The Magician's Horses

By Brian Bennett

Dave’s agreement with Doc and Sally is to help the two adventurous scientists disappear into the future.
But being left behind by the closest people Dave has to family isn’t the bargain the eighteen-year-old expected.
When Dave follows after his mentors, calibration issues place him centuries past his target date. Countless years and miles of wilderness separate him from Doc and Sally.
Dave must survive in a primitive new world that has been waiting for him for a very . . . long . . . time . . .

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vireo Publications
• Release date: Oct 20, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310647161

Book preview

Dave knocked on the door marked 206. Nervously, he paced a tight loop, waiting for a response that didn’t come.

The long hallway of the well-kept apartment building tempted him back outside to the spring afternoon, but he had walked too far across the city to give up so soon.

He pulled a small strip of paper from his wallet and verified the printed address.

As he reached to knock a second time, the door opened slightly.

A woman spoke through the gap. Hello? May I help you?

Dave leaned toward the door and directed his voice into the opening. I’m here about the posting on the bulletin board at the library.

Oh, the woman answered in a pleased tone. I see . . . Good . . . Hold on.

She shut the door and left him waiting in the hall. After quite some time, a chain lock rattled and the door opened. Greeting him with pleasant smiles were a tall, thin middle-aged man and a small, heavyset woman of similar age. They were dressed rather formally, and he feared he’d caught them on their way out, but a closer look at their lived-in clothing told him they wore everyday attire.

With an outstretched hand, the gentleman introduced himself. Hello, I’m Dr. Rupert.

Dave firmly shook the lofty man’s hand, meeting his gaze at eye-level. The doctor’s thin, graying hair was cut short, but his eyebrows were slightly bushy and grabbed for Dave’s attention.

Come inside.

Dave gave a precautionary look into the tidy apartment and followed the couple into the entryway. Once he was inside, the woman closed the door and turned to face him.

I’m Sally, she said, with a plump but delicate handshake. Her sandy, shoulder-length hair was turned under at the bottom, framing her round face. And your name is?

Dave.

This is the questionnaire mentioned in the posting. The doctor tilted a clipboard toward him. You’re at least eighteen, I gather? The posting does say adults only.

Yes, for several months, Dave said, not surprised by the comment his boyish face and slim build had prompted.

The doctor looked him over observantly with a doubtful expression.

Dave made a move for his ID, but the woman interceded, giving the doctor a reassuring nudge.

Obliging, he handed Dave the clipboard and a pencil. He motioned toward a small writing desk and chair near the door. You may fill it out right there. Take as long as you like. There are no right or wrong answers.

Dave accepted the papers with a nod and flipped through them, quickly noting there were at least ten pages, front and back.

Okay, he said, sighing.

He sat down and started reading through the questions while the couple moved toward the adjoining kitchen.

Let us know if you need anything, the woman said, trailing away.

While Dave filled out the questionnaire, he could only wonder about its purpose. It was odd enough that he was being paid fifty dollars to fill out a questionnaire, but the random nature of the questions was even stranger yet. One question asked the color of the carpet in the hallway outside the apartment. A trick question, he assumed; it was patterned but mostly burgundy. The very next question asked which he found more frustrating, a square peg in a round hole or a round peg in a square hole. To his dismay, it also asked him to explain why.

He had anticipated a market survey asking about product preferences, but these questions suggested otherwise.

Occasionally, he glanced over his shoulder to see if the couple might be observing him from the other room. Each time, he found them going about seemingly day-to-day tasks with no regard for his presence.

He nearly laughed out loud when a question later asked him to name the most valuable object he had ever stolen. Suspecting a hidden camera was recording his reaction, he glanced around the desk until a sudden twinge of embarrassment for his notion directed him back to the task at hand.

Quite some time later, eager to finish, he uncovered the last sheet. His heart sank when he saw only one line on the page. It read, Please write a narrative describing an exciting event that you recall fondly. Feel free to use both sides.

