City Out of Time

By William Robison III

In his debut novel, William Robison begins the story of a young time traveler and his retrieval team. Set in the midst of world history, this is a story of adventure, romance, and heroism that is part history lesson and part action movie, and all kinds of fun...

Lanz Franco's life is going nowhere - and fast - until the death of his brother. All at once, Lanz Franco wanders into the desert, discovers a fantastic city out of time, learns that he is a time traveler, and falls head over heels for a mysterious woman. As a member of the Retrieval Corps, his job takes him all over the world and all over time to find objects needed to keep the City functioning. But a rogue time traveler has plans to stop the Corps by any means necessary.

Soon Lanz finds himself in the middle of a bloody war raging across time and space, and the only thing he can do is try to hold on to those people that mean the most to him while trying to get one step ahead of a madman before time is irrevocably altered...

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBookIt.com
• Release date: Apr 26, 2016
• ISBN: 9781456622244

Book preview

1864

Prologue

Mt. Charleston, Nevada

April 7th, 1996

Celeste leaned against a tree and watched the local boy scouts lower the flag. Even before the flag reached half mast, she began to pace the still frozen ground in agitation.

Colonel Buck did not waver in his solid salute until the young bugler had played taps. Then he snapped a crisp salute and slowly turned to face her.

Will you stop pacing? Colonel Buck asked; irritated in her motion.

Celeste stopped momentarily and then started to pace again.

I can’t believe I agreed to this, Celeste muttered for the hundredth time.

You didn’t really have a choice, did you? Colonel Buck asked. You’re damned either way, as I understand it.

She stopped then, frowned, and then looked at the ceremony below.

What a waste, she said. If they knew him like I do…

They’d still be flying the flag high, Colonel Buck finished for her. I have a great deal of respect for that flag, but sometimes a lie is necessary to protect a greater truth.

Celeste looked away from the flag and then, as if making up her mind on the spot, started to walk away from Colonel Buck.

Where are you going now? Colonel Buck asked.

I can’t be here, she said. I can’t see this.

Colonel Buck didn’t feel like contradicting her, nor did he feel like bringing her back. He turned back to watch the ceremony unfolding.

An honor guard escorted a man to the flagpole where all the other scouts were gathered. The man looked to be in his mid-twenties, in fairly good physical shape, with a shock of thick black hair, kind blue eyes, and an expression of dismay on his face. But there was something more about the man – something off-putting that Colonel Buck couldn’t quite name.

The man stood in front of the scout master, as they saluted one another and then shook hands. Then the man handed over a sash to the scout master. The scout master took it gently from the man and then turned to the rest of the troop and said a few choice words. Both the scout master and the man let the tears flow from their eyes and the boy scouts all bowed their heads in sorrow.

That’s him, isn’t it? Celeste said from near Colonel Buck’s shoulder.

I thought you didn’t want to see this, Colonel Buck replied.

Curiosity… the cat killer… Celeste countered.

Yes, Colonel Buck said, That’s him.

Celeste looked long and hard at the man and then turned to look Buck in the eye.

He looks bored, Celeste noted. Are you sure this will work?

Colonel Buck looked again at the man and realized what it was that he didn’t like about the way the man looked.

No, Colonel Buck replied. Not bored. He looks lost – like his whole world is crumbling around him and he doesn’t know which way to turn.

Lost? Bored? At least your job ought to be easy then, Celeste said.

That doesn’t make it any less dangerous, Colonel Buck noted.

As a chaplain came forward, the boy scouts escorted the young man to a chair next to the grave. The hundreds of onlookers looked up attentively as the chaplain stood tall and began to speak.

Colonel Buck turned away from the funeral and started walking into the thin woods on the side of the hill. Celeste had to walk quickly to keep pace.

Do you still have the gun? Colonel Buck asked.

Of course, Celeste answered.

Then I think we both know what we have to do, Celeste, Colonel Buck replied. While you take care of that gun, I’ll go introduce myself to young Mr. Franco.

Celeste hesitated. Colonel Buck stopped and turned back to face her. Without a word, he reached out and took her hands in his.

The time for reluctance ended when you joined us, Colonel Buck noted. You knew that this day would come. You knew that one day that gun would come to you. I don’t know what fate has in store for you, Celeste, but I do know what the first step must be.

The beginning of the end, she said, trying to sound like a joke, but the sadness choked the sound of humor from her voice.

The end of the beginning… Colonel Buck countered.

Damn, she muttered, as the tears filled her eyes, I really hate time travel sometimes.

