Time Split Page 3

  A few miles down the road she left the town behind and a short time later she joined a slip road leading to the motorway. As she reached the top of the incline she realised, for the time at least, her journey was over.

  A wall of thick black foul-smelling smoke moving in her direction formed an impenetrable barrier across the road.

  Reluctantly, Sarah returned to Morpeth vowing to try again when the way was clear.

  Four days later she had survived by forcing herself into a routine. Daily trips to gather water from the river and wood for the fireplace she’d found in the director’s office in the Town Hall had helped to maintain a hold on her sanity. It also gave her the opportunity to assess the damage caused to the surrounding environment.

  Footprints in the snow proved there were animals still alive. If they could survive, then so could she.

  A winter wonderland this was not as this snow was dirty, grey and gruesome. Dust and dirt thrown up from the ground, by the nuclear blast, mingled with freezing particles to produce snow.

  For two days the gloom never lifted and as Sarah looked out the window, she’d felt fear like she’d never felt before. Could this be the start of a nuclear winter? Life was hard enough as it was and there was no doubt it would get worse. The return of spring would at least bring hope; hope for a future; hope for new growth. The onset of a nuclear ice age would end all that. If the cycle of the seasons broke down, the repercussions would be devastating. She didn’t have to be an expert to know this.

  When she rose on the morning of the fourth day, Sarah gave thanks. The snow had stopped and the sun, although still shrouded behind a dense blanket of clouds, was at least trying to break through.

  She stepped outside the moment it was light, as she had every day since her return. She’d become accustomed to the foul, sooty smell that hung in the air like a thick fog, but this morning, she was delighted to find it was different. The air had cleared, scrubbed clean by the snow, and it was then she knew the fires were out.

  This was the moment she’d been waiting for. She would attempt her journey home again tomorrow. She knew, in her heart, there was little chance of her family being alive; still, she had to know for sure. Today would be busier than previously anticipated.

  Chapter Five

  Travelling into the past quickly became as controlled as travelling into the future. Jason found, with an additional formula which accounted for the rotational speed of the Earth, he could also control the exact positioning of the subject. He could now go anywhere and into any time zone – past, present or future – in the world.

  A full-scale model was built, which initially caused Jessica to titter. She described it as a high-tech shower cubicle, laughing at the prospect of someone being transported naked, soap in hand. Circular metal grills on the roof and floor, and computer attachments to the door revealed its more technical purpose.

  Several more successful experiments involving animals were completed, before Jason prepared to test the machine himself. A suitable experiment, he decided, would be to teleport two days into the future to the edge of a neighbouring village. There he would enter the local shop and purchase a newspaper dated that day.

  Jason could hear his heart in his ears as he carefully programmed the system. Excited or scared, he couldn’t decide. The programming complete, he stepped into the chamber, then initiated the sequence.

  An automatic countdown commenced. Two tones would sound. The first would warn he had five seconds before teleportation. This allowed him enough time to abort the experiment. The second would sound just before teleportation began. Once the sequence was complete, all systems would shut down automatically and only reactivate upon his recall. A backup battery was attached in case of electrical failure whilst he was away; this ensured enough power for reassembly.

  The first tone sounded.

  Jessica looked nervous.

  Jason smiled to reassure her.

  She smiled tensely back. She wanted to say something, but was afraid she would cry. If he was maimed or worse, killed or disappeared, how could she cope, she couldn’t live without him. She suppressed the thought; blew a kiss for good luck.

  The countdown continued, then the second tone sounded.

  For a fraction of a second, it seemed as if Jason was being tickled inside. A tingling sensation travelled through his muscles all the way to his bones. The entire experience happened in a blink. He barely registered the feeling before, suddenly, the basement was gone and he was standing on the edge of the woods, beside a road leading to the village of Woolsington.

  In an instant he’d been disassembled, transported as a plasma signature, and reassembled at another point in space and time. The only effects of his journey were breathlessness, because he held his breath at the point of initiation, and a brief feeling of disorientation.

  He blinked rapidly, squinting in the brightness of the day, for several seconds before his eyes adjusted. When he finally looked around he was delighted to discover he’d calculated his point of arrival precisely.

  Quickly, he joined the road and made his way into the village as normally as possible. The desire to run into Woolsington screaming was almost overwhelming, but secrecy and proof of success, he knew, were both paramount.

  It was a short way from the edge of the village to the newsagent. As he entered the shop and picked up a newspaper, Jason beamed in delight.

  The date in the top right-hand corner stated it was February 16th, two days after his departure.

  His excitement barely contained, he purchased the paper, then quickly left to hurry back to the woods.

  He had allowed plenty of time to complete his task, so had nearly an hour to wait before his recall. As he sat enjoying the sunshine, he mused over the possibility of coming to Woolsington on the 16th to watch himself buy the paper. He’d been so intent on hurrying in and out of the village, this hadn’t crossed his mind. He considered whether meeting yourself in another timeline could really cause instant annihilation. Suddenly, he shuddered as the hairs on his arms stood on end. Perhaps he wouldn’t do that after all.

