Fate (Wilton's Gold #3) (27 page)

There was a quick blur, then Jeff’s world reappeared around him.

He was standing in the crevasse next to a paved road.

Alone.

September 30, 2015

Watching himself get shot in the back was something Jeff never wanted to experience again. Reason number four thousand, three hundred and eighty-one why time travel had to go.

He remembered back to witnessing when Ekaterina had learned of the consequences of having a younger version of herself killed, disappearing right before his eyes. The fact that he was still standing confirmed that his calculations had been accurate, and that he was indeed the younger of the two Jeffs who’d been standing and facing each other. Had he been the one who’d taken the bullet, they both would have been eliminated from existence. His explanation – at least when he’d started talking – had been a gambit to not get shot. By the end of his speech, though, he’d sorted through the chronology and fully believed what he was saying.

Standing in the middle of the desolate road where he’d been just a half-hour before, although it had really been three years into the future, he allowed himself to exhale. Had he finally gotten back to where he’d started and put himself in a position to set things right? He’d never hoped for anything more.

If his calculations were correct, he would have arrived comfortably after he time traveled with Ekaterina back to 1983. By his estimation, his return would have eliminated any multiple versions of himself and reinserted himself into his own life. Not knowing the fate of Joe Wilton and the heist, he didn’t know how the circumstances of his life might have changed. But he hoped that he was setting himself up for the best-case scenario.

He thought of Erica. Again, with the history of Wilton and his team in question, there was no telling if she was going to be delivered back to the present time in one piece. He would know soon enough – her device was set to two days into the future from where he currently stood. Though, he felt confident. He’d seen her leave with the device. He expected to see her appear in the middle of that very road in a short time. And anything was better than watching her disappear altogether.

Reasoning with himself, Jeff understood that at least part of his confidence stemmed from the fact that he knew she existed in history. While he wanted to nail this experiment on the first try, he was well aware that if things went wrong it
was
possible for him to try again. It would be messy – there would be so many multiple versions of himself walking around that it would be impossible to keep track of who was who. But it could work.

Which brought to mind whether, if he had to go back again, he would be in a position to save his other self so he could get back to the USTP. He hoped he didn’t have to deal with that. Of course, to do anything, he’d need access to his lab, and he really didn’t know the state of things. He figured that the whole Russia scenario had been altered, so the FBI wouldn’t be hunting him down for that reason. What he didn’t know was if they’d found the rusted time device in the forest.

To get that answer, he climbed back up the hill to where he’d been standing only moments before, watching his mirror image fall to the ground in death. He paused for a moment, not knowing how he should honor the memory and the location. He’d died, but he was standing right there. He took off his cap and put it over his heart, closing his eyes and reflecting for a moment. Then he returned the cap to his head and walked to the general area where Erica had thrown the device.

He searched all around, but it was gone. They’d already taken it. Things would have been a lot easier had they not found it, so it was an obstacle he’d have to overcome, but still not an insurmountable one. The important thing was that he collect Erica so that both of them could resume their lives.

Then, he would end time travel.

Pulling Abby’s tablet off of his shoulder, he started it up and was relieved to see that there was coverage. It wasn’t a terribly strong signal in the middle of the forest, but it was enough. He figured he was close enough to Reno that he was pulling from there, and was further encouraged when the satellite signal to the tablet confirmed that his date and time of arrival was accurate. He’d done it.

Navigating on the tablet’s browser, he searched for a rental car office in Truckee and requested immediate pick-up. He was told it would be about hour, so he climbed back down the hill and sat on the side of the road waiting, using the tablet to find out anything he could about himself and Erica. He started with Erica. He was most curious about her fate.

He was rewarded immediately, learning that, as in the life he thought he knew about her, she was a Stanford professor of history and was very much alive. He breathed a sigh of relief and his anticipation of reconnecting with her grew. For himself, most recently he found a
NY Daily News
photo of himself and Emeka at Christie’s standing in front of a pile of 60 bars of gold which they claimed had come from the infamous Wilton heist in 1849. He read the article to learn that they’d found the gold in a barn on Emeka’s family’s property in Arizona, which sounded like a ridiculous story. But the big news was that the heist had been successful, and not too long ago just up the road, he and his team had returned from the Gold Rush victoriously. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

But for now it was a means to an end, if it kept Erica around.

On schedule about an hour later, a white Nissan Versa pulled up on the desolate road and Jeff got in. The driver brought him back to Truckee, where they quickly filled out some paperwork and he was on his way. Wanting to stay close, and thankful that Fisher had given him his wallet back, he grabbed a room in the hotel that he’d stayed in while Dexter was in the hospital (which had never happened), and then dinner at the same Mexican restaurant he’d enjoyed before. He retired to the room in the early evening and slept like he hadn’t slept in... well, he had no idea how to describe how long it had actually been.

With two days to waste, Jeff decided to spend it on reconnaissance. Before he returned to his lab in New Jersey, he wanted to know as much about his situation as he possibly could.