Chapter One

Mt. Charleston, Nevada

April 7th, 1996

Lanz Franco   sat in the folding lawn chair overlooking the closed wood coffin. The coffin looked rather flimsy, like the sort of thing one might bring home from Walmart. Lanz wondered briefly if the Army had shipped his brother Seth home from Iraq in a cardboard moving box.

Even at this early hour, there was almost no breeze. The hot air was already beating down on Lanz’s head and it was hard to hear the chaplain speak over the sound of the crowd that had gathered.

If anyone was upset at the acoustics, Lanz had little interest. Other than a few Army people and an odd acquaintance or two, Lanz didn’t know a single person in the crowd. He’d been meeting with people all week who wanted to pay their respects to his brother – but none of them were familiar to Lanz. In fact, Lanz felt almost like a stranger at his own brother’s funeral.

Lanz stared at his hands and tried to pay attention to whatever the chaplain was saying, but his mind wandered to the phone call he’d had the night before with Seth’s only other living relative, Uncle Pete.

I’m sorry I haven’t gotten back to you before, Lanz, but, well, things were busy. I’m sorry to hear about Seth.

Yeah… well… he was in the Army. These things happen.

Is there anything I need to do… or did the Army take care of it all?

They killed him, Lanz said, The least they can do is bury him.

Yeah… good… so, um, obviously I’m not going to be able to make it.

I wasn’t really expecting you, Lanz noted.

It’s just that with the kids being in school and all… It’s a bad time.

Yeah, Uncle Pete… I understand.

They’d talked about something else after that, but then Pete had hung up and left Lanz to remember his brother on his own. Lanz had gone to the movies instead, hoping the change of scenery would do him some good. It hadn’t. He’d run into twenty people at the casino who wanted to know where the funeral was and when Lanz had told them, they laughed at some kind of inside joke that Lanz did not understand. The reminders of Seth were all over the city. Only now that Seth lay immobile in a coffin did Lanz realize how much Seth had been constantly moving in life.

Lanz yawned and tried to remain in the moment of the funeral – to soak it all in like the sunlight that was punishing the living things all around him. The chaplain droned on.

Somehow Seth being dead wasn’t nearly as shocking as Lanz had thought it would be. Though they were brothers and had spent most of their lives together, they had never really been close. When Lanz had gone off to college, he had known Seth wouldn’t stay put for very long. So when Seth had joined the Army the day after graduating from high school, it hadn’t surprised Lanz. He had seen his brother sporadically after that – less and less frequently as time went on. Even if the miles and the battles hadn’t separated them, the gulf between them continued to grow through the years. Lanz hadn’t spoken to his brother for more than a year. It had always been in the back of Lanz’s mind to reconnect with his brother once he had returned from Iraq. But now that wasn’t going to happen and Lanz found that he was okay with that. They’d never really had much to talk about anyway.

The chaplain finished speaking. He turned to Lanz and asked him if he’d like to say a few words. Lanz shook his head.

They fired the rifles. They folded the flag and set it in Lanz’s lap. They lowered the coffin. Finally, mercifully, it was over.

Lanz stood up and shook hands with complete strangers who wanted to tell Lanz all about his brother. One had been a ski instructor with him at Mt. Charleston. Another was a dancer at an exotic club in Vegas. A couple of guys tried to reminisce with Lanz about the time Seth had pulled some practical joke at Ft. Benning on their commanding officer that involved a goat and… Lanz had no idea what they were talking about, but pretended to be in on it anyway. Everyone loved Seth and they were all very sorry he was gone.

As the last person walked away, Lanz took one last look at the hole in the ground where Seth would remain forever before he headed across the brown lawn to his car.

He stopped halfway when he remembered that he’d left the flag back on his chair. He turned around and saw a burly Army officer approaching him carrying the flag. The man was a physically impressive sight – tall, broad shouldered, with a short shock of graying hair and a square jaw. But as the man drew closer, Lanz noticed that he walked with the help of a cane and that there was a cast wrapped around his lower leg. The rows of ribbons he carried included a purple heart with two stars.

Lanz saluted. This caught the officer off guard, but he smartly returned the salute and then came a few steps closer and stuck out his hand. Lanz grasped it warmly.

Lanz Franco? he asked.

Yes Sir.

I am Colonel Isaac Buchman. I was your brother’s commanding officer in Iraq. The men call me Colonel Buck.

I’ve heard of you, sir, Lanz noted. Colonel Buck was well known in Riyadh.

Seth told me you served in Iraq as well?

Very briefly, sir. I was a combat medic, but the war was mostly over by the time I arrived. I stayed with my unit during the mop up, but then we went back to Germany.

Well, you missed out on a damn fine war, son.

