The Time Stone (3 page)

“
Hey watch it, buddy”
screamed Sylvia bumping into someone as she was trying to squeeze
her way through the crowd near the museum during the day, the press
vans and police cruisers maintaining their position from the
burglary the night before. She showed her press badge to the police
officer guarding the crime scene area near an array of yellow tape
but he shook his head and refused to let her through.

“
Sorry, I have strict
orders. No one can pass through!” the officer exclaimed.

“
Haven’t you become
familiar with the rights of the fifth estate, freedom of the press,
and so forth at the academy…” she yelled in response leading her
camera crew through the crowds and disgruntled at the idea of being
thwarted from going in to report the truth about the crime scene.
“Come on people, press coming through” she yelled but the officer
shook his head and held out his hands refusing them access. Other
officers soon approached including an overweight plainclothes
detective with a beige trench coat and hat.

“
What’s going on here?”
screamed the detective with a pompous attitude and toothpick in his
mouth.

“
Detective Cartwright,
we’re trying to get through. I’m Sylvia Armstrong, Channel Nine
news. Are you willingly refusing us access? You know this is highly
illegal. We have a right to report this.”

“
Not now, you’ll get a
chance later when we’re done investigating.” Said
Cartwright.

“
Hey, I am used to
investigative journalism on the ground floor. I was in the mind
fields of desert storm, many explosive sites of Kosovo, Somalia,
and Afghanistan. I need to be there” she pointed to the floor where
several suited men and uniformed officers snooped about and
examined the scene.

“
I’m sorry ma’am but I was
told no by the Lieutenant and Agent in charge.”

“
This is ridiculous. I
think you’re aching for a lawsuit.”

“
Hey” said Cartwright
pointing his finger in her face “you’ll have to wait. This is a
joint investigation with the Federal Bureau of Investigation and we
will have a press statement released shortly. In the meantime, hang
tight or you will be taken into custody” he added.

“
What?” Sylvia responded
rhetorically with a shocked grin as Cartwright walked away with the
officers but the original one who continued to stand by blocking
their path. “Hey, hey” she yelled again at the other officers and
suited agents walking by but they continued to ignore her. “We just
want to know what happened to the guard. Any word on
him?”

“
Sorry” said the officer
refusing access to her and the several masses of reporters and
pedestrians behind her.

Nearby, Agent Adam Stone talked with
his old buddy Lieutenant Brock Walton.

“
This time of year is
especially difficult with the news. The break in of the museum
really put an extra spin on things” said Brock.

“
Well it isn’t everyday
something of this magnitude happens in a town as isolated. I heard
about your local muggings and riots but nothing like this. I bet
everyone in town is a bit shaken up.”

“
I know. We are letting
people in on a case by case basis. Your division has issued top
clearance only orders on this case. Back there you guys can observe
a lot of ruckus from the press.” Brock looked at Sylvia and her
crew trying to get through and waving their arms over to
them.

“
Who is that?” asked Adam
looking at Sylvia.

“
That’s ‘hardnosed
investigative journalist’ Sylvia Armstrong. She is used to
unorthodox methods of getting to ‘the crusade for the truth’ as she
calls it. I collared her myself a couple of times for breaking and
entering where she didn’t belong. It looks like she is behaving
herself this time.”

Sylvia stopped and stood still
suddenly looking at the agent wearing a navy blue shirt and a
purple tie as he looked at her. She ignored the lieutenant barking
out orders to the uniformed officers around the area running back
and forth with evidence bags. Her eyes locked with Adam’s. He had
his hands on his hips and spoke to the lieutenant. There was a
sudden attraction between them. Sylvia wondered who he was. But in
the midst of the confusion her cameraman yelled out to her as her
crew found another point to get a clear shot from without crossing
the tape and they were headed in that direction. She followed them
passing by the agent and lieutenant on their way to the vantage
point. As Sylvia and her crew were in earshot of the pair of law
enforcement officers, she yelled out, “when are we gonna be allowed
to eat at the big kids table?”

