Surfacing (Spark Saga) (23 page)

September 11, 2012

TO:
                            Zach Webb

FROM:
              E.G.W.

RE:
                            What you need to know

I have traveled enough to know that it isn’t wise to make it a habit.  Have you ever watched the surface of a body of water, when you throw even the tiniest stone in it?  What do you see?  A series of ever-expanding ripples, radiating from the center.  If you throw a big stone, the ripples are bigger and last longer.  My point?  Even a small adjustment to one’s memory or experience can have far-reaching effects, and they aren’t always desirable—or at least, may
cause obstacles for you.  To give you an example you know well, consider the fact that Tess returned to the day of her accident and saved Dani’s life.  That Dani lived is certainly a wonderful thing, but her presence created obstacles to your natural connection with Tess. 

To answer your question, the science of time travel makes it possible to access any conceivable point in the past or future—however, you can only visit times that are within your specific memory.  In other words, it’s not possible to return to 1865 and meet Abraham Lincoln.  You must have experienced it, or will, in the future.

My point is…stick to the present.  As I mentioned before, you can’t manipulate fate anyway, right?

I was going to wait to tell you this, but I think it will explain things, particularly my request of you.  When I went into the future the last time, there was a data leak that was picked up and stored in a CIA intelligence file.
I was caught, imprisoned, my chip duplicated and downloaded and what was left was returned to die with my body. 

I must explain this one detail to you, because I am certain you are confused at this point.
  When one time travels, his physical body is left behind, as he assumes his future physical body.  It’s as if the mind itself exists in a fourth dimension…. Floating, if you will.  Since time itself has no confines during the process of time travel, it all happens within milliseconds.  If the mind is hijacked during the process, the body dies, and the mind is fused to a future self and can never return to the former body.  Zach, it is with both sorrow and joy that I tell you:  I am alive, in the future.  In exchange for my complete cooperation with the CIA, you were given immunity and I was given access to a computer that I have programmed to communicate with you; however, there was one condition:  You must relinquish your knowledge and any access to Project Zero. 

My fear is that they will seek out both you and Tess, for what purposes I can only imagine.  This is the primary reason I want you to destroy it—to protect you
rself.  Incidentally, I have successfully managed to encrypt our email messages, so they are, at least for the time being, secure.

It is my regret that my death prevented me from suppressing or preventing this leak, but I am contained.  I have no time travel abilities left.
  My body no longer exists in your time and place.

As to your question about whether you should time travel…my immediate response is no, simply for the reasons previously mentioned.  On the other hand, I understand your curiosity and there is something to be said for a sense of adventure.  I will leave this decision to you, with a healthy dose of caution.  Make it short and to the point.  Don’t get caught up in it.  Then, destroy the evidence.

Affectionately,

E.G.W.

Incredible. 
My dad is alive, somewhere.  Some sort of information has leaked to the government.  They could be tapping my phone, emails, and everything right now for all I know.  Luckily, they are encrypted, but for how long?  If they have been working on this for two years, they must be getting close to cracking it.  Great.  Not only do I have knowledge of the greatest scientific discovery in the history of the world, but now I’m smack in the middle of a possible CIA plot to uncover it.  Could my life get any more complicated? 

And then this:  When Tess was in a coma, was she lost in time?  And if so, where?

If I am going to travel, I need to do it soon.  But first, I must talk to Tess.

             
Tess

Good news!  My headache is gone.  Bad news—I have to go back to school.  My mom wakes me up slightly earlier than usual the next morning, and I grumble at first, but then she mentions French toast, and I am wide awake.  “Be right down,” I say.

              I decide to go down for breakfast before my shower since I have plenty of time.  My mom is flitting around the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets, chirping to my dad about some dinner they are supposed to go to on Friday night.  He is slurping down a cup of coffee on his way out the door.  “We’ll get the details later,” he says, ruffling my hair.  “Have a good day, sweetie.”

             
“Eggs?”  My mom asks.

             
“No thanks, just the toast.”

             
“Your message was very sweet,” she replies, kissing the top of my head.  “Thank you.”

             
I vaguely remember sending it, and now I feel sort of ambivalent about it, mainly because I don’t like mushy moments.  At any rate, I respond.  “You’re welcome.”

             
“So…” she says, placing my plate on the table.  “I haven’t had a chance to talk to you much about your night at the dance.  Did you have a good time?”

             
“Yeah,” I shrug, forking the toast into my mouth.

             
“So you and Alex seem to be getting along well…”

             
Great.  I’m not exactly ready to talk about that yet, but now I have to.  “Yeah, we’re kind of…dating.”

             
Mom squeals.  “Oh, I
knew
it.  I could tell when he picked you girls up.  He was looking at you the whole time.”

             
I roll my eyes.  “Well, technically, it
was
just a friend date.  We sort of got together at the dance.”