I know, sir. I’d only joined to keep an eye on my brother. But, as usual, he was just fine on his own.

Franco… I am terribly sorry for your loss, Colonel Buck said with evident sincerity. Seth was a good man… and a good soldier. He will be missed.

If I may, sir… how did he die?

I’m sorry… that’s still classified. What I can tell you is that he died bravely and honorably, Colonel Buck answered.

Thank you, sir, Lanz replied. I’ll try to imagine the rest.

I wouldn’t dwell on it too long, son. There’s nothing to be gained by carrying the dead around with the living. The living have got quite enough to haul around on their own. Your brother died honorably as he lived. I’d leave it at that.

Lanz admired the man’s straight-forward talk and nodded his agreement.

However, Franco… there is one last bit of business I need to take care of while I’m here, Colonel Buck noted. Your brother asked me to give you something should he ever die.

Oh?

Unfortunately, he left very specific instructions about where I was to give it to you. He said you’d understand when I told you.

Sounds like Seth to me, Lanz replied. Where is this mysterious place?

Baker, California?

Lanz nearly laughed. Baker was about an hour and a half south of Las Vegas on Highway I-15 – the first town you come to when leaving Nevada.

Sorry he put you to so much trouble, Colonel, Lanz answered, and then explained, There’s an all-night diner there that has the best pie. Seth and I used to go there whenever we needed to get away from things for a while. It was just about the only thing we ever really agreed upon. You don’t really need to go all that way, though. You can just give me whatever he gave you.

My instructions were specific, Colonel Buck noted. Besides, I’m a fan of good pie myself. Shall we meet there?

I have to work today, Colonel, and study for a test tomorrow.

Study? Are you in college?

I’m hoping to become a doctor, someday.

Good for you, son… How about tomorrow night?

Lanz thought it over and nodded. They shook hands and then Lanz saluted again.

Colonel, it has been my pleasure. See you tomorrow night.

Colonel Buck handed Lanz the flag and then turned quickly on his heels and limped away. Lanz had never thought to ask him about the cane, but something told Lanz that the question would not have been answered anyway.

Lanz climbed into his car, placed the flag on the seat next to him, and then headed off to work.

He was late to work and all the parking spots were taken in the parking structure. Lanz ended up finding street parking about three blocks away and had to walk through the blistering heat to the employee entrance of Desert Springs Hospital. After showing his ID, he was finally admitted through the security checkpoint and headed immediately to his locker.

As Lanz sat down on the bench in front of his locker and yanked one of his dress shoes off, he noted the yellow sticky note that had been placed on the locker handle. Mr. Fredrickson wanted to speak with him immediately. The note had been written two days before.

Lanz crumpled the note in his hand at the same moment that Jorge entered the locker room wearing an ice pack over his eye and a blood stain down the front of his hospital gown.

What the hell happened to you?

Drunk guy head butted me when I was trying to find his vein.

Great… Lanz empathized.

It gets better… for you anyway, Jorge smiled devilishly. He left you a mess in the emergency room bathroom.

Son of a… Lanz let the sentiment float away.

Oh, and the boss is looking for you.

Could this day be any more screwed up?

It’s early, Jorge said as he headed into the shower.

The drunk guy had tried to make it to the toilet but had failed, and a river of effluence now covered most of the bathroom floor and parts of the walls. It looked like someone had dropped a water balloon full of brown paint on to the floor. Lanz’s head drooped from the incredible crappiness of the job, then went to the janitor’s closet and removed a mop, bucket, gloves, facemask, and several gallons of bleach and disinfectant.

The job took him until lunchtime – a meal that he didn’t think he could face at just that moment. As he sprayed the bathroom down with an aerosol for the fifth time, Lanz really wondered if this was the career for him. He turned around and rolled the mop bucket and all of his equipment out of the bathroom.

Well, it’s about time, said a thirty-something yuppie who was standing in the hall with a self-important look on his face. Geez, how long does it take to clean a bathroom? My maid can do it in ten minutes. What were you doing in there?

Lanz ignored the schmuck and started to roll the mop bucket towards the janitor’s closet.

What? Are you deaf? asked the yuppie. You think you can keep me waiting two hours and then just walk out of there like nothing happened?

Sir… Lanz bit off his reply, and then added, The bathroom is now opened.

Idiot, said the yuppie.

Lanz waited until he was well out of sight and then flipped him the bird. But as he turned around, he saw his supervisor, Carl Buddig, standing right there – having clearly seen what Lanz had just done.

Is that how you treat our customers, Franco?

Lanz stifled another career ending reply and muttered, No, sir. It just… slipped.

