The Temporal (20 page)

Californian Desert

Sam and Suteko thanked Mrs. Phillips for allowing them to stay and for her home-cooked meals. After paying the bill along with a few twenties as a tip, they made their way to the car Marcus had brought. It was a red convertible. Sam was surprised to see Marcus behind the wheel and actually enjoying the thrill of driving. He was about to make a comment when Suteko did a quick knife-cut finger gesture to her neck. He understood that it would be better to not comment.

A few
hours later, they were back in San Francisco and near Coastway Community College where Todd McGregor had worked.

“
We will begin our search here,” said Marcus without much explanation. Suteko and Sam followed the old man to the entrance gate of the school.

Sam had been patient, letting Marcus have his way, but questions were becoming increasingly hard to suppress. A murderer was on the loose and this murderer was thought to be a hero by the public. Whatever plan the Nephloc had devised, McGregor had some part to play in it. Sam hated that they were wasting time in California when he knew McGregor
, the murderer, was in DC.

“
Marcus. We’ve been here. We searched his apartment, met his neighbor, and learned he is a first class slob. What do you hope to learn now?”

“
Patience, my son. Listen to the echoes. They will show us the way.”

Sam turned to Suteko, hoping she would lend support to his cause, but she already had her eyes closed and by her breathing pattern, Sam knew she was listening deeply to the echoes. Sam sighed and began calming his mind and controlling his breathing
also.

At first, he only heard the sounds of students, loudspeaker announcements, and other noises of the past commonly heard on any college campus. Then he began to concentrate on McGregor
’s name and face—a face he had come to know very well thanks to Mrs. Phillips television and newspaper clippings.

His mind searched deeper for a match. He couldn
’t see as one sees naturally through the eyes, but even still, the echo patterns were almost visual. They could also be sorted and organized. The closer the proximity, the clearer and easier to manipulate they were. His mind moved in space and time to adjust the clarity. Sam was just outside the campus, but he could hear the echoes of a professor McGregor a quarter of a mile away in a building, down a hall, and in his classroom. He wasn’t sure when he was listening to, but he had a feeling it was fairly recent—maybe only a few months ago.

Now that he had the location and knew the specific pattern to look for, it was a simple matter of listening forward and backward in time. Surely
, something said or done would be helpful—a place, a hobby, a friend’s name.

Minutes passed and all three of the Temporal continued to listen and sort through the echoes but without finding anything interesting. Then, Sam heard Suteko whisper a single name,
“Michelle.”

Sam began again in earnest, sorting and searching for a match with the names McGregor and Michelle in mind. There were many commonalities. McGregor seemed to have called on her and spoken to her far more than his other students.

Michelle… Who are you?

He heard McGregor suggest an after class study session. Sam continued moving ahead in time but couldn
’t hear McGregor or Michelle after that point—perhaps that was his last day at school? He listened to the other students after that.

Sam
’s eyes opened wide.

“
Michelle,” he said out loud, waking Suteko and Marcus, “was murdered.”

Sam looked at Suteko
whose eyes were wide with surprise. She had heard the name Michelle and knew she played some part, but this was most unexpected.

“
Yes,” said Marcus who already had his eyes closed again. “Yes, Michelle was murdered.” His lips smacked as if something sticky was on his tongue. “She was murdered by McGregor. Good, boy. Listen to the echoes before that point. There must be some clue. How did he get to her?”

Sam closed his eyes and was once again there with McGregor inviting Michelle to a study session. He jumped back a few minutes. McGregor was silent, waiting.
Waiting for what? Michelle.
Michelle was talking to someone—a boyfriend. He will meet her at Alamo Park. Just then, Sam felt something strange go off in McGregor’s head.
A thought!
He could hear thoughts from the past! Or at least feel thoughts.
Alamo. Michelle. At the Alamo, we will be one.

Sam
’s eyes remained closed, but he voiced what he knew. “At Alamo Park, McGregor killed Michelle. I… I know where it is. I can see him map his way to the park. I can hear him plan how he will find her. He went there—I hear the echo of her muffled screams.” Sam’s mind was racing, trying to keep up. “Plastic in the back. There was plastic… A stick… This was not the first one.”

Sam lost it and was back in the present. He had heard too much.

“This was not his first murder,” Sam said, panting.

