The What If Project

By Rick Perry

Jack Mayland has spent a lifetime asking himself the same question over and over. What if? What if his little sister had not died as a child? What if his parents had not divorced after the incident? What if the entire course of his life had not been derailed by that one tragic accident? And what if there was a way to change it all and get his life back on track.

A chance encounter with the brilliant and controversial psychologist Dr. Jennifer Melton gives him hope he may finally get some answers. The doctor has plenty of regrets about her own life, but she believes she has discovered a way to travel back into one's own past and change a single event causing a ripple effect that can alter the present.

Jack agrees to participate in the study, but after several failed attempts, he begins to have doubts about the whole project. A new relationship with the doctor's enigmatic assistant Rebecca, gives rise to a whole new set of questions. What if it's all an illusion, a trick of some kind? What if the doctor is just manipulating him, using him for her own selfish reasons? What if the past really can't be changed at all?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rick Perry
• Release date: Nov 30, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386058991

Book preview

Chapter One

I DREAMED OF KATIE last night. It was the old familiar dream, the good one, with the new bicycle draped in the huge red ribbon and bow. Behind it our old kitchen table, elaborately decorated, at its center the cake with six candles glowing softly. In my dreams, she is always six. Blond-haired, blue-eyed, snaggle-toothed, but smiling, laughing, a beautiful child full of life. And then gone.

JACKSON MAYLAND PUT aside the spiral notebook with its twisted wire binding, the one that already snagged and torn two different shirts and left a long ugly scratch on the inside of one arm. It was all he had found in the back of the closet when he had gone looking for some form of blank paper that would serve his purpose. He had not written in a journal in several years, more years by far than he cared to remember. Long ago, he had developed the habit and wrote daily as suggested by a therapist who had treated him for a nasty case of depression. Therapy had helped. So had the pills, but when the insurance ran out, he lost both. But not the depression.

Of course, he was depressed. In the mirror, each day, he saw a tall, bearded man with straggly hair and deep-set, green eyes. Slight of build, but stronger than he looked, he was in better shape than most of his contemporaries, many of whom pursued fitness with more passion than he exhibited in anything. At thirty-two, he worked part-time at the local community college, mostly nights, with no benefits and no real prospects for the future. As a high school dropout with limited skills, he was glad to have the job at all. Officially, he was a Custodial/Maintenance Tech II. It sounded better than saying he emptied trash cans for minimum wage, but what the hell. Nobody felt sorry for an uneducated baboon doing menial labor. He had a few so-called friends at work. Non-judgmental types whose ambition matched his own. It could be worse.  It could be raining, he thought, picturing a favorite movie scene from long ago.

When he was eight years old, his little sister had been killed in an accident that had shocked the small community where he lived and plunged his family into a spiraling descent that had led him all the way to his current life. He wondered often about her death and the days and years that had followed. How different would his life have turned out were it not for that one day? He loved his sister and had only fond memories of her. He never blamed her for his life or the choices he had made, but still he found himself frequently dreaming of the life that could have been if she had not died that day.

When he allowed himself to think about his past, he inevitably drove himself crazy pondering the chain of bad links that followed. If Katie had not died, his parents would not have divorced. If his parents had not divorced, he would not have left the comfortable confines of the private school for the local public school. If he had not been forced to withdraw from the private school, he would have surely continued to excel academically, perhaps leading toward a graduation with honors. Maybe he would have followed in his father’s footsteps and become a lawyer, instead of dropping out. Maybe he wouldn’t have ended up with a career in sanitation. Maybe.

But in all honesty, he couldn’t blame Katie for the mess he had made of his life. He just spent way too much time thinking about it. And wishing that somehow he could change the past, knowing full well that he couldn’t. Again, no wonder he was depressed.

But life goes on, as he reminded himself frequently. He left his small, cramped, one bedroom apartment and began the mile and a half walk to work. His last vehicle had crapped out months ago and he didn’t have the funds to replace it. An acquaintance at work had offered him a loan, but he refused it. He thought of his father’s words regarding debt and how he had railed against it as a trap that ensnared those foolish enough to dream beyond their means. Besides, it was easier to feel sorry for himself without the car. On the bright side, the physical exercise helped with the depression and gave him the time to mentally prepare for the work and the drudgery that lay ahead. Going home was worse, but he slept well after the walk and his money lasted longer with no car payment to make or gas to buy.