You’ve been slipping a lot lately, Carl Buddig noted. Did you give some Mexican woman your business card?

Mrs. Concepcion?

She came here with her son – torn medial blah blah blah… She said that you told her that we’d take care of her… no charge?

What? Lanz asked. That’s not what I said.

But you did give her your card?

Yes, sir. I was trying to reassure her. Her son plays for the Hospital soccer team. He was injured while playing and I told her to bring her son here.

Did you know that she has no insurance?

Lanz had to think it through. No. She had never mentioned it one way or another.

The topic didn’t come up, Lanz stated.

Damn it, Franco! You know we’re required by law to take care of indigents that come to our door. I believe you just spent two hours cleaning up after one. But under no circumstances should we ever recommend one to come to our hospital! We’re not a charity!

I didn’t know they were unable to pay. If it’ll make any difference…

Lanz reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He opened the Velcro hinge with a loud zipping noise and then removed a Visa card that he’d just qualified for only the month before. He held out the card to his supervisor.

Look… put the charges on my card. I’ll pay it off myself… eventually.

Carl looked at the card and at Lanz, but before he could take the card or answer, Lanz heard someone clear his throat. Lanz turned and saw Mr. Fredrickson standing in the hallway.

A word, Mr. Franco.

It wasn’t a request. Lanz put the card back in his wallet and handed his supervisor the mop handle, then turned and followed Mr. Fredrickson into his office.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Mr. Fredrickson directed Lanz into one of two chairs in front of his desk and then, instead of going behind the desk, or taking the other chair, Mr. Fredrickson remained standing, leaning slightly against his sturdy wooden desk.

You’ve had quite a week, Mr. Franco, Mr. Fredrickson noted. We were very sorry to hear about your loss. I hope the time off you had was adequate to bury your brother?

Yes, sir.

Good… good… now, Lanz… it seems that I’ve been hearing your name quite a bit lately. There was some incident with a homeless family earlier this week?

They’re hardly homeless, sir, Lanz replied. And I believe it was just a misunderstanding. Vincent, their son, was hurt while playing for the youth soccer team that the hospital sponsors. He was badly hurt, so I sent them here to get the best care.

And what did their insurance forms ask you to do if the boy was injured?

Sir?

When the parents sign the waivers to play soccer, they submit proof of insurance. Usually the proof includes some directions for what to do in case of an emergency.

I don’t think we asked for proof of insurance.

I see, said Mr. Fredrickson. Do you have any idea how big of a bill they racked up while they were here?

No, sir. But as I was telling, Mr. Buddig…

It was quite substantial.

You can charge my credit card, Lanz noted.

Mr. Fredrickson sighed and he seemed weary.

It’s against our policy to have our employees pay for other people’s hospital bills, Mr. Franco, Mr. Fredrickson said. And the fact that you would even suggest such a thing tells me that you may not be cut out for this line of work.

I didn’t know there was a restriction on helping people out, Lanz noted.

Not only is what you’re suggesting impractical and expensive, Lanz, but what’s going to happen the next time someone you know is hurt or sick? Are you just going to let them remain hurt or sick? No, you’re going to try and help them too. Before too long, you’re going to be out of money. But will that stop you? No. You’ll get free medicines and bandages and… you don’t think so?

Lanz was shaking his head so furiously at that point that he almost forgot that he could speak.

No, sir. I don’t think so. I wouldn’t let that happen.

I’ve seen it happen, Mr. Franco. That’s why we have the policy… for people like you… for heroes.

I’m hardly a hero.

Being a hero is not a bad thing, Lanz – but it’s not a good thing if you’re trying to run a business. Our business model depends on us saving those people who can most afford to pay us. We can’t save everyone, you know.

But sir… we haven’t even tried.

Mr. Fredrickson blinked back his surprise. Excuse me?

I keep hearing people say that. You can’t save everyone. And the thing is, people use this as an excuse for not trying… what if everyone could be saved and we weren’t even trying?

Mr. Fredrickson shook his head, You are incredibly young and naïve, Mr. Franco. Trust me… we’ve tried.

I’m sorry, sir… it’s been a long day.

Mr. Franco, I can’t have you going around like this in your current state, Mr. Fredrickson noted. I was going to send you home anyway because of this whole indigent thing, but I see now that I’ll be doing you a favor. You need to take a week off. Get some rest. And then decide whether this hospital is really where you want to work.

Sir, I can’t… I’ve already taken two days off and I need…

This isn’t a negotiation, Mr. Franco.

And just like that, Lanz Franco’s day got even worse.