Adam and Brock turned to Sylvia seeing
them walk away. They were shocked and Adam stared with a curious
frown at the young woman who he felt an unearthly attractiveness
to. “That Sylvia is interesting and feisty.” Adam whispered to
Brock.

“
I think she just crossed
the line, Adam. You want me to shut her up?”

“
Don’t you dare” he
scolded.

Sylvia walked coolly down the sidewalk
next to her cameraman who nodded to her in recognition “you got
some guts, we’re lucky they didn’t come after us.”

“
I don’t care about that.
I want to find out why the feds are on this.”

“
We got to wait for the
press release. There is no other way. Besides what makes you so
interested in that suit anyway?”

“
I don’t know but I got to
find out…somehow.”

CHAPTER 6

Miles away from the downtown area
where the mayhem of the crime scene continued, the daylight was
bright over the city’s residential district. The sun shone overhead
and the day was relaxed and quiet. The people of the city had
wandered about their daily routines in the urban center but far
from the chaos of the museum there was silence in the residential
district. The routine pedestrian population was gone, the people
either out at work or tucked in their homes dismissed from the
streets as they went off to their places of business or learning
not knowing what had happened at the museum the night
before.

Chronix Bay has had its share of
poverty and homelessness. Amongst those aware of the decay of this
society, were the lonely and impoverished individuals who sulked
about aimlessly. One of those wanderers, lost in his own world, was
James Timewalker, a young man in his late thirties. He strode down
Main Street.

James was often alone. He was
accustomed to many hardships during his life of failure and noted
each moment as he passed by the old high school, now an ominous
fortress in its after- hours appearance. It appeared empty,
lonesome, epitomized of utter want as he passed by looking up at
it. At this time of the year, it was vacant with not a soul in
sight. He remembered his life as a student thinking that he always
aspired for success and had failed to achieve it, whether as a
student or as a business man or as anything he ever wanted to be.
He grimaced as he thought of his failures in school, one of many in
his life. His eyes were dark and lonesome; somber and saddened. His
cracked olive skin bore signs of a wrinkle showing pain that comes
with age and he had a permanent frown on his face as he wandered
without a companion, without an opportunity, without a hope, and
without a prayer. He felt his dreams were an endless blur of images
forever forsaken in the long expanse of time. He often wondered
what the point of going on in life was when everything seemed to
equate to nothing no matter what he did. He had no worldly
possessions but the clothes on his back: a pair of faded denim
jeans, torn sneakers and a loose fitting burgundy shirt with his
sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Unlike the others that had
wandered throughout the city, he embraced the hot and humid air,
muggy like thick pudding, and, so he feared, a shallow precursor of
things to come. He had a heavy unkempt beard and a thick odor, not
having had a shave, bath, or warm meal in weeks. His personal
hygiene and his dreams had vanished long ago into the realm of
oblivion. He walked across the intersection of Main Street and
Avenue X as he had done hundreds of thousands of times before since
he was in grade school and now being thirty-five years old,
homeless and destitute, sad and lonesome. As clouds began to gather
and the rain began to suddenly pour down hard, he walked forward
with a sense of indignation and humility. He felt an acceptance of
his current state of affairs and how glory and hope might never
return to his world or to his heart.

After a moment, the rainstorm had
passed and James walked forward down towards the blocks surrounding
the pier and the Sea of Hope, the body of water that bordered the
small community where he grew up and still lived. His clothes were
drenched from getting caught in the midst of the downpour. He did
not know where he was headed for the moment nor did he know where
he was headed for in life. He looked past the small body of water
towards the shining downtown center with its tall buildings. He
hoped and prayed this one of many trips to the Sea of Hope would
yield some benefit but he felt he knew better.

