Puffer

By R. P. Ward

Lisa Chan Will she accept the job? Will she find the killer? Lisa: a martial arts expert and a lover of men. Do you believe she will put the job first like Tim did in book one? And the puffer fish, how does it get into the city to begin with? Lisa: a beautiful Oriental girl, she has a big job in front of her. She has had a good trainer in good ol’ Tim McCord. Then what about Spooky? Spooky the cat will have more adventure in the next story, A Horse Named Jake.

• Language: English
• Publisher: R. P. Ward
• Release date: Jul 10, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370110681

R. P. Ward

Born in Indian Territory in Northern Indiana at the start of WWII, he entered the military in late 1961 and spent the next twenty years living the adventures that most only dream about. Now in his 70’s, r. p. ward leads a somewhat modest lifestyle in the biggest little city of Reno, Nevada. There, his imagination is allowed to run rampant, and he is inspired anew daily.

Book preview

PUFFER

By R. P. Ward

PUFFER Smashwords edition

Copyright © 2017 by R. P. Ward

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Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All characters are totally from the imagination of the author and depict no persons, living or dead; any similarity is totally coincidental.

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FORWARD

In a city where crime has not established a foot-hold, a bizarre twist of fate has laid an innocent girl dead on the floor. Having no real police force or investigators, the decision is made to bring in one of the best investigators of her time. And there-in is the problem Lisa is not from that time. Will she respond to the request? Do her abilities stretch through the fabric of time? Will she be able to solve this mystery? And what will be the cost?

r. p. ward

PUFFER

Although the Puffer looks very similar to the porcupine fish, they do not possess the spines that their cousin does. They are very often mistaken for each other.

The Puffer is somewhat smaller than the porcupine and has a fused beak-like jaw.

Puffers often inflate their bodies as a defensive mechanism in order to prevent becoming a meal to a larger predator. Their flesh is poisonous when consumed.

They are vigorous feeders in aquarium settings and some species can be aggressive.

Puffers thrive in both the Atlantic and Pacific oceans and are often seen off the coast of Florida, the Bahama Islands, and Brazil.

A variety of species, they range in size of a few inches to well over two and a half feet. They prefer sea-grass, coral rubble, and reefs, and eat a variety of invertebrates and plants.

Caution: This fish can kill.

r.p. ward

CONTENTS

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

About the Author

ONE

An Entry In My Diary

October 12, 1987

The outcome of World War II had been changed, and Japan found itself on the receiving end of hostilities generated by both Russia and Germany in the latter part of the 1940’s. Japan was decimated out of existence with the newest weapons and devices available. With the invention of atomic bombs in the mid 40s and numerous biological weapons containing germs and viruses for which no cure had yet been developed, the outcome had been pre-determined. They were being dropped from rockets developed’ by German scientists earlier in the decade.

Japan was virtually eliminated from the planet and it was all due to one new American submarine, the USS Columbus, and its captain. That captain was, of course, me, Brandon McCord, grandson of the best investigator that New Jersey had ever seen. The submarine was my creation as well. Made of a Titanium outer skin, it was nearly indestructible, and with a new caterpillar silent drive impulse engine, it could travel almost anywhere in the open seas undetected.

Okay, we had reversed that outcome later, but at what cost? Half of my crew were already insane or dead or both. My men had become contaminated by the very stuff that killed the Japanese and that was something we could not reverse. So now the decision had been made and it was me that had to make it: me, this submarine, and what was remaining of the crew would sink in the deep water of the Atlantic one hundred miles almost due east of Bermuda. But at least, the killer disease would die with us.

Now, while there was still time, I brought out my diary and made the following entry. Then I re-read it just to make sure I had the basic facts right. The entry read: October 12, 1987. Today is Columbus Day. We are in deep water off the eastern edge of the Bermuda islands. The ocean here is both deep and cold. We experienced an explosion in the forward torpedo room. I sent Chief of the Boat to investigate. He called me over the intercom to report the observations he witnessed.

Captain! he said, this boat is gonna’ sink.

I knew the COB. He was not a man used to exaggeration so I knew right away the situation was much more serious than I originally thought.

How long do we have, COB? I asked.

I’d estimate about an hour, Captain. There’s a large hole in the side, too large to try to patch, he answered.

A cold sweat of dread swept over me as I realized the full extent of our situation.

Okay Chief, I said. Leave the dead behind. You and any survivors get out of there now and close that watertight hatch behind you. That may buy us an additional 15 minutes.