Despite the fact that it was 4pm when Lanz walked in the front door of his student apartment, his roommate, Jaymes, and several unknown compatriots were passed out on the living room floor with a noxious cloud of half-baked weed hanging over the room and a hookah pipe turned over on its side, like a downed pawn in chess. Lanz had to step gingerly over this party while trying to keep his mouth covered from the smoke.

Lanz went to his room, found more strangers sleeping in his bed, and decided to grab his books and go elsewhere to study for his osteology exam in the morning.

There was no really good place to study. He stayed in the campus library until it closed, then went down Tropicana Boulevard until he found a fast food place for a quick dinner. The fast food place kicked him out at midnight so they could clean and close up. So Lanz continued down Tropicana until he hit the freeway, then he popped off at Boulder Station. He found a quiet spot in one of the Boulder Station lounges, got a cup of coffee, and then cracked open his books again.

The sound of a floor waxing machine woke him at about 4:30am. Lanz, bleary eyed and with a stiff neck, hobbled to his car and drove back to his apartment. Bodies were still strewn everywhere, but at least none of them were in his bed. He shut the door behind him, kicked off his shoes and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Lanz was awakened by the sound of Jaymes opening the blinds in Lanz’s room. He squinted against the hard sunlight and looked up at his roommate who was now aware that Lanz had woken.

Missed a killer party, Jaymes noted.

I was studying, Lanz said. Why weren’t you?

I was throwing a I’m-Flunking-Out-Of-School party, Jaymes replied. Studying would have been one more useless thing to add to the two years of useless things I’ve done here.

I don’t know that you’ve completely wasted two years, Lanz said. You’ve turned slacking into an art form.

Sure… kick a man while he’s down.

I don’t pity self-inflicted wounds.

Well, when you decided to come off that high mountain of yours and mingle with us commoners, there’s some Captain Crunch in the kitchen – unless you want lunch instead.

Why would I… Oh God! What time is it?

Do I look like I have a watch?

Approximately?

I don’t know… almost noon, I think.

Lanz didn’t even have time to swear. He jumped out of bed, smoothed down his clothes and put his shoes on. He grabbed a pen and a notepad and ran out of his apartment.

He knew it was already too late, but sometimes you have to run even though you know you can’t outrun time. Lanz ran across campus and up the steps of the science building.

He reached the door of his classroom completely out of breath. He took a minute to catch his breath, then composed himself and went into the classroom where his professor was conducting another test with a different class.

The class looked up from their tests briefly, but then went back to their exams without giving Lanz another thought. Professor Barnes saw Lanz and a look came over his face that told Lanz all that he needed to know before he’d even asked. The Professor steeled himself to give Lanz bad news.

Lanz tried Professor Barnes anyway.

Professor, I’m truly sorry. My alarm clock didn’t go off. My roommate was having a party and I was out studying late last night. I’ve just had a really rough week, sir… Is there any way I can take the exam now?

All through Lanz’s question, the Professor’s head shook no. Lanz didn’t need to hear the words, but when he did hear them, it was like someone had slammed a door in his face.

I’m sorry, Lanz, but the rules are very strict in this case.

Is there any makeup?

This time Professor Barnes just shook his head.

Extra credit? Anything?

Lanz nodded his acceptance and started to leave, but at the last second turned and asked, And how much of my grade was this exam?

A full third, Mr. Franco.

A full third… at best, Lanz could hope for a 67% final score… with no chance of a grade curve to save him. He’d failed this course.

Lanz exited the classroom quietly, but as soon as he was out in the hall, he had this sudden urge to kick something and a small metallic trash can was close at hand. He really opened up on the can with a satisfying whack and watched momentarily transfixed as it arced through the air of the quiet science building hallway – his anger satisfactorily sated for a brief moment in time – until the trash can landed again on the tile floor with a loud metallic gong that continued to echo down the hall with each consecutive bounce.

Doors started opening up and down the hall to see what had made such a ruckus. Lanz quickly turned and ran down the steps of the building and out the front door. Campus police were already racing towards the building as Lanz ducked into a side courtyard to wait until they passed.

Finally feeling safe that nobody was coming to arrest him for destruction of school property, Lanz walked slowly back to his apartment – his mind trying to grasp all the different threads in his life that were unraveling and flying out of his control. It was just too much and Lanz had to stop more than once on his short walk to catch his breath. He felt physically assaulted by all the mental and emotional blows he’d taken over the course of the last four days.

There seemed to be only one thing to do. He was going to take Mr. Fredrickson’s advice and get the hell out of dodge for a few days – take it easy, get his head straight, figure out a plan of attack.

