have expected the school to be a little older by now.”
“Ah, yes,” Eric said with a nod. “The NAC puts a very big emphasis on education. This school has been renovated, all the desks are computers, and the teachers are much better, professionally speaking, than they were in your day, I imagine. They are paid very well.”
Eric caught sight of the door to his next classroom and, out of the corner of his vision, saw Blayze walking up to them. “Is this your girlfriend?” he asked. “Your blast from the past?”
He glanced at Heaven. “I guess you could call her that. How’d you know?”
“Chevelle couldn’t stop talking about you two this morning,” he said. He gave Eric a jab to the shoulder. “You missed practice last night, what’s up?”
“Oh, right,” he said, with another glance at Heaven. “I’m sorry, I forgot all about it. It’s just been crazy lately with the tornado, my dad, the whole ‘city from the past’ thing.”
“Well, we’ve got a big game coming up next week. We go up against the White Bear Bears. You better be on top of your game,” Blayze said, poking Eric in the chest with his finger.
Eric smiled. Quarterback and captain of the team, Blayze was just playing around. His way of inspiring his teammates. “You bet I will,” he said. “I won’t miss another practice.”
“Anyways, catch ya later, Eric. Nice to meet you,” he said with a nod to Heaven before walking off.
“Come on, Heaven.” Eric pointed to the classroom. “This is my next class; you’ll love it. History.”
Class started pretty boring with a recap of yesterday’s lesson. Given the reappearance of Mapiya, the teacher had decided to revisit that portion of their history. He was sure Heaven would find it fascinating, though, or maybe a bit strange. He let her use his desk to view the material in the flat top computer. To see history in detail of the future. He wondered what it would be like.
Before too long a man in gray, pin-striped suit stepped into the classroom and pulled the teacher aside. They talked in low tones at the doorway for a moment, then the teacher turned to the class and called for Eric, waving him to the front of the room.
“Just stay here,” he told Heaven. “I’ll be back.”
Eric walked to the front of the room and stepped out of the classroom with the man. The teacher pulled the door shut and went back to teaching the class.
“Eric, I’m your dad’s lawyer,” the man said. “Gilbert Smith. You can call me Gil.”
***
“This party is going to be fantastic,” Jodie said. The last lunch period was over. Jodie, Chevelle, and a few others were setting up the party. A makeshift stage was being set up at the far end; the DJ was getting his equipment together up there.
Chevelle picked up another balloon and fit it on the helium machine to blow it up as Jodie was stringing together some stars and moon figures. “What do you think?” Chevelle asked her. “Maybe we should change the theme. Something that says ‘Welcome Back, South Mapiya.’“
“We don’t have any time to change the theme,” Jodie scoffed at her. Chevelle tied off the balloon. Jodie had one thing going for her, and one thing only. She was a cheerleader. Not just a cheerleader, either, the head cheerleader. That’s why she got almost as many guys as Chevelle did, but not enough brains to do anything clever with them. “It’s already got a theme,” Jodie said, “and it’s a pretty good one. Turn of the Century. We’re going to party like it’s 2099.”
“How about we party like it’s 1999?” Chevelle said. “It keeps with the theme.”
“I doubt it, Chevelle. Kids from 2012 were like one year old in 1999.” Chevelle did the math in her head. The teenagers their age would have been four or five. Still too young to remember, she figured, but it showed Jodie’s math skills, at least. She took out another balloon.
Jodie set aside the line she was working on and started another one. Her decorations would be strung up everywhere: hanging from the sign outside, from the ceiling in the cafeteria, anywhere and everywhere, really. With holographic technology, they were still stringing up decorations.
“All right, here’s a better idea,” Chevelle said. “How about the music? We could mix it up with some songs from the early 21st Century.”
“Sure, Chevelle,” Jodie said, rolling her eyes. But it was a good idea. Chevelle set down her balloons and walked over to the stage where the DJ was setting up his music stand. The only necessary piece of equipment there was his speakers and the computer, which he could even control from his holophone. The rest was just for show.
“How hard would it be,” she asked, “to get music from 2012 and before?”
“Hard?” he said, shaking his head. “Not hard.”
“Do you have time to mix it in with the music for the dance?”
“For you, Chevelle? Anything,” he said, leaning over the table to give her a kiss on the cheek. They dated for a while a couple years ago. Just a silly thing that didn’t go anywhere, but she kept an open relationship with most of her past boyfriends.
“You’re amazing. Thanks.”
She walked back to Chevelle and grabbed a ladder leaning up against the wall. “How about I start hanging those up?” she said, setting the ladder up.
