The Temporal (9 page)

New Orleans

It was mid-afternoon when Suteko and Sam landed. They had to wait while the giant 777 taxied to the terminal area. The seatbelt light came on and faded; as if on command, everyone in the plane stood and stretched.

“
You didn’t sleep much. I don’t think I noticed you napping at all.” Sam worried that her jet lag might be bad.

“
Actually...” She said, keeping her voice to a whisper, “I don’t sleep anymore. Well, not much anyway. I can get by with a couple of five minute cat-naps a day.”

Sam was certainly not yet blessed with that gift. He felt like he could sleep for days. He closed his eyes and indulged himself a bit while standing and waiting for the line to move. She continued to tell him that she also had experienced increased fatigue at the beginning. Sam was glad to hear
that what he was experiencing was “normal.”

“
Sam,” she said in a barely audible voice, “if for some reason I get delayed, you must go to this address.” She slipped him a business card, hiding it under her palm as if its contents were top secret. Sam glanced at the card. Above the contact information was “R.J. Accountants.” There were no phone or fax numbers printed. There was only an address with the apartment number 201 on it.

“
This is a Manhattan address?”

“
Yes. Promise me you will go. If you see me taken somewhere, you must go.”

“
Nothing’s going to happen, but even if it did, shouldn’t I stay around New Orleans?” he said with a look of concern betraying his confident words.

“
No. We have friends there. You will need their help. The old man will help. Just show him this card. He’ll know. Ask for the old man. He sought me out after my mother died and taught me how to listen to the echoes. He can do the same for you.”

Happy to be moving in the line out of the airplane, Sam smiled at Suteko before realizing she was frowning. Her face was dejected, paralyzed even. Becoming aware of his stare, she snapped out of her worries and mirrored his smile.

“
Don’t worry,” he whispered. “What’s the worst thing? You get deported and I follow you on the next flight.”

“
No,” she said in a voice a little too loud and much too stern. She smiled at the couple in the aisle behind them before turning back to Sam. “If I... have to take a vacation, you must take care of business. Just remember to relax and listen to the echoes. Seek out the old man; he will teach you how to hear the echoes better. I have never felt destiny tug this hard.”

Suteko bowed slightly to the Japanese stewardess and exited the plane into the walkway, Sam following.

They maintained silence until the walkway opened into a much larger room. In front of them was a line for U.S. citizens and one for foreign nationals.

Sam pulled Suteko to the side away from the rush to line up.

“Back there you said ‘destiny.’ I didn’t think you believed in destiny.”

“
Obviously, we each have choices to make. However, there are things that must take place. English has a wonderful, yet underused word: ought. I can walk away if I want to, but I know it is my—our duty to stay. We ought to do what is right.”

“
Suteko, I...”

She interrupted his words with a soft touch on his cheek. For a moment, Sam lost all sense of being. Her touch
removed every ounce of pain and fear that had begun to creep down his spine at the thought of their potential separation.

“
Let’s go,” Suteko said. “You go first.”

Sam looked to his left
—a long line snaked around several corners for foreigners. To his right was a single file line with twenty other Americans at most. Sam turned to Suteko to give a parting thought when she pulled out her blue American passport and gave him a gentle nudge to the right.

“
How...” He stopped mid-sentence realizing it was better not to ask.

The power of her healing touch mere seconds ago was fading as they both entered the American line. Sam grew nervous, but tried to calm down to listen to the echoes from the future. Perhaps he could hear if she was going to run into trouble.

The line was quickly emptying and he wished it would slow. Their time together was so precious, and despite his best efforts to keep his thoughts optimistic, he feared they would soon part.

“
Maybe you should go first,” Sam said, attempting to be the gentleman but in a voice more akin to a scared little boy.

“
No. If something happens to me, you must make it out of here. It is best to pretend you don’t know me. I promise I’ll explain everything once we are through.”

The two silently took a step forward as the American directly in front of them was allowed entry onto American soil.
Sighing, Sam bent down to tie his shoelace. His shoe had a knack for coming undone at just the right time.

“
Next.”

Sam yanked his shoelace tight and approached the man, presenting his passport and airline ticket.

