Escape from the Past (34 page)

“What about your shirt? That was pretty cool, they called you Max Nerds.”

“It’s torn up all right and my jeans and shoes are filthy. Not exactly evidence I was really there.”

Jimmy got up, shaking his head. “I still can’t believe you were actually gone for four weeks. It’s a great story, but…are you sure you didn’t just imagine this stuff? Had an elaborate dream?”

I punched the bed, struggling to control my anger. “I want to talk to your father?” I finally said.

“No way.”

“Why the heck not? He made the darn thing. He has to know how it works.”

“He’ll kill me if he finds out I loaned you the game.”

“He obviously knew it had problems.” I wasn’t so sure that Jimmy’s father hadn’t known.

Someone had called to check up on me. Or warn me?

“It had to have been an illusion,” Jimmy tried.

“There was no illusion.” I jumped off the bed and started pacing. “I really starved. I really was in that hellhole of a dungeon. I really fought with Ott.” I really fell in love, I wanted to add, but stopped myself.

Jimmy shook his head.

“I know how it sounds,” I said. “That’s why I want to ask your father.”

“He’s gone till next week. Conference in San Diego.”

Sunday morning I was wide-awake at eight o’clock.

“Did you fall out of bed?” my mother said as I sauntered into the kitchen. “What happened to you?” She was reading the paper and sipping coffee.

“I’m going to visit the Hanstein ruins today. Want to come?”

My mother put down her cup and folded the paper. “Sit down for a minute.”

I nodded and slid onto the corner bench across from her. Without comment, she grabbed my forearm. First patting it, she stopped to look closer.

“What in the world did you do to your hands?”

I shrugged and retrieved my fingers. “Nothing, I’ve hurt them in sports.”

My mother sighed. “You need to be more careful. You’re all scuffed up. Your face is cut and you have bruises on your neck. Then you come and hug me. Not that I don’t love your hugs. It’s just. You’re so different. And now you want to spend your Sunday with me.” She attempted a smile. “What is it you’re not telling me?”

“Nothing, Mom. Everything is fine. I’ve just been doing some thinking. And I…haven’t been too nice. You work hard and we barely see each other.”

She smiled again. “Maybe you’re growing up and I’m not giving you credit.” She got up and grabbed the coffee pot. “I tell you what. You go and check out the ruins alone and we’ll have a nice dinner together. I promised your aunt to stop by for lunch.”

I smiled. “Deal.”

The sun was breaking through the clouds as I climbed the path toward Hanstein. The antique Klausenhof appeared on my right. A blackboard announced wild piglet roast, red cabbage and
potato dumplings. Four tables were occupied by tourists, their maps and area information piled in front of them. I grinned. I’d been here a long time ago. I scanned the third floor, now offering first-class
authentic
antique rooms to the public. That’s were Lady Clara and the beadle had slept.

I stepped into the bar room.

“Max, what are you doing up so early?” the proprietor said. Everyone knew everyone around here. Just like six hundred years ago. “Can I get you something?”

I shook my head. “Thanks, just wanted to admire your place for a minute.”

The proprietor smiled and disappeared with a tray of fizzing Cokes and mineral water.

I hurried back outside and turned toward the castle. The road uphill was steep even paved. As I rounded the corner, the trail got steeper, past the herb garden and the kiosk where visitors paid entry fees. I climbed higher. In place of the outer walls, public toilets had been added for the thousands of tourists in need of relief. I turned right and found myself in the outer bailey. The view was amazing even from here, but my gaze was drawn toward the portcullis. Only one tower stood now and much of the old keep along with the outbuildings, the stalls and cellars had crumpled into nothing.

I stopped inside the main courtyard. I’d been here just two nights ago. I’d sat right here, next to Bero where we’d argued about sparing Ott’s life. I slowly walked inside the former great hall. This version had been added recently by Hanstein descendants. Rows of wooden chairs filled the space. Many people married here or assembled for some kind of event—the romance of a ruins.

Not romantic at all, I thought. A hard life where few had everything and most had nothing. Where life wasn’t worth much. Not for the knights, but especially not for the peasants. I stared at the Hanstein crest. I’d been somewhere here, standing in front of
Lord Werner to be made a squire. I giggled. They’d put me away if I told anyone.