“You still going to the dance with Blayze?” Jodie asked.
“Yeah,” she said. And what’s it to ya? “Could you hand me one of those?” She looked up at the ceiling, figuring out how she was going to tie it off, as she held a hand out to Jodie, waiting for one of the decorations she strung up.
As she was still looking up, Chevelle felt the ladder shake, unstable. In the next moment it occurred to her that she was falling. Fear shot up her back immediately and she reached out to grab on to something, but there was nothing to stabilize her. She felt her leg hit first, and with a wrenching pain she thought she heard it snap. Then the rest of her body connected with the ground. Her head swung back hard. Lights and stars floated across her vision before everything faded to black.
***
The lawyer, Gil, brought Eric to a small nearby office. He pulled out a chair for Eric, then walked around the desk and sat on the other side. “Your teacher was kind enough to let me use this office,” Gil said. “I realize this is a bit unconventional, coming to you at school like this, but I’ve been quite busy, with the tornado and the sudden appearance of South Mapiya. You understand.”
Gil looked across the desk with sunken, sleepless eyes at Eric. He wasn’t just busy, he was tired. “It’s fine, Gil. Thanks.”
There was an hourglass on the teacher’s desk by Gil’s right hand. Eric focused on it as Gil talked. “As I said, I am— was your father’s lawyer. He had a will made up, and some money in a trust for his funeral. He thought that was important, given his condition.”
The hourglass was quite large, a nice centerpiece. The sand in the hourglass fell through the neck, swirling together as it drained from the top. Small pumps on the four corners sucked the sand from the bottom and poured it back into the top of the hourglass, continuing the cycle perpetually. Eric paid minimal attention to the things Gil was saying.
“So, first I’m going to need your signature on a few papers,” Gil said, touching the teacher’s desk a few times to transfer digital papers into the desk for Eric to examine. “Read it carefully. I’ll be happy to explain anything you have questions about.”
The hourglass was mesmerizing, time continually pouring into the endless future. As the sand wound together at the top and spiraled towards the neck, faster and faster the lower it went, Eric was reminded of the tornado, spinning up in the air, striking out toward his home, toward his father. He shuddered.
As he was about to turn to Gil and sign some papers, his hand buzzed. He activated the holophone and brought it to his ear. “Hello?”
“Eric, this is Chevelle’s dad. You should come to the hospital right away. Chevelle’s hurt.”
Eric hung up. “I’ve got to go,” he said, standing. “I’m so sorry to waste your time, Gil, but it’s an emergency. A friend is in the hospital.”
“I understand,” Gil said.
He contemplated running back to the classroom to collect Heaven, but only briefly. Chevelle had been a close friend forever. If she was hurt, he had to be there.
***
“One more, please,” Motega said, setting his glass back down on the bar a bit harder than he intended.
“Do you really need to be doing this to yourself right now?” the bartender asked, picking up the glass.
Motega nodded. “Believe me. I’m going to need to be at least slightly drunk for what I’m about to do.”
“Okay,” he said, getting another glass out. “Just so long as you don’t intend to be driving out of here.” Motega indicated he wanted more of what he had been drinking, so the bartender filled the glass up to the brim with a domestic beer, actually one home brewed here in Mapiya.
“How have you been holding up?” Motega asked. “You know, with the whole trip to the future.”
The bartender took out a rag and began wiping down the counter. “Busier here than usual, actually. Not what I would have expected, but I guess I understand it. I got registered, they have a place at the mall, which got me a phone and an instant credit line, but I haven’t taken much time off to see the sights, so to speak.”
“Definitely not what I intended,” he muttered to himself.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing,” Motega said, taking another swig of beer.
The bar was pretty empty in the middle of the day. One other man sat at the bar with him, scruffy looking with long bangs in front of his face, and another watching TV from a booth in the back. “Life’s a pithole, huh?” the man at the bar said. His face looked sunken and droopy, pretty pitiful, and he stared at nowhere in particular, his eyes only half focused. Motega wondered how many beers the man had, and if he should have a few more, as well.
“What’s your name?”
“Shemuel,” he said, raising his own overfilled mug to Motega. “But you can call me Shem. You?”
“Motega,” he answered. “Motega Wilson.”
“Wilson, yeah,” Shem said, nodding. For a brief moment some life entered in him as he tried to recall the name. “Aren’t you that scientist that brought us here?” he asked, ‘here’ being the far future, of course.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“You didn’t do any of us any favors, man,” Shem said sullenly, taking a long drink from his mug.
