Time Travelers Never Die Part 49

CHAPTER 39.

To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths Of all the western stars, until I die.

-ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, "ULYSSES"

THE sensible thing to do would have been simply to leave it alone. Let Shel go. If he wants to wander through the ages, let him. But Dave knew that, if he did that, Shel would, in some manner, come back, or be carried back, to the town house on that Thursday night in mid-September. Before it burned. sensible thing to do would have been simply to leave it alone. Let Shel go. If he wants to wander through the ages, let him. But Dave knew that, if he did that, Shel would, in some manner, come back, or be carried back, to the town house on that Thursday night in mid-September. Before it burned.

He needed Helen. If it was at all possible to find a way to bring him home and sidestep the cardiac principle, he had to have her help.

The house had burned September 13. He pulled up the newscasts. Here was the town house, a charred ruin. And excerpts from a police statement that there'd been one fatality, a Dr. Adrian Shelborne. Then, two days later, another statement that the victim in the town-house fire had been bludgeoned to death.

One of Shel's cousins had posted pictures at her Web site, photos of Shel as a boy, Shel at ten in a rowboat with a fis.h.i.+ng pole, Shel with his father feeding a camel in the shadow of the Great Pyramid. And here was Shel in a high-school cap and gown. And with his prom date, whose name Dave had once known but had long since forgotten.

Shel at Princeton. Shel getting his doctorate. Shel sitting in a tree. Shel showing off his Toyota to a girlfriend.

And, finally, pictures of the funeral. The preacher. The coffin, supported above the open grave. The mourners. Helen was visible. And Jerry. But not Dave.

The drive home afterward was seared into his mind. He remembered the intersections, the people on the streets, people living as though nothing had happened. He'd kept the radio on, to put a voice in the car. Peace talks had broken down somewhere. Domestic a.s.saults were up or down. Couldn't remember which.

And there'd been that strange story out of California. The pileup on one of the freeways.

And two people stealing a body out of the wreckage.

Incredible.

At first, the aid workers had a.s.sumed they'd been trying to help. Panicked people doing what they could. Had to be. What other explanation was possible?

There was one.

DAVE called Helen at home-it was a Sat.u.r.day-and left a message. An hour later, she called back. called Helen at home-it was a Sat.u.r.day-and left a message. An hour later, she called back.

"Are you free this afternoon?" he asked. "I have something to show you."

"Okay," she said. she said.

"Dress casually."

When he got to her place, instead of escorting her to his car, he suggested they go inside for a moment.

That, plus the briefcase, got her curiosity up. "Sure," she said.

She lived in a sixth-floor condo above City Avenue. It was tastefully furnished, and a picture of Shel occupied a side table. They sat down opposite each other. "I've been doing some traveling," said Dave.

"Really? Where?"

He set the briefcase down on the sofa and opened it. She looked at the converters. "What are they?"

"An invention of Shel's father."

She picked one up. "It looks like a Q-pod."

"It's a time machine."

That provoked a broad grin. "Seriously."

"Helen, Shel and I have been traveling in time."

"Come on, Dave. You want to talk to me or not?"

"I'm not kidding."

She sat back and nodded. Right. Of course. Why hadn't she thought of it herself?

"It's true," he said.

"Dave-"

"If you'll allow me, I'll do a demonstration."

She frowned at it. Looked at her watch.

"All right," Dave said. "Let me show you." He handed her one of the converters. "Can you attach it somewhere? To a pocket or something? There's a clip on back."

"You're serious serious."

"Humor me."

She took a long, deep breath, put it into a pocket in her slacks, and fastened it. "Okay. Now what?"

"Stand."

He got up. She looked at him uncertainly, and stood.

"Ready?" he asked.

"I suppose. We aren't going back to play tag with dinosaurs, are we?"

"Laugh if you like."

"If you haven't noticed, Dave, I'm not laughing."

"Okay. There's a large black b.u.t.ton at the top. When you push it, the room's going to fade. Don't be alarmed when it does. Within a few seconds you'll be somewhere else." The skeptical smile was gone. Her eyes held him in a frightened gaze. She was beginning to wonder if he'd lost his mind. "Ready?"

She nodded, mouth open. Said nothing.

He fastened his own converter to his belt. "One. Brace yourself." That brought the smile back. But it was less self-a.s.sured this time.

"I'm braced."

"Wrong choice of words. Two. I'll be with you."

"Glad to hear it."

"Three."

She hesitated. Pressed the b.u.t.ton, and he immediately followed suit. The living room began to grow dim. She stiffened. The walls and furniture faded to a green landscape with broad lawns and gas streetlamps. The lawns and lamps became solid, and she staggered out of the fading aura. He caught her as she started to fall.

"Welcome to Ambrose, Ohio," he said. "We've gone upstream. Into the past. It's 1905." She was making odd murmuring sounds. "Teddy Roosevelt is president."

"Not possible," she said. Eyes wide, she was looking at the sky, at cl.u.s.ters of trees, at a nearby town, at the dirt road underfoot, at a railroad station. "Can't be happening."

Dave had been there once before, with Shel, when Thomas Edison was supposed to pa.s.s through, but they hadn't done their research thoroughly, and he didn't show up. It was a pleasant little town with tree-lined streets and white picket fences. Straw hats were in favor for men, and bright ribbons for ladies. Down at the barbershop, the talk would be mostly about the ca.n.a.l they were going to dig through Panama.

Birds sang, and in the distance the clean bang of church bells started. He helped her across a set of railroad tracks, and they stopped in front of a general store.

She leaned against him, trying to shut it out.

"It takes a little getting used to," Dave said.

"This is crazy." People were burning leaves, talking over back fences. Cabbage was cooking somewhere. A single car, an open coach, really, with its engine mounted in the rear, moved noisily past them and crossed the tracks.

"How long?" she said.

"How long have we had these?"

"Yes."

"For almost a year. Shel's father invented it."

"Okay." She was in a state of near shock.

"He went back to see Galileo." Dave waited for her to laugh. She just kept looking straight ahead. A couple of people came out of a drugstore, looked their way, then turned in the opposite direction.

"But . . . ?" She seemed unable to manage a sentence.

"The device got wet, and he was stranded. He's still there."

"Where?"

"In the seventeenth century."

"Then he's dead."

"It's complicated."

They found a cafe and went inside. Helen lowered herself into a chair near the window. "I can't believe this is really happening."

He described what he and Shel had been doing. Told her about Michael's determination to stay where he was. The waitress came, and they ordered coffee.

"It's hard to believe any of this," she said. "Even with that sitting in front of me." She indicated the street scene outside the window. A couple of guys were pa.s.sing in a horse-drawn cart. Signs on the walls advertised cigarettes and Coca-Cola.

"There's something else you should know."

"Wait. If we can really travel in time, we can go back and see Shel."

Her eyes pleaded for the response she needed.

He reached across the table and took her hand. "He's not dead."

"What?"

"You and I had lunch at Applebee's Wednesday. And afterward, we went to my place."

"Yes?"

"It wasn't so I could give you a Greek medallion."

"Why, then?"

"Because Shel had been there earlier that morning."

Her eyes slid shut.

"I wanted you to see him. But he'd gone by the time we got there."

"He's alive, and you let me go through that funeral?"

"I didn't know then, Helen. Not any more than you did. I a.s.sumed he was dead, and that was the end of the story. But he showed up at the house."

"All right," she said at last, "where is he now?"

"I don't know, Helen. Lost in time, somewhere."

"So who's in the cemetery?"

"He is."

"But you're saying he's still alive."

In a way, he'll always be alive. "Yes. He's still out there. But he won't come back."