  As he waited in the woods there were no tones, but Jason recognised the sensation. He was pleased when the tingle came – everything had gone perfectly – and he suddenly found himself back in the basement, paper in hand.

  Intense relief passed over Jessica’s face as she rushed forward to open the capsule before he could reach for the handle.

  “Well?” she prompted.

  He showed her the paper. She paused long enough to read the date, then screamed in delight and wrapped her arms around him.

  The following day Jessica was washing up the breakfast dishes. As Jason entered the kitchen he placed a bag down by the door.

  “Anything special?” she asked.

  He removed a jacket and trousers and held them for her to see.

  “What are they for?” She wrinkled her nose in disgust as the smell of old dust and mothballs wafted across the room towards her. “Pooh! They stink!” The dishes complete, she dried her hands, then turned to face him. “Where’d you get them?”

  “They just need a bit of airing.” He returned the clothes to the bag. “I’ve been thinking about our conversation the other night and decided you’re right. I could use the teleporter to help my mum.”

  “How?” Jessica now regretted ever suggesting such a thing, as curiosity rapidly gave way to alarm.

  “I’ll go back to Germany and make sure they get on a different ship.”

  “Wartime Germany! You must be mad!” She crossed the room towards him, panic raising her voice.

  He knew she wouldn’t be happy. “It was you who suggested it and they’re not actually at war at that point,” he replied calmly. “I thought the best time to step in would be the day after my grandfather and uncle were killed.”

  “The day after. Why not before?” She was intrigued, despite her reservations.

  “That would require too much interference. As it is, I’ll be saving the li
fe of my grandmother, a serious risk on its own. That’s one extra person milling around in history that shouldn’t be there. To increase that to three becomes unacceptable. Besides, if they hadn’t been killed, the family might have stayed in Germany and potentially they could’ve all wound up dead.”

  “Yes, I see.”

  “So, I thought if I go the day after to offer my condolences as a friend of my grandfather’s, they might be open to offers of help.”

  “And what if your interference wipes out your own existence? Your grandmother could decide to go somewhere else to live, then your father and mother would never meet.”

  “I’ve already thought of that. I’m going to arrange accommodation for them in Morpeth. Then hopefully my grandmother will decide to stay and my parents will meet as usual. Either way, it shouldn’t matter. If it doesn’t work, there’ll be no change. I’ll not be there to invent the time machine and the interference won’t occur in the first place.”

  Jessica’s voice lowered to almost a whisper. “And what if you’re killed whilst you’re away?”

  “Well, they’ll have a body they can’t identify. That is until it disappears when I’m recalled back here,” he said indelicately.

  Her face paled and eyes widened as the image of Jason’s dead body returning to the basement flashed through her mind.

  “I won’t go if it’ll upset you too much.” He could see her distress.

  She knew only too well once the teleporter was handed over to the military, it would be out of Jason’s hands for good. He would never have this chance again.

  “Just make sure you’re very careful,” she urged.

  Saturday afternoon was Jessica’s catch-up social time. To minimise her distress, Jason chose then to embark on his first journey into the past. He waited a further half an hour after she’d left to make sure she wouldn’t return unexpectedly, before changing into the jacket and trousers he’d purchased the previous week.

  He looked in the mirror. The shabby brown suit had obviously seen better days. Fraying around the lapels, pockets and cuffs, and the top two buttons which hung loosely on overstretched thread, revealed the suit’s long history. Looking good was not on the agenda. In fact, the less attention he drew to himself the better. It was acceptable at a passing glance; that would do for him.

  Programming the teleporter was now just a matter of routine and Jason no longer felt the need to check and double-check his calculations before initiating the sequence. Two hours, he decided, would be sufficient time to speak to his grandmother. He adjusted the power accordingly, then stepped into the chamber and waited for the cycle to begin.

  He was curious as to whether backward time travel would feel different from forward. He found it was the same. Once again there was a tingling sensation, then suddenly he found himself standing under the cover of darkness, on the outskirts of the German town of Havelberg.

  It took only 10 minutes to reach the town centre, but with the address and only a rough idea of the location, it took longer than he would have liked to find his grandmother’s house.

  The address he’d remembered from a conversation he’d had with his mother many years earlier. He’d ran it over and over in his mind, as it was the last they’d had before her fatal heart attack later that evening.

  She’d been depressed as the anniversary of her father and brother’s death approached. She was still tormented, despite the passing years, by the horror of seeing her father dead in a pool of blood at the bottom of the garden. A neighbour had eventually whisked her away from the scene, but even at the back of the house she’d been able to hear her brother’s agonising screams.

  A demonstration by Nazi storm troopers had erupted into violence.

  Her father had attempted to help an injured man in the street outside their home. A scuffle with a storm trooper ensued and her father was killed in the process.

  ‘Shot whilst trying to escape’ or ‘Shot whilst resisting arrest’. These were the common terms used to brush aside these murders.