Aye, Sir. There are five with me. Captain, this hatch door is warped. Probably the explosion. It’ll close, but it’ll never seal. It won’t stop the water from entering the boat, he reported.

What was remaining of my crew was watching me intently as if I held the keys to their very lives. I did!

But I didn’t want them to know just how worried I was over our present situation so I showed no undue emotion on my face.

Do the best you can, Chief. And check on any other damage you may encounter on the way back here, I said. XO, move all non-essential men to the rear of the boat. I want to lighten the load on the front. Engine room, I want full reverse, best possible speed please. Planesman, give me five degrees up-bubble on the rear planes, maybe we can drag this scow up to the top. Probably won’t work but I have to try. Engine room, did you copy my full reverse order? I asked. I received no answer from the Engine room

Captain, I have five degrees up on the rear planes, but we’re not climbing, Sir, reported the Planesman.

It’s okay, son, I told him. Just hold’er there.

Very quickly I considered all my options. There was only one left and I knew I couldn’t consult my crew, or what was left of it. I needed to send out an emergency message to an old friend and I needed the dog Sparky to do that.

XO, I shouted, You have the Conn, I’ll be in my quarters for a few minutes.

Aye, aye, Sir. XO has the Conn, he repeated.

I knew this boat was doomed but there was no point in creating panic among the few sailors left alive. I reached my cabin in minutes, closed the door, and looked down at the ugliest mutt I’ve ever seen. Sparky, I told him, send this emergency message to Douglas Hardesty. Submarine-damaged beyond repair. Sinking in deep water East of Bermuda. Have less than an hour. I have something for you. Pick up as soon as possible. McCord out.

Sparky went rigid, lifted his tail, and the message went out via a message center located at his rear. And he possessed a locator beacon that Mr. Hardesty could use to track us if need be. I didn’t figure he would waste time in tracking nor would he send a message back. He’d show up.

I removed this old diary from my locker and began writing. This state-of-the-art submarine had been ravaged by death and disease, a bug we picked up while checking out a devastated Japan in the year 1950. The virus has affected most of our crew, including myself, driving some insane, others to a quick and painful death. Perhaps it’s a good thing for us to sink, we certainly can’t risk exposing the world of our time to the bizarre viruses that once removed the entire population of Japan from the war ravaged 1940s. How ironic, I thought. Today is Oct 12, 1987 again. It’s Columbus Day, We all lived and all died in the same day, so to speak, yet we had all been to sea for nearly one year.

I could smell the tell-tale odor of ozone in my cabin, the time matrix would soon arrive. I quickly packaged up my diary in a plastic bag and waited for the field generator to complete its formation. Within a few seconds, the matrix filled my small cabin. Only one person was in the field you. I handed over my diary, a look of confusion written across your face. You accepted the package and asked: Are you ready to go?

No, I answered. I’m staying here with my men and with my boat. Most everyone is either sick or already dead. It’s entirely my fault. Read my diary, it explains everything. Thanks for coming.

Are you sure? you asked, we can kill the bug you have right here, right now.

No, I answered, I created this mess and now I’m going to finish it here and now.

I reached into the field, took your hand and shook it, said my last goodbye and the matrix began to shimmer, a sign that it was about to depart. The field crackled and ‘POOF’, it was gone. I looked down; saw that ugly mug looking back up at me. Strange that Mr. Hardesty left him here with me but then, well, he can’t drown, he doesn’t even breathe. He can’t be killed can he?

February 14, 2145

Lisa was temporarily distracted from reading the old diary of Brandon McCord by a knock on the door. Few people ever really knocked anymore, especially here. It was so much easier to place a call into your recipients earwig and complete your transaction through electronic means.

She put two and two together which added up to Jessica Parker, an agent of the protectorate. Jessica was not born here or in this time zone but had volunteered for this duty, along with her brother. They were orphaned during the 1930’s. Both born and raised in Montreal, Canada, their parents were killed in an avalanche while enjoying a retreat at a ski lodge.

But Jessica was injured three years ago and spent a couple of weeks in Brigantine, New Jersey, much to the chagrin of Sergeant Tim McCord of the local police department. Jessica was rescued from the past by Mr. Doug Hardesty, a time traveler extraordinaire, who, as it turns out, is somehow related to nearly everyone, even Lisa Chan.