His first inclination was to leave the page blank or simply write in a snide remark, such as, Finally getting to the end of this crazy questionnaire. He quickly accepted, though, to do his best and searched through his memory for noteworthy events.

He soon narrowed his ideas down to the one easiest to put on paper and began writing.

When finally finished, he had filled the front of the page and most of the back side. He quickly read over his narrative and corrected a few minor mistakes in his grammar. After a sigh of relief, he stacked all the papers back on the clipboard and slid them under the clip.

He stood and stretched, catching the attention of the couple in the next room, who put aside their tasks and slowly approached.

Dr. Rupert picked up a thick white envelope from a mantel cluttered by countless well-dusted objects. Here’s the fifty dollars, he said. Thank you for participating.

From the feel of the puffy envelope, it likely contained a mix of small bills, rather than a single fifty. For a moment, Dave wondered if it would be rude to count the money, but changed his mind after the doctor added, Go ahead and count it if you like.

Dave smiled and held the packet flat in his hand, as if weighing it. It feels about right.

They exchanged handshakes and thank yous, and Dr. Rupert opened the door for him. When Dave was a few feet down the hall, he heard the door close behind him.

Suddenly realizing he would never know the purpose of the odd questionnaire, he stopped and turned back toward the door, pondering the questions he should have asked before leaving. His imagination was filled with an assortment of responses the pleasant couple may have offered. He turned again and continued walking home, feeling that perhaps he didn’t really want to know.

Not until he was back in his apartment did he finally count the money, slipping one folded bill at a time into the slit cut into the lid of a large plastic container labeled Trip Money.

Appointment

Nearly a month after filling out the questionnaire, Dave was watching TV alone, as usual, in his modest apartment in his oversize recliner when his phone lit up and vibrated on the side table.

He glanced at the unknown local number on the display. He nearly let the call go, but after a few rattling buzzes he muted the TV and answered.

Hello? he said, with a questioning tone.

Hello, Dave? the voice on the line said. This is Dr. Rupert. You might remember me from our little business last month.

It took a moment to register the name.

Oh yeah, Dr. Rupert, he answered. How may I help you?

Well, Dave, we have another opportunity for you, if you’re interested.

He thought back to the agonizing questionnaire and was about to say no thank you when his attention turned to the half-full trip money container still as empty as the month prior.

Reluctantly, he asked, Um . . . what kind of opportunity?

It would be easier to describe in person. Could you come by sometime this weekend and discuss it?

I guess I could do that. Any particular time?

How about early Saturday around nine a.m.?

Dave wrinkled his face in disapproval. He knew he had no other plans, but did it have to be a Saturday morning? Relenting, he answered, Okay, I’ll be there. What was your apartment number again?

Two-o-six.

Okay, two-o-six at nine a.m. Got it.

Good . . . Thank you . . . see you then. We’re looking forward to it.

Dave wished he could say he was also looking forward to it, though he could only honestly reply, See you then.

He put down the phone and wrote 206 on a scrap of paper. He tucked the paper into his wallet, pressed the mute button, and went back to watching TV.

Shoebox

Dave gave little thought to the upcoming meeting throughout the week. When Saturday morning came, he woke to the sound of his alarm set at his usual work-week waking time of 7:00 a.m. Once finished with breakfast, he found he was ahead of schedule and wished he had adjusted his alarm to sleep at least another half hour.

He set out on foot, taking the long route, and paced his speed so that as he approached the door marked 206, the time on his cell phone display also approached 9:00 a.m.

He knocked on the door and moments later it opened to Dr. Rupert smiling with an outstretched hand. He practically pulled Dave into the room as they shook hands.

Come in, Dave, Dr. Rupert said, it’s good to see you again.

Dave nodded respectfully and took in the inviting aroma of fresh-brewed coffee.

Come in, come in. The doctor beckoned him farther into the living room of the small apartment. He motioned toward the arch-backed sofa. Have a seat, he said, settling into the matching side chair.

No sooner than they were seated, Mrs. Rupert entered the room carrying a carafe of coffee in one hand and three coffee mugs looped through her fingers on the other.

