September Sky (American Journey Book 1) (5 page)

"I'm listening."

"Put simply, I found your replies to my questions to be intriguing. You and Justin treated the exercise seriously and offered a refreshing mix of skepticism, enthusiasm, and candor."

"Thank you," Chuck said. "That still doesn't explain why you requested our presence this morning. If you had wanted to talk more about time travel, you could have just called us again."

"You're right," Bell said. "If I had wanted merely to shoot the breeze on theories, movies, and popular perceptions, I could have picked up the phone. I could have sent you an email. I didn't because I wanted to do more than discuss your responses to my queries. I wanted to offer you and your son the opportunity of a lifetime."

"The opportunity of a lifetime?"

"That's correct."

Chuck raised an eyebrow.

"Why do I suspect you're about to peddle an investment scheme?"

The professor smiled.

"Because you're a skeptical, cynical reporter who believes that everyone is selling something or trying to rip off their fellow man," Bell said. "Am I right?"

Chuck laughed.

"You're right."

"I thought so."

"So is my hunch correct?" Chuck asked. "Is your 'opportunity' an investment scheme?"

"In fact, it is. Only in this 'scheme,' I would do most of the investing. I would invest my faith, trust, and some of my fortune in two men I barely know in hopes of gaining knowledge that may someday prove useful."

"You have my attention, Professor. What's this about?"

"It's about a secret – a secret I have guarded closely for twenty years. It's also about a man and his work and my efforts to honor that work by bringing people I believe I can trust into a very tight circle."

"Continue."

"More than a century ago, my great-grandfather – a respected scientist named Percival Bell – did something that today would turn the world of physics on its head."

"What was that?"

"He discovered a way to move quickly, effortlessly, and safely though time."

"He traveled through time?" Chuck asked.

"He did."

"You're full of it."

"I've done so myself many times, sir. I have experienced firsthand what many of the world's best minds say is physically – and even theoretically – impossible."

"You have proof of this, of course," Chuck said.

"Define proof," Bell said. "Can I offer a video that proves I've done as I've claimed? No. I cannot. What I
can
offer is the past itself. I can offer you the opportunity to visit times that exist only in history books and remain there for an extended stay. I can offer you the chance to do what few people have ever done and return to the present day as if you had never been gone."

"You're not joking, are you?" Justin asked.

Bell smiled warmly.

"I wouldn't joke about something like this."

Chuck took a moment to ponder all that he had heard. He still thought the professor was full of it, but not as full of it as he had first thought. He decided to play along.

"Suppose we take you up on this 'opportunity,'" Chuck said. "What's the catch? What are the drawbacks and restrictions?"

Bell widened his smile.

"I thought you'd never ask. There are, in fact, several matters to consider, including two that might give you some pause. I would insist, among other things, that you commit at least three months and three thousand dollars to this experience."

"So it
is
all about money."

"Hardly," Bell snapped. "I am independently wealthy, Mr. Townsend. I have enough money in one bank account alone to fund a hundred trips to the past. I ask for your time and money because I want a serious commitment from you. I want to know that my efforts are not being wasted on someone who takes this opportunity lightly."

"This could still be a scam," Chuck said.

"You're right," Bell said. "It could be. But ask yourself a question. Would a highly respected professor of physics with a fortune estimated at sixty million dollars risk ridicule, condemnation, and jail for a mere three thousand? I doubt it."

Chuck conceded Bell's point with a sigh and then exchanged glances with his son. He could see that Justin bought the professor's every word and wanted to hear him out.

"OK, Professor," Chuck said. "Let's assume that everything you've just told us is true and that your operation is legit. What do we do next?"

Bell did not answer the question immediately. He instead opened the top drawer in his desk, retrieved a sheet of paper, and placed it atop his desk.

"You make a decision, Mr. Townsend."

Bell pushed the sheet toward his visitors.

"Go ahead. Take a look."

"What's this?" Chuck asked.

"That, sir, is what's playing at the Time Travel Theater," Bell said. "I would like you to choose one of these performances and commit to the experience of a lifetime. Your choices are limited to what you see."

Chuck grabbed the sheet and held it so that he and Justin could view its content. The sheet was blank except for nine four-digit numbers that had been typed in a row near the top. The numbers were years ranging from 1900 to 1984.

"Why these years?" Chuck asked. "Why such a limited range? Why not 1066 or 1492 or 1776? I can imagine far more interesting years than the ones you've listed."

"I can too," Bell said. "But I can't offer you the opportunity to travel beyond 1900 or to most years from the past century. There are limits that even I cannot change. If you decide to participate in this grand adventure, you will have to do so at one of the appointed times."

Chuck scanned the paper again.

"I don't see any other information on this sheet. Is that your way of saying we could go where we wanted and do what we wanted?"

"No. It's my way of saying that we would discuss those particulars before you left," Bell said. "No matter where you went, however, I would insist that you remain within the United States, visit one or two places of my choosing, and keep a detailed written record of your travels."

"I see," Chuck said. "Do you mind if I ask you a rather blunt question?"

"I don't mind at all. That's why you're here."

"Why us? Of all the people you could have asked to take this trip, why ask us? Why not pick a historian or another scientist or even someone you've known and trusted for many years?"

"I selected you, Mr. Townsend, because I thought you would be perfect for the job. You are a thoughtful, ethical, capable journalist – a trained observer of people, places, and things. I want such a person to record the past and bring it back to me."

"OK. Why add Justin? You could have picked just me."

"You're right. I could have. I didn't because I knew you probably wouldn't travel without him and because he could offer a different, more youthful perspective on any experiences you might have. I also know from the information you provided on your cards that each of you is at a transitional point in your life. You are currently unemployed. Justin just withdrew from college. You have few ties and even fewer restrictions. Simply put, you are ideal candidates."