Now this was a period of time in which people did things slowly and enjoyed doing them that way. Lisa would have been surprised if her caller had been anyone other than Jessica. Still, Lisa went to the door and pressed a button, watching the door slide open to reveal her caller. It was Jessica, waiting patiently for their guest with a smile on her face. Jessica’s smile turned into a look of confusion when she saw what Lisa held in her hand.

Good morning ancient one, Jessica said, is that what I think it is?

Come in quickly, Lisa said. I’ve been reading the diary of Brandon McCord, the Captain of that submarine that Lara found. I have some very upsetting news; you’d better come in and set down.

TWO

A Body On The Floor

Friday, February 9, 2145

Trans-Atlantic City

A silent killer waited patiently for Lara McCord to show her face. A drink container belonging to Lara had been infused with the poison from a toxic and deadly fish but the killer was interrupted by a lab technician who had entered early and the killer had had no choice but to exit and hide in an adjacent room. Watching Lara drink the poisonous mixture and die quickly was paramount on the mind of the killer, but then, one must also be careful enough to not get caught yourself.

Peeking through a crack left by a partially open door, a view was afforded of the hallway that Lara must come down to access her workspace. The door at the end of the hall suddenly opened, Lara entered and made her way to her station. But then a scream erupted, breaking the silence.

It was the scream of a surprised Lara. She had just made a terrifying discovery. Something was wrong here! Why wasn’t Lara dead? Then the killer saw what Lara had seen, a body of another person lie on the floor. It was the body of Amy Gleeson, Lara’s assistant! She was dead!

Oh, no! The killer groaned inwardly. The wrong person drank the poison. Now the killer just wanted to run away and hide, but instead, became mesmerized by the scene of Amy. The killer was frozen, rooted to the spot by her body lying on the floor. Poor Amy, lying dead on the floor in place of the intended victim, Lara McCord. What have I done? the killer thought. Lara McCord has escaped me again.

Lara was young, just twenty-two years old, attractive to a fault, and born to Bronson McCord, a relative to the man who sank that submarine that lay on the ocean bottom, parked outside satellites number five and six by the flow of the current. Lara had a very high IQ too, higher than ninety percent of the population here. Add all that to the list of motives on the killer’s mind and, well, there were just so many reasons that her demise was considered necessary* The submarine outside was just one more straw for the camel’s back.

A call had gone out when Lara discovered Amy’s body. Soon this place would be full of people and the killer would have to remain hidden until everyone left. The killer needed to leave undetected and unnoticed by anyone if that were possible. It didn’t take long for people to start filtering in either. There’s that ‘hot shot.’ What was his name? Oh, yeah, Hardesty, Douglas Hardesty. And with his was Lara’s dad, Bronson McCord. Bronson is big and broad of shoulder. Look at that hair, red, very red. Just like his ancestors, I’ll bet! The killer thought.

Mr. Hardesty stepped forward and pulled Lara back away from Amy’s body. He and Bronson needed the space to examine the body themselves. Mr. Hardesty knelt down on one side while Bronson examined Amy from the other. They both checked Amy for signs of life but nothing could be found, Amy was most certainly dead. Again, both men checked for any visual signs of Amy’s death but it seemed as if she died quickly. There was no signs of any kind of struggle; no defensive wounds, no bruises, no punctures, no marks of any kind. Strange, there was nothing to indicate that she was ever here at all. Mr. Hardesty looked over at Bronson and shook his head. I don’t see anything at all over on this side, he said, How’s it look on your side?

Nothing on this side either, Bronson answered. The only thing I see that’s unusual is her face.

Yeah, I noticed that too. It’s slightly blue in color.

What do you think that means? Bronson asked. It’s almost as if she was strangled but there’s no marks on her throat.

Or she suddenly quit breathing, Douglas added.

Some kind of poison maybe.

Lara, Bronson shouted. Lara, get in here please.

Lara entered the room for the second time. Yes dad, you need me?

Mr. Hardesty took over the conversation. Did Amy eat or drink anything within the past fifteen minutes or so? he asked.

I just arrived when I found her, sir. I don’t think she ate anything wait, where’s my drink cup? Lara said and began looking for her cup. ‘

Don’t touch it, hollered Mr. Hardesty. It may be contaminated and it’s evidence as well.

Contaminated? Lara asked. I don’t understand.

Call the medical unit, tell them to get here right away, we’ll need a blood sample taken, Mr. Hardesty said.