Politely, the two men stood to greet her.

Good morning, Mrs. Rupert, Dave said.

She set the items down on the coffee table and offered her hand. Please, call me Sally.

He accepted her damp fingers with an acknowledging smile.

They all took seats and Sally passed around coffee until they all had a cup.

Dr. Rupert took a sip and began. I’m sure you’re eager to hear what this is all about.

Yes, I’m extremely curious, Dave said, nodding, but I must say, Dr. Rupert, that if this is about some sort of clinical trial, I’m perfectly healthy and I have no interest in doing any drug testing.

Dr. Rupert chuckled. First of all, you may call me Doc, and second, I’m not that kind of doctor. I’m a physicist. Sally here is a psychologist.

Sally batted her eyes and smiled with a mocking show of flattery.

Doc continued, We’ve been working on a project for quite a number of years and we’ve come to the point where we need help putting our plans into motion and that, of course, is where you come in.

Dave leaned forward onto his elbows, prepared to listen.

Given the nature of our project, as you’ll find out in a moment, we didn’t feel we could advertise for the help we wanted. So we came up with the idea of using a questionnaire as a screening device to narrow down our candidates in advance.

Dave nodded slowly. It was making sense.

Well, unfortunately there was a down side to this approach and we’ve spent a lot of time and even more money screening candidates. We weren’t surprised by most of the responses we received. I’m sure you can imagine the appeal of a quick fifty bucks.

Dave felt a pang of shame, but took no real offense.

We hoped to attract higher quality applicants by placing our ads at the library and on the campus, but word certainly spread fast. This project of ours is self-funded, so we were going through our savings at an alarming rate. But fortunately for us, there were a few candidates who rose to the top . . . and you, Dave, are at the very top of the list.

Dave felt a slight blush in his cheeks.

So, said Doc, let’s get right to it and I’ll show you what this is all about.

Dave nodded and adjusted nervously in his seat.

Doc took a big gulp of his coffee, stood abruptly, and waited for the others to stand. When Dave and Sally had followed his lead, he marched in near military fashion from the living room with Dave following and Sally bringing up the rear. Momentarily, they entered the kitchen and surrounded the table.

Sitting directly in the center of an otherwise empty wooden table was a shoebox. Doc looked at Sally, then at Dave. After a suspenseful pause, he reached to the center of the table, glanced up at the clock on the wall, and removed the lid.

Dave found himself leaning toward the box even though from a standing position he could clearly see the full contents. The box itself was lined with aluminum foil. Some wiring and electronic components were clustered in one corner of the box.

Inside the box were a pocket watch, a wrist watch, and one final object that Dave felt somehow didn’t fit. Immediately, he came to the conclusion that this was a simple psychology experiment concocted by his hosts. He imagined Sally saying, Okay, Dave, which one of these objects doesn’t belong in this box, the pocket watch, the wrist watch, or the banana?

Sally, however, didn’t speak. Instead, Doc removed the banana, peeled it, and took a bite. Dave unconsciously took a step back from the table, thinking something entirely different; Oh my gosh, these people are nuts.

Doc broke off the end of the banana and passed the rest to Sally. She took a bite and likewise broke off the end, passing the remainder of the banana to Dave. He accepted it, but didn’t take a bite.

Doc grinned. Dave, he said, I’d like you to take a close look at that banana and see if you notice anything out of the ordinary.

Dave rotated the half-eaten fruit, looking at it from nearly every angle. He took a small whiff and could neither see nor smell anything extraordinary about this banana.

No, he replied. Looks like a plain old banana.

Old indeed, said Doc, Now, what if I told you that I put that banana in that box a year ago? Would you still think it’s a plain old banana?

Dave looked at the banana again. Realizing the implications, he suddenly had the urge to drop it to the floor.

Sally chimed in. It’s perfectly fine. Go ahead. Taste it.

He looked at the banana once again and smelled it.

What the heck, he said and cautiously took a small bite.

It tasted absolutely fresh. In fact, his personal preference