             
“So you
danced.
”

             
“Yeah, that’s what you do at dances, right?”  I say with a chuckle.

             
Mom starts cleaning up the kitchen and just keeps rattling on about me and Alex.  “I just
knew
it.  I told your father…”

             
I finish my breakfast as fast as humanly possible, to avoid any further questions.  “I’m going to shower,” I mutter, making a break for the stairs.

             
“Ok, sweetie!  I will be gone by the time you get out.  Have a good day at school.”

After a pretty typical day at school, I am heading out to my car.  Alex has a student government meeting and Cricket is going somewhere with Kurt.  I am clicking through the music on my phone as I walk, and I get the odd sensation that someone is watching me.  Sure enough, as I get ready to open my door, the window of the car next to me goes down.  Incredibly, it’s Zach Webb.  I continue to get in, but he stops me.

             
“Hey Tess.”

             
“Oh, hey,” I say, turning around.  I try to act casual, but my nerves are going haywire and my headache has mysteriously returned.

             
“You got a minute?”

             
What?  Why? 
Remembering what Cricket had said about his “crush,” I fight to maintain a neutral face.  “Sure.  What’s up?”

             
“Can you get in?”

             
Huh? 
“Ok,” I say, opening the door and sliding in the seat.

             
Zach drums his fingers on the steering wheel.  His right leg is bobbing up and down frantically.  “I need to talk to you about something.”

             
What on earth would he need to talk to me about?  Dani?  Maybe he thinks I know something about John. 
“Yeah?”  I glance over at him, but I’m afraid to look him in the eye for some reason.  Why?  I’ve known Zach forever, and yet, we really don’t know each other at all.  He’s just some popular guy who dates my friend.

             
“Do you remember that day we saw each other at the graveyard?”

             
“Yeah, you mentioned it before…”

             
Zach takes a deep breath.  “You mentioned you were there for some kind of English assignment… Cricket’s.”

             
“Yeah…” I reply.

             
“It was something to do with geocaching, right?”

             
“Was it you?  I mean…it
was
your father’s grave, the last clue…”

             
Zach shakes his head.  “No.  But someone told me about it…someone…close to the family.  I followed all the clues and ended up there.”

             
“Hmmm.  So was it something your father did?  Before he died?”

             
“I honestly don’t know.”  Then he looks at me like he’s watching the most intense part of a movie, right before the verdict is read.  “I just know that both you and I were there, and that it’s not a coincidence.”

             
Not a coincidence? 
“What do you mean?”

             
His look continues, more focused now.  “I mean, there is a reason why we were both there, at my father’s grave.”

             
I feel a little sliver rush down my spine.  To tell you the truth, he’s sort of creeping me out at the moment.  “Um, well, it’s just a prank, right?”

             
“NO!”  He clips, almost cutting me off.  His eyes smolder.  “It is not.”

             
“Look, I have to go…”

             
“No,” he says, more gently this time.  “I mean—please stay.”  He places his hand on my arm and I feel the hairs bristle.

             
Suddenly his eyes look so kind and sincere that I can’t help but stare at them.  I actually start to relax.  It takes me a few moments to speak, but I finally manage, “What do you think it means?”  My breath catches as his hand twitches slightly.  “If it’s not a prank.”

             
“Ok,” he sighs.  “I think it was my father who put it there.”

             
“And?  Why do you think he did that?”

             
“There’s something I have to do…”

             
“Ok,” I reply, starting to get out.

             
“Wait—I mean, there’s something I have to do—with you.”

             
“Such as?”  He looks at me so seriously and almost desperately, that it is kind of cute.

             
“Come with me.  I will show you.” 

             
“But….”  I protest, thinking of Dani and Alex.

             
“This has nothing to do with Dani and Alex.”

             
What?  Did he just read my mind? 
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

             
“My father was a scientist.”  He says.  “He left these clues here for me—and for you.”

             
“But why?”  I am seriously confused.

             
“Do you remember when I asked you about hanging out when we were kids?”

             
I nod.  “Yeah…”

             
“Ok, well something happened that day…you were out in the yard and lightning was about to strike, and I pulled you back.  My father said I saved you.”

             
“Thanks,” I reply.  “But I told you, I don’t remember any of that.”

             
“My father spent years studying storms—lightning, in particular.  He was fascinated with it.  But something about that night haunted him.  Until…after your accident.”

             
“What’s that got to do with anything?”

             
“Your dad asked him to help…you were in a coma, and he thought he could bring you back somehow.”

             
Ok, I am feeling even more creped out than before.  I’m starting to feel a little like George Bailey, wandering around like a lost soul in his own skin.  Why do I get the feeling that he knows something about me that I don’t?  Part of me wants to know just what, but another part of me really wants to get out of this car.  “I need to get home—”

             
“Wait—there’s something else.”

             
“What?”

             
“I know why your memory is disrupted.”

             
“Excuse me?”