The official, saying nothing, flipped through its pages while glancing at a computer screen. Seconds later, Sam returned his stamped passport to his pocket and was through customs.

Suteko stood before the silent official. Sam sunk into a corner again playing with his shoelace, this time pretending. Glancing up
, he tried to gauge the official’s expression. It was different than when he had gone through. The customs officer took long gazes at Suteko and then typed something on his computer.

This was taking too long.

Moments later two security guards approached Suteko. Both held their right hand to their pistol but did not draw. Sam watched from a distance and could not hear distinctly what the guards were saying. One grabbed her by the arm and the other cleared a path heading to a back door.

Sam was frantic. She turned to him and mouthed one word:
“Go!”

Sam made some effort to pull his eyes away from the image of Suteko being forcibly pulled away from him. Nothing, however, could break his eye contact. Nothing until the guard holding her arm followed her gaze and mouth movements to Sam in the corner. She had quickly looked away from Sam, but it was too late.

The guard slapped his partner and pointed directly at Sam whose face screamed accomplice.

Sam stood up and, with a brisk walk, exited the room.
In an instant, he had melted into the crowd of a busy airport.

Sam was lost. Suteko had been his anchor and now she was gone. Since she came into his life, he had not given a single thought to any grand plan much less the next moment.

Her words came flooding back.

Seek out the old man.

Reaching for that precious business card, Sam rushed to the nearest airline ticket booth. The next flight to LaGuardia was in twenty-five minutes. Luckily, there were a few seats left in first class.

A credit card charge and fifteen minutes later, he was seated in a lush window seat next to a rather large woman who would most certainly not be comfortable in coach.

The large woman was busily reading a little Reader’s Digest magazine with a cute puppy on the cover. Sam, not wanting to violate their unspoken mutual isolation pact, turned toward the window. He felt sweat beading on his forehead. He must stink something awful, he thought as he closed his eyes and began to replay the events of the past few minutes.

Memories of Suteko mouthing
“Go!” dominated his thoughts. The feeling of utter despair that he had felt returned, sending his mood into a downward spiral.

Slowly, the terror of that moment morphed into the more pleasant memories of
the Suteko in his reoccurring dream. There was no question. Suteko was the woman of his dreams. She had always been the woman in those dreams.

Sticking his hands into his pockets, Sam was startled when his right hand fell upon a bundle of twenties paper-clipped to a piece of paper. Unfolding the paper, he saw that it simply read,
“Go to the old man. I am fine.”

Sam wondered when Suteko had given him the money and this message. Had she known she would be detained? Had she heard it from the Echoes? Would he ever see her again?

Landing in LaGuardia Airport, Sam asked the information desk for the best way to get to the address on the business card. She told him a shuttle bus would be there momentarily to pick up passengers for Grand Central Terminal. From there, a taxi could take him to his destination in fifteen minutes.

He thanked her, bought the ticket, and waited outside. A few minutes later, a large vehicle with “LaGuardia Shuttle Bus” written on the side appeared. He hopped on and, finding a back seat, sunk low.

The trip was uneventful. He remembered the last time he was here. He had flown into JFK then. His wife spilled her peanuts all over the aisle. Sam smiled. It was funny how being around Suteko made thoughts of his ex-wife seem less painful, comical even.

Arriving at Grand Central, Sam found an eager taxi driver waiting at the bus terminal. Ten minutes of light traffic later, a row of tenements appeared. The driver pointed at one of them and said that was where his destination should be.

As the taxi sped off, Sam appraised the old building in front of him.
An old building for an old man.
He wondered why someone so respected by Suteko would choose to live there.

The building had clearly been high-end once but time had done its damage. The brickwork was finely
constructed, but the ceiling of the entrance was stained from what looked like smoke. What wood there was around the edging looked decayed or damaged by termites.

Approaching the apartment entrance, Sam was struck by a sudden feeling of weakness. He staggered and grabbed hold onto the brick wall for stability. It was as if he was experiencing an earthquake, but nothing outside shook; the shaking was from within.