Marcus met Suteko
’s eyes. “Well done, boy,” Marcus said with an enthusiasm not tempered by the context. “Well done, indeed! Let’s go.”

Washington DC

“My fellow Americans,” President Hollenbeck began his address to a camera in the Oval Office. Also in the room were the technical and camera crew, the Secretary of State, and his Vice President, Todd McGregor.

“
A week ago, our nation suffered one of our history’s most trying moments: the loss of a president. O Captain! My Captain!”

Hollenbeck pulled to the side giving the effect of concealing a tear with his hand.

With the election only weeks away, the media had constantly hounded Hollenbeck to announce his candidacy. He knew what he had to do the moment he met that woman, but ever the political animal, he had timed the announcement for its most poignant effect.

He would die for her. Turning down the presidency was a small matter in comparison. And with her promises of riches and respect, his decision was an easy one.

After several seconds of silence, the president lifted his head again and said, “Many have asked me to run for the office. The timing is unfortunate, but it is a question that you, the American citizen deserve to have answered.”

He paused, looking squarely into the camera.

“The Twenty-fifth Amendment demanded that I should step up to fill the shoes of one of the greatest presidents this country has known—or at least that I should attempt to do so. But it does not require that I seek a full term once President Franklin’s term expires. My fellow Americans, I will
not
seek the presidency in November.”

He paused again and then nodded slightly as if to cement his decision.

“I will, however, make an endorsement. He has not sought this honor—that of being the president, but it is an honor that seeks him. Clearly, if we have learned one thing these past few weeks, it is that we need a leader who can face terrorism head on. We need an executive who has the experience and the knowledge to defend this great country of ours. No other issue is more important today.”

To the millions of viewers, President Hollenbeck appeared strong and confident. His words had weight.

“My fellow Americans, I can think of no person better qualified to protect America from the terrorism that has too often besieged our shores than my vice president. I hereby announce my support for Todd McGregor as the next President of the United States.” Once again, Hollenbeck paused before finishing by saying, “Thank you.”

The talking heads on the news channels went crazy. Everyone had expected President Hollenbeck to seek the office. He had, throughout his career, been exceedingly ambitious and had often talked about going for the highest office.

Once the shock of Hollenbeck turning down what everyone assumed to be a sure thing had passed, the conversation moved to McGregor. The consensus was that while the choice of McGregor would have seemed odd, ridiculous even, only a few weeks before, he would now be a shoe-in. The people were wanting someone outside Washington and someone tough on terrorism.
McGregor, more than anyone else, was a perfect blending of those qualities. He had shown the makings of a strong executive through his public press conferences and by privately working with law enforcement. Not only that, but he was without question the most popular man in the Western World.

San Francisco

“Are you sure it was here?” asked the old man after Sam led them to a specific spot within Alamo Park. They stood on a sidewalk, facing some bushes. By the spacing of streetlights, it did appear the area would not be well illuminated at night. The thick bushes would easily provide cover for someone to hide. Down the path about a hundred feet was a tennis court. Sam was sure this was the location.

“
Yes. This was his Fortress of Solitude. This is where he felt invincible and all seeing. This is where he waited for her.”

“
Very well,” said the old man taking both of their hands. “Follow my lead.” Suteko touched Sam’s hand and he held fast to hers. “Grab the present—now!”

Sam had seen Suteko do this twice. Once in New Orleans to save their lives and the lives of Cobbs and perhaps a dozen other pedestrians. The other time was at the press conference where McGregor accused them of being terrorists.

But this time felt different. This time, there was absolutely no movement. Sam was sure he wasn’t helping very much, but he could feel time slow and then stop completely. He could sense that the present moment was no longer marching forward.

“
Good,” said the old man. “Now, let’s move the present back to that night. Sam, find Michelle.”

Sam never broke his concentration but somehow, he heard and understood every word Marcus spoke. He began grabbing the present and sliding it over. It was as Suteko had said. The present could be
visualized as a malleable sphere. Touching it with his mentally projected hands, he gave it a little push.

He realized he had moved to a present that had occurred only yesterday. He snatched another moment and flicked it hard, sending it away with a new present taking its place. He had gone too far, but they were closer now. One more adjustment and…
Michelle.