When he reached his apartment, Lanz went straight to his room and grabbed a duffel bag out of the closet. He didn’t really know where he was going, but he figured that wherever he went he’d need clothes and some deodorant and a few other key items. It only took him five minutes to pack and then Lanz headed out of his apartment and went straight to his car.

He threw the bag into the backseat and opened the driver’s door. He was just about to leave when he heard his roommate calling him.

Lanz looked up to the apartment door and saw his roommate standing there with the apartment’s cordless phone in his hand. He was holding the receiver in the air as if to say, Here’s a lovely bone… Lanz was tempted to get into his car and drive away, but curiosity made him go back to the apartment.

Hello? Lanz asked, taking the phone from his dim-witted roommate.

Mr. Franco, said the vaguely familiar voice on the other end, This is Colonel Buck… I was calling to remind you of our meeting tonight.

Tonight?

For pie?

Lanz looked towards his car and wondered if he shouldn’t hang up now and just go.

Yes… I remember, Lanz said. I’ll see you there.

Good. I will expect you.

Lanz put the phone back in the cradle and then patted his roommate on the back and said, Goodbye Jaymes.

Where are you going?

I don’t know.

Chapter Two

Baker, California

April 8, 1996

Pike’s Restaurant was every bit of the dump that Lanz remembered. In the 1950’s, Pike’s had been part of a small local empire that included a Mobil Oil gas station, an El Rancho motor hotel complete with swimming pool, and the eponymous Pike’s Restaurant. Not much was left. The gasoline station had been reduced to a couple of pumps. The motel had closed nearly ten years before. Even the restaurant was a shell of what it had been ten years earlier when teenaged Lanz and Seth had come here for pie and a few hours away from any sort of adult supervision. Not to gloss over Lanz’s golden memories of his youth… he knew the place had been seedy even then, but there had been a charm to seedy when he was that age. Now, Lanz almost felt embarrassed walking through the front door.

If Colonel Buck felt any sort of discomfort in his surroundings though, he wasn’t letting on. He sat back in a duct taped vinyl booth that probably hadn’t been cleaned in a couple of weeks. With a glass of ice cold milk and a generous slice of cherry pie in front of him, he looked, for all that any one could tell, like a man on vacation. The Colonel waved Lanz over and Lanz took a seat on the other side of the booth from the Colonel.

Can I order you some pie? Colonel Buck asked.

It should really be my treat, sir, Lanz replied.

The Colonel laughed and pulled a wad of dollars out of his pocket that was as big as a fist. It looked like hundreds of dollars.

See this? he asked, waving the money in front of Lanz, It’s play money. Where I live everything is taken care of – uniforms, housing, even meals. So money really has no meaning to me. I always have enough to get what I need.

Lanz looked at the money like it was a magic wand. Must be nice.

I also rarely have a chance to spend money, the Colonel noted. Pie, especially, can be a treat. Would you like a slice?

Sure, I said.

The Colonel waved the waiter over and handed him a wad of bills without counting them, My friend will have the same.

Yes, sir, the waiter replied enthusiastically, and as he walked off, he started counting the money in his hands.

Thank you, Lanz said.

It’s my pleasure, son, The Colonel replied. Now… shall we get down to business?

Business? Oh, right… the Will…

The Colonel hesitated, Is everything alright?

Yes… fine… why do you ask?

It’s just that you seem… well… you sounded kind of reluctant on the phone earlier. Is there something… was there something between you and your brother that I should know about?

My brother? No. Nothing. Actually, Colonel, I’ve just been having a really bad day.

Ah… I see… how bad?

The kind of bad that makes you question your place in the universe.

I’m sorry to hear that.

Quite frankly, I was thinking of getting away from my life for a while – maybe exploring a bit, finding a new place to live, a new life to have, a new me.

In my experience, no matter how far you run, you can’t outdistance your past.

Only I don’t really have much of a past, do I? My brother is dead. My parents are both gone. And the only family I have left, my uncle, would never come looking for me.

So this is about your brother, then?

Lanz took a moment to think about this before answering.

"Seth and I never really saw eye to eye. He was never serious – always wandering off into some new scheme or adventure. He was restless and wild. Without parents, he was a real handful. I was only a few years older myself, but the job or raising him was mine. Our Uncle Pete gave us a place to stay and food to eat and clothes to wear, but he wasn’t a parent. To him, we were distant relatives crashing on his couch. Seth was always running off and I was always bringing him back home. I think he resented me for that.’

‘But Seth was my only family, Colonel – my only connection to the past. We didn’t exactly see eye to eye, but he was still part of my life. It didn’t matter that we didn’t get along. Just seeing Seth would remind me of all that we’d been through together – all that we’d survived. But… ultimately… he finally found something he couldn’t outrun and I wasn’t there to bring him back home. Now, I’m on my own."