He turned and saw in the distance a
silhouette of a woman and as he strained his eyes, decaying with
age, he saw her approaching suddenly. He thought she looked
familiar. His mind quickly conjured up the past image of a face he
hadn’t laid eyes on in ages, a young woman from his past who he had
once harbored great feelings of attraction for but had always been
too shy to speak to her. His mind was feeling aged but his soul as
mighty as a runway train. He approached her barely making out her
facial features, the intense sunlight blurring his vision. He
walked along the street finding it difficult to see. As the two
became physically closer, he saw more of her ever so slightly. At
first he thought he might be hallucinating, a mirage brought on by
fooled senses because of malnutrition and dehydration but as he was
compelled to approach her and did approach her, he saw her clear as
day. She was dressed slightly provocatively, wearing a short
mini-skirt, net stockings, leather boots, and a white cotton shirt
tied at her waist revealing her belly button, her sleeves rolled up
to her elbows. Her hair was dark with chestnut blonde highlights
and tied in a knot behind her head.

“
Tina May", said James,
his hoarse voice barely formed the words, “Tina May Prescott, is
that you?” He noticed her head turn, her dark brown hair and pale
complexion glistening in the open street lights.
“
She is very beautiful!"
he thought as he approached.

She smirked. “Do I know you?” she
asked, a young lady in her thirties, accustomed to life on the
streets.

“
Yeah, “he said standing
before her, “It's James. James Timewalker. We went to CB High
together back in …," he grunts, "...too long ago.” He laughed and
she smiled in return.

“
I do remember you now.
You always were a funny one. How have you been?”
“Well great…”

She caught his confusion. “You're not
doing too well, huh?” She frowned seeing his shabby and unkempt
appearance.

“
What about you?” he
asked.

“
Doing well,” she replied
shrugging her shoulders. “Trying to survive like everyone else,”
she added.

“
Ain’t that the truth? It
was nice seeing you. We ought to keep in touch.”

“
That would be great.”
Tina smiled in a manner symbolic of preschool puppy love. Then a
car pulled up, headlights bright purple of the old Cadillac. “Well
I got to go.” She pulled out a card from her shirt pocket and
handed it to him, “call me when you get the chance.”

He thanked her and pocketed the card
as she turned away and entered the old Cadillac that subsequently
pulled away. He felt the sense of butterflies in his stomach like a
school boy crush he carried once before. The feeling of romance
newly revived in him made him forget his troubles and feel young
again. He thought he would see her again soon. Then he turned and
realized the reality of his meager existence and that the truth was
that he was alone in the dimness of the street corner and he was
homeless.

CHAPTER 7

“
It’s how the other half
lives. We exhibit fortuned excellence of and for all
civilizations.” Broad Staffnight spoke so eloquently with his
silver tongue and quick wit that his echo could be heard down the
dim corridors and brightly lit hallways and doorways of the typical
lavishly decorated office building belonging to Temporo, Inc., a
major corporate giant in high stakes finance and not a typical
company in the downtown areas of the metropolis of Chronix Bay. The
arched portals mimicked ancient Greek architecture and the attitude
of the principal officers were akin to the Gods. “Just imagine my
friend, with the right timing and patience, we will be like
Gods.”

“
I like your style, Broad.
You have a bright future with this company.” The older man patted
his subordinate on the back as he walked out of the younger man’s
office.

“
I’ll see you at the
country club, Mr. Barry,” said Broad waving goodbye to his elder
contemporary, Mr. Marion Barry, Chairman of Temporo, Inc.’s Board
of Directors and a solid mentor to Broad as the elder man left the
room.

Broad then looked at his subordinate
Daniel Raymore, in-house accountant and chief bookkeeper, and
yelled out into the hallways, “Mildred, come in here please.” Broad
beckoned as he had done many times before in a loud and hoarse
manner for his assistant, a fair-haired young woman in a plaid
dress and small glasses. Daniel took this as his usual cue to leave
without question and slowly headed out the door as Mildred entered
the room. Broad admired her tall voluptuous frame as she approached
and he reached out as if to grab her rear end but smirked as he
pinched the air behind her. “Nice caboose mamasita.”