Lara, we think that Amy was poisoned. What was in your drink cup? her dad asked.

Tea. But it’s empty now, Lara said, looking in at the bottom of her cup. I’ll go make the call for medical. I’ll use my private line though; I don’t want to make this public knowledge.

Communications, Mr. Hardesty hollered into his ear-wig. The two-way communications device was his preferred method of communication inside the city.

Communications, Aye, crackled a voice in his ear.

Call the Protectorate Division please; I want Jessica Parker dispatched right away to satellite number six. And I want her armed and dangerous. Mr. Hardesty ordered.

Aye, Aye, Sir, replied the voice and the line went quiet in his ear.

What are you thinking, Douglas? Bronson asked.

I’m thinking this is not an accident, Bronson, and I don’t think Amy was the intended victim here. If there is a poison in Lara’s cup.

You mean you think Lara is the intended victim? Bronson asked. But who would want Lara dead?

I think someone wants Lara dead but I don’t know why yet. But I intend to find out. I’ll want Jessica to ride Lara’s shadow for awhile—unless you have a better plan, Mr. Hardesty expounded.

No, Bronson agreed, and I think Lara can work with me for the next few weeks, if you don’t mind.

That sounds like a good idea, said Mr. Hardesty. Communications’ Mr. Hardesty hollered again.

Communications, Aye, replied a voice.

Please contact the parents of Amy Gleeson and have them report to me in satellite number six. Tell them there has been a terrible accident, Mr. Hardesty said.

Communications, Aye answered the voice, anyone else while I’m still on the line?

Yes, thank you communications, after you notify the Gleesons, call Cryogenics. I’ll want two men to report here to satellite six as well. Tell them they have a package to carry back with them.

I’ll get right on it. Communications out, the voice responded.

Bronson, instructed Mr. Hardesty, perhaps you can find something here in which we could use to obtain some fingerprints. Start with Amy’s but don’t forget yourself, Lara’s, and mine too. They may prove to be useful in the next few days.

I can see that you have some kind of a plan developed already. I’d like to be counted in on that if you don’t object, said Bronson.

Eh, I don’t have all the details worked out in my mind yet, Bronson, but when I do, you’ll be one of the first to know about it, Douglas said.

Thank you, said Bronson. I’ll get to work on those fingerprints.

Lara burst back into the room. Medical is on their way. Should be here in a few minutes.

"Thank you, Lara. One more thing, if you would please, that drink cup of yours do you think you could put it into some kind of container, something that’s spill proof?

I want to safeguard the contents of the cup plus any marks or fingerprints that may be on the outside of the cup. And your dad will be collecting fingerprints from us as well.

I want to see if there are any prints on that cup that shouldn’t be there," Mr. Hardesty instructed.

I have just the thing for that cup, Lara said and went to locate a large plastic container that sealed at the top. Lara placed the cup into the container and showed it to Mr. Hardesty. How’s this? she asked. She held it up so that he could see what she had.

Perfect! he said. Give that to medical when they arrive, I want the cup’s contents analyzed.

You think there may be something in the cup that’s not supposed to be there? Lara asked.

I think there is a strong possibility that your cup contains a deadly poison, he said and he stared Lara directly in the eyes when he said that.

Why would anyone want to kill me? she asked.

Let’s just say that I doubt very seriously that poor Amy was the intended victim here, not if the poison is in your cup. Can you think of anyone who may have threatened you, someone you work with, or someone in this facility? Mr. Hardesty asked.

No! Wait, let me think a moment I have heard some scuttlebutt about the submarine, that lots of people don’t consider it safe around our city. But, geez, it’s not like I brought it here, the ocean’s own current did that, Lara answered.

Well, we are going to get to the bottom of this, but not today. We’ll need a professional investigator for this and I know just where to find one; someone from the past who owes me a favor. I just need to persuade her to come here, he said.

The past? May I come with you? I’ve always wanted to see what it looks like, Lara said.

Mr. Hardesty considered Lara’s request for a moment before he answered. Then he grinned a huge grin and replied: I think I can arrange that. BUT! he added, there will be no slipping away to see your ancient grandfather, no matter how great he was. You must promise you won’t violate the time paradox law, it could have devastating repercussions. We’ll be there only twenty-four hours.

When will we be leaving? Lara asked.

Tomorrow morning EARLY, He answered.

Will I need to take anything? she asked.

Probably not but I’ll let you know later today.