He strolled leisurely, taking his time, before arriving at the small, but beautifully landscaped campus. Despite its appearance, Clarke Community College was a joke in the educational field, but Jack didn’t care. The reputation of the school was of no concern to him. It was just a job anyway. As an employee, he had access to a greatly reduced tuition program, but he had little use for the limited course options available. At first, he did take advantage of the opportunity to audit classes for free, but he soon bored of the professors, most of whom did not appreciate having the night janitor sitting among the real students. He still occasionally took in a poetry class taught by a semi-attractive redhead who had flirted with him once or twice, even though she would not go out with him when he had asked. He liked poetry. And redheads.

Although, light maintenance was in his job description, he rarely did more than tighten loose screws in doorframes and bookcases. Anything requiring a work order was immediately sent to the actual maintenance crew who generally fouled up the job leading to the eventual replacement of whatever piece of furniture or equipment had been completely broken by the incompetents on the maintenance payroll. Jack was good with his hands and had fixed several things around the campus until he had been caught and told to stop. So, mostly, he emptied trash cans and watched the clock. To say that he was overqualified for the position would not be an understatement.

He was a little tired tonight, but at least it was Friday, he thought. He clocked in early and found a note in his box with an extra chore to be done that evening. Generally, he worked unsupervised cleaning the same set of classrooms and hallways each night. Gerald, his boss, was a Tech III which basically meant some supervisory responsibilities and less actual work. A note from Gerald was usually a good thing as it meant a break from the usual routine. This one seemed easy enough. Pick up some books from an office in the Psychology building and set up a display table by the main lecture hall. Piece of cake.

The campus was not very large and the offices, although not part of his usual schedule, were not hard to find. He located the books, loaded them on a dolly, and wheeled them to the back of the hall. Several of the other night crew were rearranging seats and waved at Jack when he entered. An easel with a large promo poster was set near a table where the books were to be displayed. Jack had seen a smaller version of the poster around campus, but had not taken the time to read anything beyond the name, Dr. Jennifer Melton, PhD. The name wasn’t familiar, and he honestly couldn’t say that he had ever laid eyes on her before. Probably because he so actively avoided the Psychology Department. Too many bad memories from his adolescence.

Unpacking the books, Jack couldn’t help but be curious. The title of the book seemed interesting, Going Backward, Going Forward, but the short quote on the back was what really caught his attention. What if you could go back in time and change one thing from your past? His heartbeat quickened at the very thought. He knew his answer to that question – he would do anything for the chance to go back. And he knew exactly what one thing he would change if he could.

He unpacked the boxes and arranged the books in a pleasing way, keeping a single copy back. He stored the dolly and the empty cartons and made note of the time for the lecture. Saturday night. That meant they didn’t expect much of a crowd. He would do a little reading and maybe catch a bit of the lecture if possible. A junior college professor with a book on time travel. That should be worth a few laughs.

The next few hours passed quickly. He finished his cleaning rounds for the night and found himself back in the lecture hall studying the face displayed before him. The woman on the poster had straight dark hair, cut shoulder length, little round John Lennon glasses, and searing, intense eyes. Jack found her not necessarily pretty, but attractive in a somewhat sterile, professional way. Whatever he thought of her looks, he knew that he would definitely be there tomorrow for her presentation. In and around his light duties, he had found the time to peruse the book, but he still wasn’t sure what to think. Parts of the book read like stereo instructions, other parts like a math textbook, and still others like a fantasy novel. Maybe she could explain it more clearly than she had written it. He certainly hoped so.

The walk home was slow and uneventful. He stopped to pick up a six pack, but resisted the temptation to buy a lottery ticket. A tax on the ignorant, his Dad had always said. He had a beer and then another before falling asleep watching an old horror flick. Again, he dreamed of Katie, but this time it was the bad one.