He heard whispers and then shouts. Screams replaced the shouts. He sensed some presence nearby and that it was evil. Silence replaced the screams. He was already emotionally drained; the echo and the creeping darkness at twilight time combined to confuse Sam completely.

Then it all stopped. He continued to lean against the brick wall, hoping it was truly over. Somewhat recovering, he lifted his head to see the entrance. He violently shook his head trying to regain his composure.

What was that?

It had been the strongest
“Echo” since he first heard the voices in that Japanese hospital room. He couldn’t tell what it meant, but he had a feeling it wasn’t good.

“
Samuel. It is good to meet you.”

Sam turned his head to see
the face of an old man wearing a bowler hat. It was only then that he realized the stranger was holding him up, preventing him from falling. Sam strengthened his legs and stood straight, releasing himself from the man’s hold.

“
Are you the… old man?”

“
I am the one you seek. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Sam nodded, not sure what to say.

“Come, boy, let us go for a walk while you fill me in. Spare no detail.”

Sam followed the stranger as they walked down a busy street filled with parked cars, shabby clothed pedestrians, and zooming taxis. The old man
’s voice sounded familiar somehow, but he said very little, preferring to listen to Sam talk instead.

“
Sir, I do not understand what is happening, but the authorities at the airport stopped Suteko. I didn’t want to leave her, but she gave me orders to go find you should something happen to her.”

“
You did the right thing, boy,” the old man said with his eyes looking down. His hat had a wide brim for a bowler; it kept his eyes hidden. “But tell me, how did this all begin? Do you hear voices?”

“
Yes. There was an earthquake. I woke up hearing voices. Then Suteko appeared and I realized I had dreamt of her before. She says I am in a reoccurring dream of hers too.”

“
Interesting. But that isn’t the only dream you’ve had, is it?”

“
No, sir. That’s what led us here. I’ve had a nightmare and apparently Suteko has also.”

“
Go on.”

“
Death. There is a bomb that goes off and people start dropping one by one. I just watch helpless and unable to move.”

“
Yes, I have seen this too, but where will this take place? Where is Suteko going?”

“
You do not know?”

“
I would like to know what you know—for confirmation.”

Sam hesitated. A hint of aggression
was in the old man’s voice. Yet, this had to be the man Suteko sent him to. This old man knew Suteko; he knew Sam heard voices and had dreams; he knew everything that would indicate he was on their side and yet, something bothered Sam.

“
Come on, Samuel! Tell me where.”

“
What is the name of the business on your card?”

“
My card?”

“
Yes, the card I got from Suteko about you. The name of the business that is on your name plate at your apartment.”

“
Lives are at stake, boy. Tell me now.”

There was a distinct growl in his final words. Sam took a step back as the man
’s facial features shifted. It was slight, but to Sam, his face looked like the moment an old television loses its signal while changing channels.

A gnarly hand reached from within the man
’s sleeve. A second later, the hand was on Sam’s shoulder. Making use of a pressure point, the old man had Sam instantly on his knees.

Sam instinctively threw himself backward, managing to escape the man
’s thumbs. Sam continued his fall to the ground behind him but instead of losing control, his hands found a firm foundation. With a twist, Sam flung his legs around, sweeping the old man’s legs out from under him.

The old man fell backward, but
did not hit dirt. He arched his back in a way that resembled a Slinky toy. His momentum accelerated and shifted from his legs to arms and then back again. The man seemed elastic, lengthening and contracting at will. With a strong push off the ground, the attacker was—in a moment—standing erect again.

Sam stood unmoving and dazed.
No one can move like that
—
least of all an old man.

The elastic man with a bowler hat
grabbed Sam’s throat, giving Sam no time to respond.

“
You will tell me where the others are!”

Sam felt his feet arch up as he struggled to keep his footing. The man
’s arm was exceedingly strong and yet appeared so thin, old, and fragile.

“
Where!?” The hand began to tighten its grip.

“
Others?” Sam’s voice was little more than a whisper.

“
The Temporal—Where?”

The arm lifted Sam completely off the ground. Choking and unable to get oxygen to his brain, Sam began to black out. His arms were useless, but as the blackness crept
over his eyes, his ears caught some outside noise.