After buying some clothes from the 21st century, Jeff took his rental car about an hour to the west to the California Gold Rush Museum to see the Wilton Diary. While he didn’t have the same recognizable name in historical studies as Dexter did to enable him to get a look at the actual diary, he knew that he could purchase a copy, which he did. Standing in the dusty parking lot of the Museum, Jeff read about his own heist of Wilton’s gold in the reprinted pages of Joe Wilton’s own handwriting. The mission had been a success, and hopefully the other version of himself had returned to the present time in a way that would not duplicate himself or interfere with his own plans. He had no way of knowing when they would have left or come back – only that it would have to have been before Erica stole his time device and took her own mission. He didn’t know how much time passed in between the two events, though.

When he wasn’t driving, he spent his time on Abby’s tablet, looking for evidence of himself and what he was up to in life. Besides the
Daily News
article, he found other recounts of the announcement of their “discovery,” one of which stated that the Smithsonian was avidly trying to negotiate the treasure for its historical archives. He read a few articles about his grant reward and came across a paper he’d published, “The Degree to which Molecules Can be Altered by Ionic Manipulation.” He’d won an award for that one. But other than his dealings with Wilton’s gold, there wasn’t anything new. Everything he found, outside of the heist, was already firm in his memory.

On day two, he toyed with the idea of reactivating his cell phone and making some strategic calls. Ultimately, he decided against it, wanting to wait until he was at least on his way home. He wasn’t concerned that he’d made a few purchases which the FBI could easily use to trace him, but was more worried, for some reason, about bugged phone calls. He didn’t want anyone to know what he was planning. Though he did want to make sure he tracked down Emeka as soon as possible.

He spent the evening dining by himself at the restaurant and thinking about the dinner he’d had in 1930 with the businessmen. It had been an enjoyable way to spend his time while he pursued Erica across time and the country. He thought of the US Time Program, which would be coming on-line fairly soon if he wasn’t able to stop it, and how they’d gotten it wrong. The excitement of going back in time wasn’t about seeing the past; it was about experiencing it. It was about talking to the people of whatever time you’re visiting, learning their culture, hearing them speak, and living their way-of-life. Essentially, all of the things that were forbidden by the Time Program. As misguided as the entire concept was – and he hoped that it hadn’t been his idea from the start – they hadn’t even captured the fantasy accurately.

Back at the hotel, he took a hot shower and then lay in the bed with the television off. He hoped that he’d be able to get to sleep, but it was a futile effort, his mind focused too intently on what would be happening the next day. It wasn’t about Erica returning – he’d been able to temper his enthusiasm about that. Interestingly, it was the science that resonated with him. He’d accomplished his mission of preserving her existence. This woman that he didn’t even know existed had become his sole purpose in life, and he’d successfully used time travel to save her. Having done so, he took comfort in his decision to have it end right there.

After forcing himself into four or five hours of stunted sleep, he woke and went through a slow morning routine, with a big breakfast in the hotel restaurant. He collected his things and packed them in the rental car, then checked out of the hotel. He drove to the site of his arrival three days earlier and parked about twenty feet from the giant crevasse in the rock. Strangely, a white Mini Cooper was also parked on the grass shoulder of the road, without an owner or driver in sight.

Jeff checked the time on his car’s stereo to see that he still had a good two hours before Erica was scheduled to arrive, so he sat several feet up the hill enjoying the cool shade of the trees above. He lay back on the pine needles and pulled out his copy of Wilton’s diary, starting at page one. With all of the research that he and Dexter had done on the Wilton heist – whatever version of it had been the true history at the time – he’d never actually read the man’s diary start-to-finish. Given the time he had, and a very enjoyable setting, he was going to relish getting to know the man who had made such a dramatic impact on his life.

He’d never read anything so fascinating, and he’d never finished a book so voraciously. In fact, he lost complete track of the time, following Wilton’s trek from Jefferson City, Missouri through the Henness Pass where he was ambushed and fought his attackers valiantly before his gold was stolen. The very next morning, he’d been ambushed again by a thief named Dan Carmichael, but his treasure was already gone. Jeff read Wilton’s accounting of how he pulled into San Francisco without any of his wealth just in time for the winter, and how he earned board for him and his team by offering to manage a hotel which he later purchased and operated.

Jeff had just two pages left to go in the diary when he was jolted by a penetrating crack in the air. When he was certain that his heart hadn’t stopped, he looked at the street.

Erica Danforth stood facing the giant rock, the time device in her hand.

October 2, 2015

Erica stumbled as her surroundings returned, but caught herself before falling. The first thought crossing her mind was that she almost hadn’t made it back. By her own doing, too. She was one ambitious scientist away from throwing her life away to prove a point. While a half-hour before she’d been adamant about her process, she found she was pretty darn thankful that things had turned out the way they had. Regardless of her morals.