It was your brother’s time, Colonel Buck noted. Perhaps it was your time too.

What?

I once had a brother – only we weren’t related by blood. We joined the service at the same time, shared many of the same adventures, and lived, loved, and fought together. But then, tragically, I lost him. I was really torn up about it, Franco. I even thought about quitting. I couldn’t imagine doing this job without him. In a way, I was lost right along with my brother. But then, I realized that just because he was gone didn’t mean I had to quit. It just meant that it was time to move on to a new phase of my life. Maybe it’s time for you to move on as well, Lanz.

Before Lanz could say another word, the waiter arrived with another slice of cherry pie and a glass of ice cold milk. As Lanz contemplated the pie and the milk, Colonel Buck slipped a plain manila envelope on the table in front of Lanz.

This is what your brother wanted me to give you, Colonel Buck noted. He said that you’d know what to do.

Lanz looked at the envelope and nodded. Somehow, Lanz had expected something as ordinary as an envelope from Seth.

And now I’ve said my piece and done my business, Colonel Buck said. Please enjoy your pie and your milk… and with luck, perhaps our paths will cross again.

The Colonel slipped out of the booth and stood up, straightening his uniform as he went, and balancing on his cane. Lanz watched him stand with a bit of surprise on his face.

You’re leaving? Now? Don’t you want to see what Seth put in the envelope?

I’m not really the curious type, Lanz, Colonel Buck noted. I’m sure whatever he left you will have some meaning for you. But as for me, I’m only the messenger – and my job here is done. Goodbye, good luck, and God speed, Lanz Franco.

The Colonel turned so fast that Lanz was still trying to get his hand up for a salute when the Colonel hobbled through the front door of the restaurant and was gone.

Lanz turned back to the envelope on the table. It was plain and blank. He reached out and flipped it gently over. Something inside the envelope made a rattling noise as it hit the table top, but other than that, there was no indication whatsoever as to the contents of the envelope – no writing, no stamps, nothing.

Lanz took a bite of the pie, but it didn’t distract him from the envelope. Finally, he could stand the suspense no longer. He gently put down the pie fork, moved the pie and the milk to the side, and slid the envelope directly in front of him.

Lanz pried up the metal flanges that clasped the envelope shut and lifted the flap before shaking the contents on to the table. One piece of paper and a round object that turned out to be a compass slipped out.

Lanz slid the compass into his hands. It was a military issued compass. There were no nicks or markings and nothing to indicate that it was anything other than a compass. Lanz put the compass on the table and then picked up the single piece of paper and held it up to see what it said.

Lanz,

35529391 -116124235

Seth

Lanz felt a deep kick to his stomach. This was it? Some sort of mathematical joke? After all that Seth and Lanz had been through, all Seth had given him was a compass and some numbers… compass… numbers? Lanz rolled his eyes. The numbers were map coordinates.

Seth had loved the outdoors. Uncle Pete had taken them camping when they’d first moved to Las Vegas and taught them how to read a map, how to make a tent, how to navigate by compass. Seth had joined the Scouts and even become an Eagle Scout. Lanz had hated camping, at first, but had eventually embraced it for the time it allowed him to spend with his brother.

What the hell? Lanz muttered under his breath.

Everything all right? asked the waiter from behind the counter.

Lanz looked up and then slowly nodded, I’m fine.

All the same, he gathered the paper and the compass and then stood up and left the rest of his pie and milk on the table. He walked quickly out of the restaurant and went to his car.

He drove down Baker Blvd to the parking lot of the Bun Boy restaurant and pulled into the parking lot near the giant thermometer. By the light of a street lamp, he looked at the piece of paper again.

There was nothing more to the paper than coordinates - directions to some mysterious wilderness location. No hidden message. Had Seth left something for Lanz out in the middle of nowhere? Some buried treasure? Or was this some sort of practical joke from beyond the grave?

Lanz put the paper back in the envelope and added the compass as well. He was going to drive back to Las Vegas and sort this all out after a good nights rest and…

On the passenger’s seat was a folded up map that Lanz hadn’t seen before. Lanz could clearly tell that it was a government survey map like those used by the military. By the coordinates listed at the top of the map, Lanz knew that the map had to be of the same area where Seth’s paper indicated. Someone had put the map on Lanz’s passenger seat back at the restaurant and Lanz didn’t need to take two guesses to figure out who it had been.

Lanz looked at the paper again and then at the nearby I-15 highway that would take him back to Las Vegas. One direction led to a wild goose chase, the other took him back to his old life in Vegas.