Bronson returned with a thin sheet of a very smooth metal, probably Titanium. The surface was absolutely clean of any residue. Will this work for prints? he asked.

I think that will be perfect, Douglas said. Lara, your dad is collecting fingerprints, why don’t you assist him in doing just that. Here, start with mine right up in this corner. Mr. Hardesty placed his fingers, one at a time in the upper corner of the metal. A clean set of his prints were visible on the metal. Now yours Lara, he suggested. Lara complied and left a pristine set of prints.

Amy’s next, Bronson suggested and he got down next to her body on the floor. Lara joined him on the floor and the two of them managed to secure Amy’s prints right in the middle of the sheet of metal. That just leaves me, Bronson said and he placed one finger at a time right next to Amy’s. How’s that look? he asked.

Looks fine to me, Douglas assured him.

The door to the office opened and allowed Jessica to enter. I was in Robotics when I got a call. What’s going on in here? Jessica looked around and saw Amy lying on the floor. Is Amy injured? she asked.

Not exactly, Mr. Hardesty answered, she’s dead!

Dead, Sir? Jessica asked. I don’t understand. We don’t have dead people here, it’s not allowed.

It appears that Amy was murdered, Mr. Hardesty clarified, but we think that Lara was the intended victim and that Amy just got caught in the middle. Is your schedule free for the next week or so? he asked.

If it’s not, I’ll make it so. What do you have in mind? Jessica asked.

For starters, I want you to look around this room, record everything you see, we’ll play it back later. Can you do that? he asked.

Yes, of course, sound too?

Good idea, we might need that as well, he agreed. Then, I’d like for you to hang around with Lara for some time but not tomorrow, she’ll be with me.

Then you think that Lara is still in danger! It was not a question but a statement of fact.

Until we can rule this death a homicide, suicide, or freak accident, I’d rather not take any chances. Understand? he asked.

Yes Sir, I understand. How are you going to rule on the death? Jessica asked.

"I’ll be making a trip in the morning, accompanied by

Lara, to a place in time where I know I can find the person that is perfect for the job; a qualified investigator."

You’re going after Tim McCord? Jessica asked.

Mr. Hardesty gave Jessica a sharp look that said, ‘don’t ask too many questions,’ but he answered her anyway

All things considered, he said, I also know the second best investigator, and it’s her that I want.

Oh, Lisa Chan. Good choice, Jessica said. This should be interesting.

Lara witnessed all those awkward stares from Mr. Hardesty. She hated to interrupt but she just had to in this instance. Who’s Lisa Chan?

You’ll find out in the morning, my dear. Now, Miss Parker, if you please, he said, record!

I’m on it, she said and went about the room to record anything and everything that seemed not quite right. She visited every nook and cranny in the entire section and recorded any sounds that came from places in which there were no people. When she finished, Medical was there taking a blood sample from Amy’s arm. Good idea, she thought. If there’s any poison in Amy’s blood, it’ll show up in the blood test.

Amy’s parents showed up a few minutes later. They wanted to know what had happened. Communications had said there had been an accident, where was Amy? Mr. Hardesty ushered everyone out of the room except for the Medical Unit and he explained to the parents what they knew so far Crying could be heard for some time and Mr. Hardesty let them mourn the death of their daughter for awhile, waiting for the Cryogenics Technicians to show up. It wasn’t long till they showed up either and were ready to relocate the body to their lab for storage. Mr. Hardesty explained to Amy’s parents the need to store the body. It was necessary to conduct a criminal investigation if warranted. Tissue samples may be needed as well.

With permission granted from the parents, the men carted Amy’s body to the Cryogenics Lab.

Lara handed over the now protected drink cup to the Medical Unit and issued instructions for the contents to be analyzed as soon as possible. Poison is suspected, so please check for all known toxic substances. Finally, everyone was gone except for Mr. Hardesty, Lara, Lara’s father, and Jessica Parker.

Were you able to record the area, Jessica? Mr. Hardesty asked.

Yes Sir. Give me thirty minutes to organize it all and it’ll be ready for you to analyze, Jessica answered.

Mr. Hardesty thought about that for a moment. No, you hang on to whatever you have; I’d like to get Miss Chan on board to look at what you have.

It’ll be ready whenever you need it, Jessica said.

I’ll be taking Lara along with me in the morning, with your permission, Mr. McCord. I think she’ll be very useful in persuading Miss Chan to come, said Douglas.