Near the front door, a staircase wound away clockwise. The steps were narrow and bowed, thousands of feet over hundreds of years wearing down the stone. Upstairs two rooms opened in front of me. The
Kemenate
on the left. I’d slept somewhere up here. My eyes were drawn to a flyer near the exit. I began to read.

Lady Clara was mentioned along with Knight Werner. The feud with Schwarzburg. Wait a minute. It said Schwarzburg had attacked the castle with a bunch of artillery and that Werner had bound the Duke’s men on the roof to stop him.

I looked up. That obviously hadn’t happened while I was there. It meant, Schwarzburg would return later with more men and better weapons to get Werner and his castle. I swallowed. I should’ve known this piece of history, but I hadn’t bothered reading such
boring
local stuff. It had been many things—harsh, dangerous, cold and filthy—never boring.

I stared at the worn floorboards, almost hearing Lady Clara’s Surcot swishing the straw, smelling the smoky fire and seeing Juliana carrying wood. I rushed back outside. The right tower still stood. The former East German government had used it to spy on the West. I climbed to the top. The land unfolded below me in seemingly endless fields, meadows and patches of forest. Almost as good as the views I’d enjoyed when I was sick, I mused. Somewhere below was the river Werra where I’d visited Luanda. Somehow I missed the old woman.

By the time, I returned to the courtyard, I had made up my mind. I’d read everything I could get my hands on about Werner’s era. Maybe there was something I could use.

As fall turned into winter and I returned to school routine, my Nikes remained under my bed. I hadn’t cleaned them, the white faded into gray, the seams covered in muck. In earlier times I wouldn’t have been caught dead in them. Now I sometimes wore
them around the house. It was as if I could hold on the memory better.

Whenever the girls in my class talked to me or we hung out after class, I thought of Juliana. I’d left her hanging. She’d expected me to marry her, take her away from the squalor of her upbringing. I’d left Bero hanging. Bero had been made a squire to serve with me. We were supposed to do stuff together, learn sword fighting, horseback riding and the finer points of knighthood so we could one day become knights ourselves.

And there was Lord Werner who’d offered me his castle as a home, taken me in despite my weirdness, outlandish clothes and strange speech. Werner had even made me his own personal squire, something very unusual despite my brave act. And what had I done in return?

I’d disappeared. Undoubtedly they were searching for me right now—back then. Bero would bravely enter the village, check with his mother and Adela. He’d search the woods and the fields where he’d gone with his pigs. And what would he find?

Nothing.

Juliana would be worse. She’d cry every night, alone and secretly. During the day, she’d put up a brave face while taking care of Lady Clara. And while she’d watch the Lady and Lord Werner together, her heart would break.

I’d made such a mess.

As the weeks passed into months I began to doubt my own recollection of events. Jimmy had asked me a few more times and even offered to play the game in my presence. But I refused. I hadn’t been near the damn computer since my return except for homework and researching Hanstein history.

One night, I awoke bathed in sweat. In my dream, Ott had appeared at Hanstein, his eyes bloodshot and his nose pointed with whiskers like a rat. He’d slunk across the courtyard, sniffing and listening. Then one by one he’d found Juliana, Bero and Lord
Werner. He’d cut their throats while they slept. Sniveling and laughing like a madman, he’d looked for me. At first, I’d felt safe, but then, just like in my last dream, Ott had shown up on my screen. He’d stared and stared, his beady eyes searching. Then he’d jumped through the worlds and appeared in my room. I screamed before waking.

“Did you ask your father about the game?” I asked three months later while we were hanging out in town after school. The Christmas madness had started and
Silent Night
was blaring from the loudspeaker on Main Street. Stressed shoppers hurried with newfound gifts. I hadn’t even thought about the holidays. It had always been my favorite. “I sure have a lot of questions.”

Jimmy shook his head. “Why don’t you let it go? You know he’s super busy. He doesn’t have time for your stories.”

“They aren’t stories!” I yelled as Jimmy stopped at a window admiring the newest Apple laptop.

“I’ll get one of those for Christmas.”

I swallowed a nasty comment. “I bet he’d love to know what I experienced.”

“…in your mind.”

I stamped my foot in frustration. “No damn it. I didn’t imagine it. I tried to convince myself that it was some sort of optical illusion, the perfect sensory game—but it wasn’t. I’m going to speak to your dad even if I have to go to his office.”