There she was. He didn
’t see her or hear her, but he knew he had the right place and time. The boy from the class had just left. She… she was crying. Sam, Suteko, and Marcus could all hear her sobbing before Marcus grabbed hold of that moment and didn’t let go. They were actually there, existing in the past.

“
Good.” It was the old man’s voice. “You can open your eyes now. I have it.”

Sam and Suteko slowly opened their eyes. Sam almost screamed when
his natural eyes saw the girl, standing there still as a statue in the pale moonlight. The area was indeed dimly lit. He was seeing Michelle—frozen in time—moments before she was to be murdered.

It all looked entirely
natural. The colors around him, his depth perception—everything appeared as if it were reality occurring at that moment. Everything but the fact that nothing was moving and that he was looking at a girl from the past seconds before she was to be murdered.

“
You can’t do anything for her now, Sam.” Suteko had seen the concern in his face.

“
But she looks so real, so alive. I...”

“
I’m afraid Suteko is right, my boy. We are simply visitors,” said Marcus. “Now, relax and concentrate.”

As in New Orleans, the scene was surreal. No brush of a breeze on their cheeks. No sound of birds in the trees. No cars honking their horns. Nothing was heard or felt. Nothing but their existence outside of time.

But this was far stranger, far more wondrous. They were existing in a present not of their own. They were experiencing a moment that occurred weeks before.

Sam saw that the old man was holding something in the palm of his hand. He couldn
’t make out what it was. With the way time was being held back, he didn’t want to risk breaking Marcus’ concentration even as his curiosity grew.

“
Now, let’s ease this forward.”

Sam felt the light puff of a breeze before it accelerated to its natural strength. The sobbing
resumed. Sam risked opening his eyes again to watch her pitiable face. There was another sound. Rustling of leaves. Someone—McGregor—was behind the leaves waiting.

Then
the killer took action.

It happened so fast. Michelle was sobbing alone and then screaming in the bushes with McGregor
’s sleeve over her mouth. Sam watched, gasping. He looked around, but there was no one around from the past—no one to help. Even with his eyes wide and his heart racing, Sam did not break his concentration. Suteko and the old man had their eyes closed, but Sam just had to look as he leaned into the bushes.

“
Shut up! Don’t you see that I love you?” It was the voice of the killer.

Hearing McGregor
’s words was strange. Sam had become well acquainted with the voice of McGregor on television. And yet, this voice had a darker feel. It was the voice of an insecure and yet demanding man, very different from the confident and borderline arrogant voice of McGregor the hero.

Sam could not see far within the bushes, but he knew what was happening. McGregor suppressed her cries and began pressing down on her throat.

“It’s me. Professor McGregor. I’ve been waiting for you. Say you love me!”

He pressed harder. She
moaned something muffled and unintelligible.

“
I love you! Why do you look at me like that?”

McGregor continued pressing and declaring his love until Sam heard only the sound of McGregor
’s breathing and felt the odd sensation of the beating of a single heartbeat.

Sam couldn
’t control his emotions; he pulled away and covered his face with cupped hands. He began to shiver as if he were freezing. The shaking seemed to affect the sound he was hearing. McGregor’s pulsating heartbeat pounded louder and faster. Soon, Sam realized the sound he was hearing had moved from his ears to his own heart. His blood pumped in sync with the sound. Louder. Faster. And... together with McGregor’s pulse. Sam felt as if the blood vessels in his neck were bursting.

“
Wake up, Sam!”

Sam
’s eyes were open, but his vision was blurred.

“
Sam, look at me.”

Sam
’s eyes came into focus. He could see the concerned faces of Marcus and Suteko looking down at him. He was on the ground, and Suteko had her arms around him, supporting him.

“
I’m… sorry.”

“
No, my boy. You did it! Now, to DC!”

Sam was utterly confused, but he
got up and rushed to follow the old man the two blocks to their parked car. He held Suteko’s warm hand the entire way. She smiled and kissed him on his cheek. He was grateful—he needed to feel warmth, flesh, and confirmation that he was still alive. Her kiss also cleansed his contaminated thoughts; he had felt McGregor’s mind and had not walked away unscathed.

Marcus occasionally said,
“Well done, boy!” or “Excellent, Sam.” Sam had no idea what exactly he had done to garner such praise, but with Suteko glowing beside him, he almost wouldn’t mind doing it again. Almost.