Sitting on the side of the desolate road were two cars – a white Nissan Versa and a white Mini Cooper, the rental car she’d abandoned when she’d time traveled. She smiled and nodded, putting on a show for herself. The existence of the Mini was evidence that they’d somehow been able to keep history the way it was before she’d left. From one perspective it was profound, knowing what she – and to a greater degree, Jeff – had gone through. But put another way, it had only been a half-hour plus whatever time Jeff had added to the coordinates so she wouldn’t run into herself, so what did she expect – that things would dramatically change?

She heard a rustling on the hill across the street from her and looked over to find Jeff walking slowly across the pine needles. He stepped into the street, carrying a small book that looked like one of the replica Wilton diaries sold at the Gold Rush Museum. “That belong to you?” he asked, pointing at the Mini, to which she nodded. “Nice choice.”

She was already trying to think things through. “So, if you’re here right now, and that’s a part of history,” she said, “then why weren’t you here when I got here?”

He shook his head, smiling. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’m tired. I don’t want to think about it.”

“Fair enough,” she said, stepping into the street to greet him in the middle. She realized she was still wearing the sheet around her neck and laughed at herself, taking it off and stuffing it under her arm. She noticed the book in Jeff’s hand. “Doing some reading?”

“Yeah,” he said, holding it up for her to see. “Would you believe I hadn’t read it all the way through yet?”

“Unfortunately, yes, I do believe that,” she said, then fake pushed him. They hadn’t known each other enough for a big hug, but she was very happy and relieved to see him standing there. The innocent enough touch would send the message. “What’s the plan now?”

He sighed and waved her to the side of the road, where they sat on a small hill. Which was fine with her because she didn’t feel a pressing need to leave. They were in such a beautiful forest, and the specific spot had such importance in each of their lives. Hanging around for a few minutes wasn’t a bad thing.

“I don’t know what kind of day you’ve had,” he said. “We didn’t really take the time in 1849 to get to know each other. So I don’t know if you’ve been traveling and are tired, or if you’re ready to just pop back into life. Me, I’ve had a couple days to rest, so I’m feeling ready to get home to the East Coast. I want to be sensitive to how you’re feeling, though.”

She laughed. “You don’t have to worry about me. I wouldn’t be sitting here if it wasn’t for you.” He put his head down and grinned sheepishly. She didn’t know if it was because he was proud of his scientific accomplishment of figuring out how to make time travel work, or if there was more to it. “What’s waiting for you on the East Coast?”

“Well, for starters, my life,” he said. “I’m only realizing it now because everything has happened so quickly. In real time for me, I’ve only been gone for a couple weeks. But the terror that I suppressed during that time about not being able to get back to my own life, my friends and family, my work, everything... My heart is beating so fast right now. How many bullets did I dodge there?”

“Literally or figuratively?”

He paused for a moment, then laughed. “Yeah, good question.”

“So that’s it? You just integrate back into your life?” She was hoping for a more substantial response. One that involved doing away with time travel.

“No,” he said, leaning back on his hands and shaking his head. “It’s time to end this. First thing I’m going to do is get to my lab and dismantle the time device, then destroy the research. It’s way too dangerous. Especially now that I’ve seen what they intend to do with it in the future. It was one thing just doing experiments, but when time travel in the wrong hands becomes a viable weapon, it needs to be done away with.”

“Doing experiments?” she asked, laughing. “You mean going back in time and stealing money?”

“What? The Wilton heist? Remember, Erica, I didn’t do that. And even so, if it’s the only thing-”

She shook her head. “It’s not the only thing you did,” she said, remembering Jeff explaining to her what they were doing and ridiculously trying to justify it.

“Really? I had other missions?”

“A few of them that I know about, yes. You robbed a gangster in the ‘30s, and then went back to Colonial times and tried to rob a British Colonel of a chest full of jewels. But you failed, and Dexter got stuck back in the 1700s. That’s when you came to get me to help rescue him.”

Jeff’s eyes were wide. “Did we get him?”

“Yeah, we did, but then his life had changed. He was married to this historian’s daughter...”

If leaving had been a priority, it was quickly replaced in the pecking order of action items. They sat on the side of the road until the early evening, comparing time travel stories. She told him of their daring rescue in Colonial Philadelphia, his faux pas that resulted in the preservation of the records office, and their trip to the future to steal an armored car. He filled her in on his exciting mission to Russia to save the way-of-life that they all enjoyed, his first visit to this cosmically-favored spot in 1849 where Dexter had been shot in the leg, and the runaway train that was the United States Time Program.

It was an unbelievable history lesson that would have little meaning outside of their private conversation. And while he didn’t explicitly state it, her heart was warmed by the fact that, throughout everything he’d experienced, what drove him to continue was connecting – or reconnecting – with her. It was pretty incredible.

Eventually, the sun began to set and they got into their separate cars and drove to Sacramento, where he had reserved two rooms. In the morning, he’d leave for New Jersey, and presumably she’d return to her home in San Francisco. Presumably. Which would mean a lot of faith on her part that he would do the right thing.

As she lay in the hotel room unable to sleep, she plotted ways that she could ask to come with him.