“Play nice, Shem,” the bartender warned. “It’s not as if he tried to send the town into the future. Science is science.” Motega shook his head, not bothering to correct him. The reporters must have talked to one of the Sheriff’s the day the town came back. His name and experiment were in the papers but none of them got it right, and the few reporters that did actually come to hear it from him he hadn’t bothered to indulge. There was always too much to do, too much data to go over. But that’s all changed now.
Shem glanced over at Motega. “You ever just have those days where the world seems out of control?” he asked. “That the only way out seems to be to go a bit mad with it?”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Motega said, taking another long draw from his mug.
“That’s some sad self-destructive talk there, guys,” the bartender said.
Shem balked. “Aw, it’s just talk, Al. Leave us alone.”
“All right, but I’m cutting you off now. Both of you. Last ones.”
Shem downed the rest of his beer. “Probably for the best, anyways,” he muttered to Motega. “Gonna be a long day tomorrow. Actually want to be sober for this one.” He stood up and looked at his empty mug with a frown. “Well, mostly sober.”
“Cheers, my friend,” Motega said, raising his glass to Shem. “And remember, it’s never as bad as it seems.” He took a drink from the mug, punctuating his words. “Except for when it is,” he added, and they both laughed in their half-drunken stupor.
“Goodbye, man,” Shem said, walking towards the door. “Drink up!”
***
“Hey,” Eric said, racing into the hospital room. Chevelle lay in bed, the head upright at a 45 degree angle and left leg up in a sling. “I got a call from your parents at school,” he said. He rushed up to her and gave her a hug. “They said you were hurt. Are you all right?”
She returned the hug. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I didn’t even know there was anything wrong at first; I didn’t feel it. It is throbbing like nothing else now, though.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, pulling away. “I didn’t hurt anything, did I?”
“No, you lug,” she said with a laugh. “It’s just my leg.”
He stared at her leg in the sling. “How did it happen?”
“I was putting up some decorations for the dance tomorrow when I fell off the ladder,” she said, straining to see. She wiggled her feet and grimaced. “Man, that hurts. Actually, I think Jodie did it.”
“The cheerleader?”
Chevelle nodded. “I think she’s jealous about Blayze.” The name hung in the air, but Eric found the name less irritating since he started going out with Heaven. “They’re putting a cast on it today. I’ll be out by tonight.” She laughed to herself. “Well, I won’t be dancing tomorrow.”
“I don’t know, maybe the slow songs,” he said with a grin. “All they do is hug and move their hips anyways.”
She laughed with him, though the merriment wasn’t there. “I suppose you’re right,” she said. “And for the fast songs they just bob their heads.”
“Do you think Blayze will mind?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. Her heart wasn’t really in it anymore, like there was something else on her mind. Something other than boys? Imagine that. “How are you holding up?” she asked, not having to add that she was referring to his dad.
They were both melancholy about their predicaments. He just shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve been trying not to think about it, I guess. Heaven’s been a good distraction; we had fun last night, before the IIA came to bring the smack down.”
“Yeah, that was interesting,” she agreed, but let the subject fall flat.
“Your parents still okay with her staying over?”
“Yeah,” she said. “At this point they just want to do anything they can to help out. Everybody is going through a lot, and you know you’re like a son to them.”
Their conversation died down again, as it tends to around the hospital bed. He wanted to be there to support her, concerned about her as a friend, but not knowing quite what to say. A couple of days ago he’d be standing here, maybe babbling away, just trying to hide his feelings so she didn’t know he liked her. Now he thought about Heaven, and how he had left her back at the school to fend for herself when he heard that Chevelle was in the hospital.
He held up his hand and made his phone into a remote control. “The TV have anything good on?” he asked, switching it on. The televisions here hung from the ceiling, projecting the holograms down.
“I don’t know. I haven’t been in long enough to try watching.”
Eric opened up the guide on his holoremote, found an action channel and quickly scanned through a short list of suggested movies. He selected one and moved it forward past the credits.
They watched in silence for a while before Chevelle spoke again, always ready to ruin a good show with talking. “Eric, you know, I’ve been thinking. You remember that fort we built together?”
Eric nodded. She had brought up the fort once before, the night of The Event two days ago. He wondered what Chevelle wanted to say, but she didn’t go any further for a while. She hadn’t said much the other day, either. She was silent again until the scene cut to a commercial. The timer in the corner counted down from a minute until the commercial would be over. The TV switched to mute.
Chevelle looked down at her hospital gown. “I need to tell you something,” she said, sounding forlorn now. “You remember what we first did in the fort?”
“We put in decorations like you wanted,” he said, confused at what she was getting at.