  Her brother, only ten at the time, was also injured in the attack. He died in hospital that evening. Then a week later she found herself alone in the world when her mother was killed on the crossing to England.

  Jason paused at the gate as he realised the enormity of his next act. From this point on there would be no going back. From this point on he would have officially interfered. Then praying the German his mother had taught him as a child was good enough for this venture, he took a deep breath before slowly walking up the path to the house and ringing the bell.

  So it begins, he thought.

  He waited only a few seconds for the door to open, but when it did, it was just a crack.

  A woman peeked out.

  Jason smiled gently. Her caution was perfectly understandable and he wanted to appear as friendly and approachable as possible. “Is this the home of Lydia Kilnberg?”

  “Yes,” came a hushed reply.

  Jason could see the woman’s eyes investigating him, as she searched for evidence of his business. “Could I speak to Lydia, please?” he asked.

  “I’m Lydia Kilnberg,” the woman replied. She made no attempt to conceal her suspicion.

  “I was a friend of your husband. I’ve come to offer my condolences.”

  She opened the door a fraction more.

  When Jason saw her face fully for the first time, he fought to control his emotions. Mother and daughter looked exactly alike.

  “I was very sorry to hear of your loss,” he said, careful to steady his voice. He reached into his pocket and removed a photo of his grandparents together. “I know I’m a stranger and this may seem forward, but could I possibly come inside and talk?” He handed over the photograph.

  A gasp escaped her throat as she took the picture. Her eyes filled with tears which then, as she blinked, slowly trickled down the length of her cheek to pool beneath her chin.

  Jason was becoming nervous. She still made no attempt to invite him inside. He was beginning to think she might turn him away. Then she spoke.

  “This was taken on our wedding day,” she said, her voice tinged with emotion.

  “If I could possibly come inside and talk to you,” he persisted. “What I have to say is very important. It would be best said in private.”

  She remained fast and looked him full in the face. “How did you know my husband?”

  “Eckert saved my life when we fought together in the trenches during the war. We met up again recently when I returned to Havelberg. It was then he asked me if anything happened to him, would I make sure you were safe.”

  “How did you hear of their deaths?” she asked slowly, as the words caused her pain.

  Jason knew she was searching for a lie. “I work in the local hospital,” he replied, pleased he had anticipated the question.

  Satisfied with his explanation, she opened the door wide, checked the street, then beckoned him inside. As she shut the door behind them she visibly relaxed. “Come into the kitchen. I’ll make some tea.” She led the way to the back of the house.

  Jason sat at the table on a wobbly stool and scanned the room.

  It was very small and basic. There was an area below the sink for cooking equipment. A curtain on a wire acted in place of a door. There were two cupboards, on the wall to the right of the window, for food, but apart from that there was no other storage. The only other items were a mangle and a wash tub, which stood in the corner next to a stove. The stone floor and whitewashed walls gave the entire room a cold, sterile feel, but at least it was light. He had no doubt it was hygienic from what he’d heard of his grandmother.

  When the kettle boiled, Lydia removed it from the stove.

  Jason watched as she prepared the drinks in a teapot, with leaves and fine china cups.

  “Milk?”

  “Yes, please.”

  A young girl walked into the room; she obviously hadn’t heard the door. As she entered the kitchen she stopped and looked at Jason, alarmed.


  She was only seven years old, but he still recognised his mother.

  Large hazel eyes, already tinged with the horrors she’d witnessed, stared back as she tried to decide whether to be afraid or not.

  “It’s alright, Claudia,” Lydia reassured. She ushered the child across the kitchen. “Get some biscuits from the tin, please.”

  Moments later, a plate of homemade shortbreads was put on the table in front of Jason.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  The child never spoke and, refusing to meet his eyes, quickly returned to her mother.

  Lydia stroked her daughter’s hair, then bent to give her a kiss. “Go play in your room,” she suggested. She waited for Claudia to leave before finishing the teas. “She’s totally traumatised; terrified to go outside.” She passed Jason his drink.

  “Eckert told me he was worried about the increasing violence on the streets and the growing power of the Nazi Party,” Jason said. “Because of this he said he was considering leaving the country and moving to England.”

  “We’d recently considered emigrating,” she said, surprised, “and strangely enough, I was just thinking about it again this morning.”

  Jason breathed a silent sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure whether it’d been his grandmother’s idea to leave the country or if it had been discussed before. “When were you thinking of going?” he asked casually. He took a sip of tea.

  “As soon as possible. I’m terrified something will happen to Claudia. She’s all I have left in the world.” Lydia dropped her eyes. “I also can’t bear this house any longer, not without...” Her voice cracked with emotion and she suddenly went silent. She took a breath, composed herself, looked back to Jason and gave a tight smile. “I feel I can see and hear them everywhere,” she continued uncomfortably. “It breaks my heart to know they’re not coming back. It took ages to clean the blood off the garden path when we returned from the hospital. I had to do it, there and then. I couldn’t have walked past it a moment longer.”