Jimmy threw up his hands. “I don’t get it. Why can’t you chalk it up to having a cool experience?”

“Cause I can’t,” I said. “Cause I left unfinished business. Things I should’ve done, stuff I should’ve said.”

“So what, it’s too freaking late to think about that now.”

I stared at my friend. “What if I want to go back?”

“You can’t be serious.”

I pushed out my chin and nodded. “Why not? As long as I know what I’m supposed to do, the game’s goals and missions. Your father must know. Like would I go back as if I’d never been there before and play the same scenario or would they recognize me? Would I return where I left off or later? If I went later, would I still be a squire. Or would I get new challenges? Obviously I had
to become a squire in the first round.”

Jimmy stared at me. “You sure got hooked.” He threw up his arms. “Fine. I’ll talk to him.”

“I thought you had clear instructions not to share my work, Jimmy.” His father frowned though his voice remained strangely calm. Only his green eyes rested coolly on me as if he were solving a puzzle. Dr. James Stuler was an older version of Jimmy, dark hair graying at the temples with the same widow’s peak, tall but with an expanding belly. Extremely bright, he’d studied IT and computer science at Harvard, gotten a Ph.D. and worked in some high security facility in California and then moved to a development company in Kassel, Germany four years ago. A year after that he’d gone on his own and started a highly successful game development business.

We’d met in Jimmy’s living room, an expanse of couches, glass and stainless steel. I felt like drowning between the pillows and set my feet firmly on the floor.

“Sorry, Father,” Jimmy said. “Remember Max Anderson?”

I suppressed a grin. Who was Anderson? I was Max Nerds.

“He just has a few questions,” Jimmy went on. “Max and I play games together all the time. I was sure you knew that.”

Jimmy’s father leaned back as if he were bored. “So what’s the problem?”

I raised a hand. “Excuse me, Dr. Stuler. Could you tell me about the master level?”

Stuler’s bony lips stretched thinner. He sat up straight again, addressing Jimmy. “You didn’t play that version, son?”

Jimmy fervently shook his head. “I didn’t but Max…” His voice turned shrill. “I thought you said
we
could try it out.”

James Stuler raised an arm to cut Jimmy off. “Tell me what happened.”

I took a deep breath. “I spent four weeks in the Middle Ages, 1471 to be exact.”

Stuler stared at me. “Impossible.”

“Why?” I felt defiant. “I had all sorts of problems. Met a bunch of knights and peasants.”

“You returned after four weeks?” Stuler’s authoritative voice had turned to a whisper.

“Yeah, except I came back exactly the same time I left. So, nobody missed me and while I spent four weeks there, not a single minute passed here. I got pretty beat up, of course—”

“How do you know about the time?” Stuler leaned forward.

Somehow I thought Dr. Stuler knew exactly what I was talking about. “For one, nobody missed me and my watch quit running while I was gone and turned back on when I came back.”

“The people you met. Who were they?” It sounded casual.

I shrugged. “The Hanstein lords and Duke Schwarzburg.”

Silence fell across the couches. Several times, Jimmy’s father opened his mouth. Then he closed it. I wondered what was going on behind the man’s high forehead. His face certainly gave nothing away. At last Dr. Stuler spoke. “Impossible, I have trouble believing you.” He stopped and shook his head. “You played the same game as Jimmy.”

“No, I was there,” I yelled.

“But…”

“What?” Jimmy and I said together.

“You would’ve had to complete several missions.”

“And the missions are?” I said.

“He helped a girl, and he got in a fight with a nasty fellow. He lived at Hanstein,” Jimmy interjected. “You know…our ruins up the hill.”

Stuler ignored Jimmy. “The game includes different objectives. Each one is demanding, but they are complex because they’re stacked—missions within missions. Some tasks are easy, some hard. The game offers the ultimate historical experience, not make-believe on a screen.” His mouth twisted into a smile. I thought he looked crazy.

“Are you saying I just played a stupid game?”

Jimmy’s father shook his head. “That’s the ingenious part. You’re actually living every aspect of the historical environment you enter. And because you deal with real people and flexible situations, the game’s missions can’t be controlled. They’re different every time. Once you’ve passed through the markers into the game, the algorithms evolve according to the situation. A challenge for sure…” Stuler chuckled. “Isn’t that what gamers want? Adventure, fun?”