“No, that’s... No.” The TV turned back up as the commercial ended. Eric flicked his phone to turn it off. “I know you’re with Heaven now,” she said, looking up at Eric. “And that’s not why I’m saying this. Really. I just, I don’t know. It’s something that Blayze has said about you.”
Eric shifted on his feet. “What did Blayze say about me?”
“Well, no. Not about you, really. About me.” She shrugged and tried to smile it off, but she was clearly nervous about telling him whatever it was she was trying to say.
“Chevy, you know you can tell me anything, right?”
“Right. Anything. Right.” She was silent for a moment more. “The first thing we did at the fort is... I kissed you, Eric. And I kind of wish you hadn’t been so mean to me.”
“Chevelle, I was twelve. What did you expect?” But she was saying more than that, wasn’t she? “Chevy, what are you saying?”
“Eric, I think I like you,” she said finally. “As... more than a friend.”
Eric shifted his feet, almost taking a step back. “What do you mean?” he said, defenses immediately going up. This is what he had wanted to hear for so long, but now that she was saying it it just made him angry.
“You know,” she said, rolling her eyes. It was obvious, but he wanted to make her say it. “Like, I don’t know.” She struggled to get the words out. “Like, maybe, a boyfriend?”
“How could you be doing this to me?” He felt like he was screaming at her. He glanced at the door but no one was looking in on them. He pursed his lips with a growl and stepped away.
“Eric, I just—”
“No. All this time I’ve been here for you,” he said. “Sitting back as you talk about other guys, like every other guy, watching you kiss all the other guys.”
“Eric, you mean that—” He realized he just told her that he liked her, too.
“Yeah, a couple of days ago I was pathetic,” he told her. “Just waiting for you to look my way. No, I’m not going to let you do this to me.” She was just jealous? The thought grated at him. She was all over Blayze on Tuesday, she’d be all over him at the dance tomorrow, but didn’t want him to ever find someone. Or he’d just be there as back up? He gritted his teeth.
And what if Heaven could be the one? Not that he believed in soul mates or destiny or anything, but.... He didn’t know. Thoughts raced through his head too quickly. He marched to the door, spun on his heel and walked back. “I’m with Heaven now. And as soon as she comes along, you tell me this?”
“I’m sorry, Eric,” she said, reaching a hand out to him. “I don’t want to lose you, but that’s not why I’m saying this.”
“No. You don’t get to do this to me,” he said, finally rushing out the door. He didn’t look behind to see the tears on her face.
***
Motega flipped off his lights and slowed down as the silver, and hovering, sedan he was following came near to the facility. Elko, named after the nearby town, had no security on the parking lot, just the doors, if it was anything like when he had seen back in 2012. He pulled in and parked, careful not to draw attention. He watched as the occupant of the other car, none other than Dravin Davidson, got out and walked quickly to the front doors.
Dravin stopped in front of the doors and checked his pockets, presumably for a key card to gain him access. Apparently not finding it, he raised his hand to his ear, the holophone shimmering into existence. After a short conversation he lowered his hand and waited. A few minutes later a security guard opened the door. Dravin showed him his ID on his phone and followed him in.
Motega waited several moments after Dravin was gone. There was no sign of him returning, or anyone else. The facility was silent. He turned to his briefcase, left on the passenger seat. He flicked open the locks and lifted the lid. It seemed surreal, the grenade sitting there next to otherwise ordinary papers and files.
He rested his hand on the grenade and looked back up at the facility. It would be such an easy thing, he thought, to walk in, find the machine, and drop the grenade. He knew he wouldn’t be walking out of that place alive, or at least not a free man.
Leaving the grenade inside, he closed the briefcase and grabbed the handle. He had been preparing himself for this for two days now, ready to sacrifice his research, and if necessary, himself, to keep the machine he created out of the hands of Dravin and the government.
The device was more dangerous than even Dravin had originally imagined after what it had done, suspending them in time. And he shivered when he thought of what he learned the town had looked like for the past 87 years, the site of a major explosion. What would Dravin do with this? What could he do?
Motega thought of Alina and let go of the handle. He remembered how she used to smile at him, how she was so nervous to tell her about being accepted for another job. He laughed silently. At the time he thought she was going to ask him out or tell him she was interested.
Tomorrow there was that dance at the Mapiya High School. He had promised the Sheriff of the future that he would go with Alina and be a chaperone. Alina probably found a dress by now, and what he wouldn’t give to see her in one.
Motega put the car into gear and drove out of the parking lot and back onto the freeway. When he was far enough away he flicked his lights back on. It will be worth it to see Alina one last time at the dance, he figured. What must be done can be done afterward.