A BEGINNER'S GUIDE TO TIME TRAVEL

A NaNoWriMo project

This is the start of my second chapter. I don’t know if I’ll be able to finish this by the end of the month, so I might go over a little. It was my brother’s birthday, so my oldest brother came to stay with me. I took him to the airport yesterday. Today, I had to drop off my retirement papers, and that took a while. So now I’ve got my retirement set up for January. After 45 years in the same place, I’m more than happy to move on to bigger and better things.

Photo by Alaksiej Čarankievič on Unsplash

  CHAPTER 2

We both agreed that all three of us should be there when we opened the trunk. Bobby said he’d try and get hold of Jimmy and tell him to meet us at the storage locker next week. I didn’t want to wait another week, but Bobby said it was too short notice for Jimmy, and I agreed—but reluctantly.

“You can’t just phone him and tell him we’re coming over to pick him up, or that we’re going to open Dad’s trunk,” Bobby laughed. “There’s more to it than that,” he smiled

There always is, I thought.

“We have to break it to him easy; Jimmy’s had more traumatic, or maybe I should say, terrorizing, memories about the bracelet, than you and me.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“He touched it once and…it moved in his hands—like it was alive. He said it tried to grab his hand and wrap itself around his arm. I never saw it. Dad was in the bath when it happened. He never wore it in the tub for some reason. But he touched it on a dare. I never did pay him for it,” Bobby laughed, but then, Jimmy didn’t remind him either, he added.

“You ever touch it?” I asked, and he shook his head before I could even finish asking him.

“Not after he told me that. I didn’t want to. It was freaky enough seeing Dad wear it after that. I mean, it didn’t look like anything other than a stupid bracelet. But it was just thinking that maybe the thing was alive that freaked me out.”

“I saw it move once,” I said. “It was on his wrist.”

Bobby looked at me with renewed interest.

“It moved?”

Now it was my turn to nod.

“You guys are making too much out of this,” Jen said, heaving herself up and out of the lawn chair she was sitting in. “I gotta go in and get dinner started. But I remember that bracelet, and from what I remember, it was just a bracelet. You say you saw it move? Like maybe it was alive? As if,” she said, looking at me with a smile. “It was probably just a trick of the light. Watches shine when the light hits them. All jewellery shines in the light. It shimmers, too,” she smiled again, only this time it felt as if she was laughing at me.

“Do you think your opinion matters?” Bobby said. “You don’t know fuck all about anything of this. If you don’t know what you’re  talking about, why are you talking?” Bobby asked. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

Jen didn’t seem upset about anything he said. For one thing, we were sitting outside. I thought, there’s more going on here than I want to know, or get in the middle of. Though you never can tell what’s going on in someone’s mind, I think Jen took it with a grain of salt. You might say something you think is humorous, but the person listening to you is offended because they don’t think it’s as funny as you do. That’s Political Correctness rearing its ugly head. Humour should never suffer at the hands of the PC, but then, if that was Bobby’s idea of humour, he had a lot to work on.

“You’re not going to kill him off in his sleep before next week, are ya Jen?” I asked with a flippant wave of my hands as she left.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?” she said.

“No thanks. I’ve tasted your cooking before.”

“You’re so special,” she laughed. “See you next weekend.”

Now does that sound like someone who wants to kill herself as well as her husband and kids?

  *

Three days later, I got a phone call; it was well after midnight. The first thing I thought was that something happened to Dad. He’s probably fallen and broken his hip. He was getting up there in age and had never been one to take care of himself, I reminded myself. He used to smoke filterless cigarettes and drank a six pack of beer every night. His diet wasn’t the best either, with lots of fat and carbs, and not a lot of protein. Putting him in a home was probably the best thing we could have done for him. At least we knew he wouldn’t be smoking and drinking anymore. Sure, he’d sometimes bum a smoke off one of the night shift cleaning staff once in a while—and no one seemed to mind—but there was always a phone call the next morning telling me he was breaking the rules again.

I looked at the clock radio on the night stand as I reached for the phone.

“Hello?”

“Is this Richard Somerville?” It was a man’s voice I didn’t recognize.

“Yes? Look, unless my father just died, can’t this wait until morning? I mean, it’s after midnight and I have to get up in a couple of hours. I’m sure whatever my dad’s done—”

“Mr. Somerville? Please? We’re sending a car over—”

“A car? For what?”

“Are you at 224 Denman? Apartment six?”

“Who is this?” I asked, sitting up and rubbing my eyes.

“Oh…This is the Densmore County Sherif’s Department. I’m sorry, I should’ve informed you as soon as you answered. I’m not very good at this sort of thing.”

“Densmore? Why would the Densmore County Sherif’s Department be calling me after midnight in the middle of the week? I live in Ames.”

“Please, sir. There’ll be a car outside, inside of fifteen minutes. That didn’t come out right.”

“What for?”

“I’m not at liberty to say at the moment—”

“I don’t think you understand the meaning of the word liberty, Officer.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I wish I could tell you what this is all about, but I just can’t.”

“Not even a hint?” I said.

The line was quiet for a moment, and then: “Maybe you should get dressed?”

I put on a pot of coffee and went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and rinse myself with a cold, damp cloth. I was starting to wake up. Dad’s care home wasn’t in Densmore County. Bobby lived in Densmore County. The only reason the County Sheriff’s office is going to phone you in the middle of the night is because something bad has happened.

By the time the officer was knocking at my door, I was dressed and ready to leave. I opened the door before the poor woman had a chance to even take her hat off and tuck it under her arm. She was holding a file folder, and looked up when I opened the door at the same time she knocked. She was short, and had short blonde hair cut regulation style like a man would wear. She was pretty enough, but that didn’t seem to matter at the moment.