Chuck nodded and then looked away in the direction of the movie stills. As incredible as it seemed, he had a chance to do the impossible. He had a chance to escape to another time. A moment later, he looked at Justin.

"What do you think?"

"I'm interested," Justin said. "I'm
really
interested, but I want to think it over."

"I agree."

Chuck turned to face Bell.

"How much time can we take to consider your offer?"

The professor smiled.

"You can take as much as you need," Bell said. "But if you wish to travel at the next opportunity – on April 18 – you must report to me by Monday. I will need time to prepare your journey – and you will need time to get your affairs in order."

Chuck felt his stomach drop.

"What do you mean by 'get our affairs in order'?"

"What I mean, sir, is that while I can provide you with the means to travel to the past and return to the present, I cannot guarantee your safety during your time away. Should you, for whatever reason, be unwilling or unable to return to 2016, I would have to explain your disappearance to the authorities and others. I would prefer not to do that."

"I understand," Chuck said.

Bell brought his hands together again and leaned forward.

"In short, you will have to treat this matter with the utmost seriousness. Should you decide to take this trip, you will have to approach it not as though you will return in a matter of seconds but rather as though you will not return at all."

CHAPTER 7: CHUCK

Monday, April 4, 2016

Chuck stared out the apartment window, which overlooked a busy arterial near the eastern edge of the campus, and rehashed the arguments in his head one last time.

The pros were obvious. Chuck had an opportunity to do what few others had apparently ever done and travel to the past. He had a chance to participate in history and return home in time for dinner. Who in his right mind would pass up that?

The cons, however, were no less clear. He would have to give up three grand, the job at the
Blaze
, and conceivably a whole lot more. Bell had not sugarcoated the risks of time travel. If Chuck and Justin ran into any kind of trouble, they could be trapped in the past forever.

"You're still having doubts, aren't you?" Justin asked.

"I'm having a lot, son. I keep going back and forth."

"What's holding you back?"

Chuck turned away from the window and glanced at several forms Bell had given him at the meeting in his office. The documents requested everything from background information and clothing sizes to recent photographs and a release of liability should the time travelers sustain any physical injuries, financial losses, or personal hardships.

"I guess you could call it a general sense of unease," Chuck said. "Something about this just doesn't add up."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I'm still trying to figure out Professor Bell's motivation in asking us to participate in this 'adventure.' If he really holds the key to time travel, why on earth share it with strangers? Why not just keep the secret under wraps or share it only with a small group of people he knows and trusts? Bringing us in makes no sense unless …"

"Unless what?" Justin asked.

"Unless we're guinea pigs in an experiment that has serious downsides – downsides the professor doesn't plan to share with us."

"You're getting paranoid, Dad."

"Am I? What do you know about this guy?"

"I know a lot, actually," Justin said. "Last week I called a few friends who have taken his classes. Every one said he's a stand-up guy. Two have been to his house for dinner. From all accounts, Professor Bell is as normal and honest a person as you can find in this town."

"That still doesn't explain why he picked us."

"He picked us because we're ideal candidates. He even told us that. Think about it. You don't have a job. I just quit school. We have time, money, and no ties to this world except a few uncles and cousins and Grandma. Why
wouldn't
he pick us?"

Chuck nodded and then returned to the window. He knew Justin was right. They
were
ideal candidates for a trip like this. If they traveled to the past and never came back, only a smattering of friends and relatives would even notice. One person who wouldn't notice was an eighty-year-old woman in the advanced stages of Alzheimer's disease.

Chuck thought about his mother as he watched cars zip by on the street below. He had not seen her at the facility in San Jose since March 10 and not seen her as the person he once knew in years. He didn't feel right about possibly leaving her forever, but he also knew it didn't matter. She was in a different place now, a place he could never visit.

Chuck turned away from the window a second time and gazed at his only child. He couldn't help but admire the person he had become or, more accurately, remained.

If anyone had a right to be cynical and distrusting of people making promises, it was Justin Townsend. He had faced enough rejection, disappointment, and tragedy to fill a lifetime, but he had never lost his faith in humanity. He had never lost his faith in his
father
.

"So you really want to do this?" Chuck asked.

"Yes. I do," Justin said. "I know there are risks, but I'm willing to take them. I need a change, Dad. I need to clear my head, gain perspective, and maybe find a new purpose. Going to the past may help me do that. I want to accept the professor's offer. I want to go."

Chuck smiled as he studied his son's earnest face. He had to hand it to the kid. He didn't let doubts get in the way of a dream.

"All right. If you want to go, then we'll go. I'll fill out these forms, write out a check, and give the good professor a call," Chuck said. "In the meantime, do what you have to do to 'get your affairs in order.'"

"I will."

Justin walked slowly across the box-littered room. When he reached his father, he stopped, tilted his head, and looked at Chuck closely.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you still OK with the year? We can pick another if you want."

Chuck shook his head.

"No. There's no need. I'm OK with the year. You made a compelling case for it yesterday. If we're going to travel to the past, then we should go all out."

Justin nodded.

"We're going to have fun, Dad."

"I'm sure we will," Chuck said. "I
know
we will."

Chuck glanced at his son and smiled. Then he gave him a closer inspection and laughed. Wearing khaki shorts, Vans, and a Dodgers jersey, Justin looked like a Southern California boy on loan from Central Casting.

"What's so funny?" Justin asked.

"Your outfit."

"What's wrong with my outfit?"

"There's nothing wrong with your outfit –
if
you wear it around here. But if you wear it where we're going, you might turn some heads."