Of course, and I wish you best of luck. Have you considered what a culture shock our world will be for her? And what would you have me do with this piece of metal?

"Miss Chan has been in numerous countries during her life, I doubt that our world will surprise her too much.

If it does, well, she is nothing if not adaptable. Lara, do you suppose you can find another container to store this piece of metal in."

I’ll be right back, she said and disappeared into an adjacent office but momentarily, returning with another sealed container large enough to store the piece of metal for some time.

Bronson carefully fitted the metal into the container and snapped the lid in place. Now what? he asked.

Why don’t you hold on to that evidence while we’re gone, Mr. Hardesty said, and I’ll let Lisa Chan take it from you then.

You mean assuming she comes at all, Bronson said.

She owes me, Douglas said, she’ll come.

What about today? Lara asked. What would you have me do today?

Today? I think today you’ll be hanging around with Miss Parker. She will be your official body guard for the time. But for now, let’s get out of here, Douglas said, it smells like death in here.

Everyone had gone. Well, everyone except the killer, of course. The killer had remained well hidden, silently watching as the situation dictated. Unseen and unheard by anyone, anyone except maybe thac protectorate girl and the killer doubted that she was any kind of threat. So, after remaining hidden for an additional ten minutes, the killer crept silently out and down the hallway, leaving satellite number six as cautiously as could be. Well, I got away with it, the killer mumbled. But perhaps they had not figured on the Chinese connection.

THREE In The Nick Of Time

The only thing in common between Tran-Atlantic City in the year 2145 A.D. and Brigantine, New Jersey in the year 1940 was, they both observed the same day of the week simultaneously. The fact that two hundred and five years separated the two cities in real time was completely irrelevant.

Mr. Hardesty had scheduled this trip back to 1940 for Saturday morning. That was this morning. The field would depart his time on schedule, a quarter past five in the morning and it was nearly time to depart.

Mr. Hardesty had acquired quite some experience over the years traveling through both time and space and had discovered several periods in the past that had very much appeal for him. He had even decided to reside for some time in a few of them. Some of his best trips, however, were to New Jersey where, just last year, a girl detective from China had finally located a long-lost brother of his, and had enjoyed a short family re-union with his younger brother and nephew. The girl from China was, of course, Lisa Chan, grand-daughter of the world famous Charlie Chan.

Charlie Chan had been the premiere deductive investigator of his time. Mr. Hardesty had secretly invited Miss Chan into the United States through a relative of his living in Great Britain. Miss Chan had proved herself to be relentless, daring, smart, and also possessed a great imagination. Mr. Hardesty figured she was perfect for the job he would offer her. And it was Miss Chan that he intended to visit first on this trip.

Lisa had to be Mr. Hardesty’s second choice of investigators for this mission. Tim McCord would have been his first choice, but conditions in his own time would not permit his presence at the moment. He had relatives there. Tim McCord was good, oh, he was very good. Had it not been for Bronson McCord and his daughter Lara, Mr. Hardesty would have asked him right away. Tim placed a great deal of respect in gut-feelings, which were almost always correct.

And he had the gift of paying attention to details that many other investigators missed. How unfortunate that Tim would not be afforded the trip at this time. Mr. Hardesty could not take the chance of a violation within the Space/ Time Continuum, a chance encounter with one of Tim’s future relatives could destroy their worlds.

It was uncertain as yet whether Lisa would accept the case that Mr. Hardesty proposed. Mr. Hardesty had presented Lisa with several objects just last year which tied her and her mother together and Mr. Hardesty felt that Lisa would be so grateful, that she would jump at the chance to repay the debt.

It was nearly time to depart. For many first-time travelers, the event could be so awe-inspiring as to leave them speechless for several minutes afterwards. Douglas was no longer affected by the spectacle, no, he was just along for the ride which would take less time than a few seconds to complete. He had once explained to Tim, Doc, Steven, and Donald Watson, that despite Mr. Einstein’s insistence that time travel was not possible, a child-genius from the future had proven him wrong. Professor Einstein had figured only on three dimensions: height, width, and depth. But the child genius suspected that one more was required to make it work: time itself! And he was right. Once the fourth dimension was added to the mix, time travel became possible. Yes, it was dangerous at first, there were rules to learn, rules to follow, or accidents occurred.

And so they did at first, when certain precautions were taken, the accidents stopped, and now, Mr. Hardesty described time travel as child’s play, a mere manipulation of the space/time continuum. But where they