Damn it, Seth… you know this isn’t my thing, Lanz muttered with frustration.

Lanz watched the trucks roll by on the highway for a minute more before he opened the map. The map showed the Death Valley area not ten miles from Baker. If Lanz started driving, he could be there in less than an hour. It was nearly ten o’clock at night.

In the back of his mind, Lanz could clearly hear his brother’s voice say, Then there’s no time like the present!

Lanz smiled to himself, threw the envelope and the map in the seat next to him, and started up the car. Somehow, no matter how screwed up his life was at that moment, it felt good to be going along on some sort of mad adventure one last time… for Seth’s sake.

He drove for nearly half an hour before he saw a place to pull off the road. It was the start of a hiking trail that led off into the desert.

Lanz kept the engine running while he found where he was currently on the map and made a note of the coordinates. From this point on the map, if he headed ENE for about ten miles he’d be pretty darn close to wherever Seth was sending him.

Lanz folded up the map and stuck it and the piece of paper with the destination coordinates into his pocket. He reached into his glove box and dug out an old flashlight. There was an old canteen in the trunk and he managed to find a nearly full bottle of water that he dumped into the canteen. He wrapped the canteen over one shoulder, took an old sweatshirt out of the pile of junk in the backseat. He locked the car doors and turned towards the desert.

The heat of the desert was still there, even at 11pm, but it was already starting to cool down. There were a few clouds, but Lanz didn’t see anything he had to worry about. Ten miles – a mile an hour – he thought he could reach his destination early the next morning. He’d conserve his water until the trip back.

Lanz took one last look at his car – most of his life packed into the trunk and the back seat. He switched on the flashlight and without another backwards glance walked off into the desert.

Chapter Three

Death Valley, California

April 9, 1996

Is it possible to have a mid-life crisis at 26? Lanz asked out loud.

The sounds of predators and prey played like muzac around him, but nobody answered him.

Lanz wasn’t sure why he was doing this. When he had finally gotten his driver’s license, he used to take off and head to Baker for pie with Seth. And when they were old enough for fake ID’s and mischief, they had often walked into the desert at night to share a six pack of beer and to lie about the girls they were interested in conquering. Lanz supposed it was the closest thing to bonding the two brothers had ever experienced -- wandering off into the desert alone at night in hopes of finding… what?

In truth, at the end of this particular treasure hunt Lanz half-expected to find a long buried six pack of beer. Though why Seth would hide such a mundane prize so far from the highway, Lanz hadn’t yet figured out.

Lanz checked his watch and realized that he’d already been walking for three hours. It was well past two in the morning. The long strides through dusty deer paths with the occasional stumble over rocks and low lying brush had started to take its toll. His flashlight had failed after only a half hour and Lanz had no idea how far he’d walked. The low hills where Seth had hidden his treasure still loomed ahead of him, rising out of the desert floor. At the rate he was going, Lanz suspected he wouldn’t reach the hills before dawn.

I’ll go faster if I stay hydrated, Lanz muttered through dry lips.

He eagerly opened the canteen and took a long sip, sloshing the water around the inside of his mouth to wash away all the dust before swallowing. He hardly felt better.

Gotta conserve, he said as he screwed the cap back on and started walking again.

Lanz couldn’t ignore the danger here. Uncle Pete had taken him and Seth camping in the desert when they’d been younger and impressed upon them the basics of survival. You didn’t ever take the desert lightly.

Lanz was older now and wiser. Lanz had had desert survival training at Twenty Nine Palms prior to his deployment in Riyadh. One bottle of water and a ten mile trek through the desert was hardly optimal, but certainly survivable.

Lanz laughed dryly and said to no one in particular, Famous last words.

He stopped, took another sip from his canteen and looked back towards the highway. He could no longer see it. The road had long since blended in with the starlit desert to form one long seamless expanse of nothing at all.

Lanz remembered getting a call from Seth one morning about a year after Lanz had graduated from High School. Seth had taken Uncle Pete’s jeep and some girl from his school and headed to the desert with the hope of a little moonlit nookie. Unfortunately, after going about thirty-five miles out into the desert, Seth had tried to impress the girl by four-wheeling over a large boulder. Instead of impressing her, however, Seth had high-watered the jeep on the rock. Seth and his date had spent the entire night walking back towards the road until they’d come across another campground where someone gave them a ride as far as Baker. Lanz had laughed the entire way out into the middle of nowhere as he drove another friend’s truck to help Seth get their Uncle’s jeep off the rock before Uncle Pete found out about it. The young lady had never spoken to Seth again. Lesson learned. You never took the desert lightly.

Lanz shrugged his shoulders.