“Richard Somerville?” she asked.

I stood at the door for a moment before I said yes, and stepped aside to let her in. She took a deep breath before coming in, closing the door behind her.

“Don’t you people usually travel in pairs?” I asked.

“There’s just me tonight,” she said, putting the folder on the counter.

“Just tell me what the fuck happened,” I said, pouring a cup of coffee. I grabbed a second mug and filled it, giving it to her without even asking her if she wanted it. She seemed grateful enough to take it all the same.

“Maybe you should sit down?”

“Why don’t you just tell me what happened?” I said.

“It’s your brother.”

“You mean Bobby? Yeah. He lives in Densmore County. That’s what the cop on the phone said, that he was calling from the Densmore County Sheriff’s Department. I wasn’t quite awake so it took a while for it to click in. Is that what this is about? Bobby? What happened? Is he alright?”

“There’s no other way of putting this,” she said, placing her mug of coffee on the counter, and picking up the file. “Your brother, and his family, they’re, I mean, there’s been a…they’ve been killed.”

“What?”

I was stunned by the whole idea of it, and half fell, half sunk into the couch. I guess I looked like I needed help, because she dropped the file back down on the counter and was at my side, taking hold of my arm and guiding me down. I didn’t pay any attention to her, just felt the emotion welling up inside of me and bursting out. I looked up at her with tears in my eyes, unable to speak. Before I knew it she was kneeling down in front of me, holding my hands and looking me in the eyes. For some strange reason, I thought that has to be against protocol.

“What happened?” I managed to croak out after a moment.

“I think it was a home invasion,” she said softly. I could see tears in her eyes and wondered why they’d send someone like her out to break the news to me. Did she draw the short straw, or something? She was far too young and inexperienced for something like this , I thought.

“A home invasion? Are you kidding? Did you see where they live?” I half laughed. “Why would someone break into a home that far out in farm country?”

“I’m told that’s the way it looks like,” she said.

“What about the kids?”

“The whole family, from what I understand,” she said, and then stood up again, wiping her tears with her hands and reaching for her coffee mug. “I’m sorry. I’m not very good at this sort of thing,” she said, taking a sip.

“That’s what the guy on the phone said, too.”

“We don’t get this sort of thing out there—certainly not anything like this before. If there’s a homicide, it’s usually some guy that’s pissed at his wife, or a girlfriend. Pretty simple stuff. But they’re telling me there’s nothing there for us to go on.”

“What do you mean there’s nothing there to go on? Weren’t you there?”

“I was out on patrol. I didn’t take the call. That’s why they told me to come here. All I know is there’s no physical evidence they can see.”

“No physical evidence? I don’t understand. There has to be something. Who called it in?”
“I don’t know. I’m hearing that it’s like whoever did it, just showed up in the house and left the same way they came in. We just can’t see how they got in in the first place.”

“I don’t follow you.”

“Well, how’d they get there? They’d have to drive. You yourself said the house is so far off the beaten track, you’d have to drive there.I haven’t been to your brother’s place, but I know the area. So yeah, you’re right about that. There’s no other way to get there. But I’m told they can’t see any tire tracks. Fresh ones, I mean. Or footprints, either. There’s dirt outside. If they came in the house from outside, there’d have to be trace evidence. Mud, dirt, that sort of thing—even pollen—except for it being this late in the year. So, where’d they come from?”

“What about hairs and fibres, that sort of thing? They must’ve checked for that? I mean, they’d have to CSI the shit out of the place.”

“Nothing.”

“So what’s the story then? Was it the Boogey Man? What are they going to tell the morning news when they ask? My god! What about Jimmy? Did any of you  think to call Jimmy?”

“Who’s Jimmy?”
“My other brother.”

“I don’t know anything about that, so I can’t tell you if they’ve been able to get hold of him, or not.”

“I’ll call him,” I said, reaching for the phone. I hit the number for his speed dial, but it just kept ringing. No one answered. “He’s not answering.”

“I’ll get someone to check it out.”

“Jesus, it’s almost three in the morning. Why isn’t he answering?”

“Maybe he’s staying with a friend?”

“A friend?” I said, shaking my head as I thought about it. “No. You mean like a girlfriend? That sort of friend?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“I guess not. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know if he has a girlfriend?”

“He did. But they broke up about three years ago.”

“And he hasn’t had one since?”

“It’s complicated. Isn’t that what they say now-a-days?”

“If you’re on social media.”

“He’s not on social media.”

“No? I thought everyone was on social media.”

“Well, he’s not, okay?”

“I’ll get someone to check it out all the same,” she said, and pulling out her phone sent a text. She waited for a reply and then texted something else. Another reply.

“They’re telling me they need you to ID the bodies.”

“What? Why? They know who they are.”

“It’s for the coroner’s office. They need a family member to make an official ID. We can’t get hold of your brother. I can drive you there and bring you back. It’s no trouble. You really shouldn’t be driving under the circumstances.”

I stood up, grabbing my coffee cup off the table and walked to the counter. I grabbed her cup and put them both in the sink, rinsing them. I looked at the folder on the counter.

“What’s that?”

“Some sort of info packet they told me to pick up on the way out here. I’ll put my card in it so you can contact me if you need to talk.”

“Why would I need to talk to you?”

“It’s part of the grieving process. People tend to shut themselves off, sometimes. Some people get depressed; some try to do things.”

“Do things? You mean, like kill themselves?”

“It’s been known to happen. This just the department’s way of saying we care.”

“Except, the Department is in Densmore County and I live here in Ames. So why didn’t you just ask the Ames Sheriff’s Department to break the news? Why send you all the way out here?”

“I volunteered.”

“I’ll get my shoes.”