IT STARTS THE SAME as the good dream. Katie squealing in delight when she sees the new bicycle. She had asked for it before, expected it at Christmas, but had to wait until her birthday. The big red ribbon tangles in the chain when she pulls it, but Dad has a pair of scissors handy to cut it loose. Mom is of course, behind the camera recording everything for future posterity, not realizing how many of the film rolls will end up in a mason jar never to be developed or seen by anyone. I stand in the back, desirous of cake, but bored by the rest. My friend Eddy has a new dog and more than anything I want the party to end so that I can go. Seven little girls sing Happy Birthday and everyone is smiling. Mom and Dad hug in the background and life is grand. The good dream ends here. Last night it kept going. Katie stops smiling. Beneath her blond curls a single drop of red appears and trails down her cheek. Another drop appears and another and soon her entire face is streaked with blood. Mom begins to cry and Dad starts yelling at Katie telling her over and over that she wasn’t supposed to ride that damn bicycle in the rain. The other girls are wiping their hands on Katie’s face and then trying to dry their hands on their party dresses. Katie begins to cry and I slip out the back and leave the house.

WHEN HE WOKE, JACK was shaking all over. Like always when he has the bad dream.

Chapter Two

SATURDAYS WERE EASY days for Jack. Most of the campus wasn’t in use, so only he and Gerald worked the night shift. Gerald mostly hung out in the commons area looking for any pretty young co-eds who happened to be around. Jack cleaned the few classrooms that had been used that day and kept his radio handy for the random emergencies Gerald would pass along to him. By 7:00 pm, he was sitting on the back row of the lecture hall waiting for the show to begin.

Earlier in the day, Jack had spent several hours scanning the book and wondering if any of this was possible. Time travel? Was this woman crazy? The book was difficult to read and highly technical in sections. The math and the science didn’t really interest him anyway. It wasn’t the how that mattered. The important question was whether it could be done at all.

Impatient, he thumbed through the book again. He had fully intended to put the book back on the display table when he arrived, but somehow he had managed to dog-ear a large number of pages, as well as write notes in the margins in several places. He hated to think of himself as a thief, but he couldn’t see himself returning the volume in its present condition or shelling out the money for a brand new hardback book.

The head of the department stepped to the microphone at the front of the hall, tapped it loudly, and leaned in to insure a screech of feedback. Not a frequent speaker, he relied on note cards to produce a generic introduction that lasted too long and contained nothing of real interest to Jack. Finally, he got out of the way and Dr. Melton stepped to the podium. Jack decided quickly that she was not that attractive in a physical way, but engaging nonetheless. She was thinner than he had imagined and maybe slightly older, but she had a pleasant voice and spoke with obvious enthusiasm, much more so than in her writing. He was impressed by her immediately and listened closely so as to not miss anything she had to say.

When the mild, polite applause had faded, she had taken the microphone from its stand and walked to the front of the stage to begin. In a large room with a seating capacity of 200, Jack estimated about 50 scattered students and her opening remarks had put them at ease. Her tone was conversational and she seemed very genuine.

First let me say thank you for coming out on a Saturday night to listen to some woman trying to sell books. I know that these things are like free date nights on campus, but I’m sure you’d rather they had just shown some old movie instead of having me giving a boring lecture, but here I am. I understand that those of you in the psychology department are getting extra credit for being here and that always helps, am I right?

She continued. Anyway, as of next week, I am joining the faculty here at CCC and will be teaching a few classes, as well as offering some professional services, and continuing my research and experimentation in the field of Regression Therapy. On the personal side, I was married for many years to a mathematician who is responsible for some of the more unreadable chapters in my book and who will soon be my ex-husband, but enough about me. Let’s start with a question. The big one. What if you could go back in time and change one thing from your past? She paused and in the silence, the radio at Jack’s side squawked loudly.

He moved quickly to the nearest exit, aware of the stares. Mostly, he was struck by the slight smile from the speaker as she caught his eye. F**king Gerald! He hated to leave, but someone had puked in the recreation hall and Gerald didn’t do vomit. Jack pondered the question as he cleaned. He imagined the answers from the college kids, knowing their liberal leanings and lack of true experience in the world. Someone would proclaim that saving JFK from the assassin Lee Harvey Oswald would be his noble act of heroism. Some idiot history major would suggest going back to somehow stop Hitler. For Jack, those grandiose gestures seemed foolish. He knew exactly what he would do with a chance like that. If he could go back, it would be to save Katie. And