Read Online Time Flying by Dan Garmen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dan Garmen
Tags: Science-Fiction, Literature & Fiction, Military, Time travel, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Alternative History, alternate history, Space Fleet
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out of any kind of familiarity?
After dinner, my folks put Katie to bed and a short time later, turned in themselves, the house going quiet around me (though our house never really got loud). My thoughts turned to my experience in Belton, what? Two days ago? Two days ago and thirty years from now? How did meeting an old woman who told me I’d travel back to 1933 fit into all of this? Did my coming across a letter written several decades ago cause my current situation? Did some strange metaphysical interaction spawn this death or coma dream I seemed to be in, after getting smacked broadside by a big black Hummer in 2007 Cincinnati?
And what the hell was I going to do about Amanda Tully if I woke up here again in the morning? I wouldn't be able to avoid her forever and somehow, I knew what she called me about today. Her boyfriend, a buddy of mine since childhood, had a birthday coming up and I had agreed to help plan his surprise party. Amanda had asked me for my help because Steve Collins and I had been friends since elementary school, even though he was a year older than us. Steve, both friend and hero to me, provided the role model I'd always judged myself against. Smart, quiet, with long, black hair he, despite team rules, wore below his collar, Collins was a good basketball player. Unfortunately, in the past two years before 1976, his attitude toward me had turned dark, because I had become the better basketball player, bigger, stronger and even faster than him. I thought at the time (my first tour through 1976) the party was Amanda's way of trying to patch things up between us, but learned several years later it was more than that, much more. And this is where this whole thing gets complicated. I didn't understand Amanda's true intentions about me in 1976, but learned of them in 1990, and by 2007, I’d had 17 years to think about, digest and get bitter about them. The difference here, is I knew the whole thing NOW, had even come to a kind of peace about it, but now found myself right here in the middle of the situation all over again. I would handle things differently this time, but the prospect of doing so scared the hell out of me. Was I wise to act on the knowledge I have now, instead of doing exactly what I'd done the last time I went through these days? With one big exception, things had worked out pretty well the first time, after all. Was I prepared to mess with the past? Would the past even allow me to change it?
I stripped down to underwear, climbed into bed, still thinking through all the things I’d experienced today. My 17 year old body exhausted, I fell asleep almost instantly. Insomnia was a problem for the future. In 1976, for me at least, it didn’t exist.
When I arrived home from school the next day, I learned what I would later refer to this as “The Time Traveler’s Prime Directive,” never talk about the future unless you are willing to reveal you have traveled in time.
Dean and Betsy hadn’t gone to school that day, which I initially considered odd, but they were twins, so if one got sick, the other would, too. So, when they weren’t waiting for me by the El Camino the next morning, and their mother told me, from behind the screen door, they would not be going to school with me, I didn’t worry.
I pulled into the driveway just after 4pm to see both my parents were home, their cars parked in the usual places, not that unusual, since they were self-employed, but I felt a small twinge of unease, wondering if something was up.
I walked into the house through the front door, dropping the El Camino keys on the entryway table, and saw the formal living room was occupied. I cautiously walked toward the arched doorway leading to the room, and saw my parents sitting in the two chairs, separated by a lamp table, at a right angle to the sofa, which was occupied by a grim looking Mr. Sawyer, Dean and Betsy’s father, and another man sitting next to him, wearing a coat and tie, a leather
After dinner, my folks put Katie to bed and a short time later, turned in themselves, the house going quiet around me (though our house never really got loud). My thoughts turned to my experience in Belton, what? Two days ago? Two days ago and thirty years from now? How did meeting an old woman who told me I’d travel back to 1933 fit into all of this? Did my coming across a letter written several decades ago cause my current situation? Did some strange metaphysical interaction spawn this death or coma dream I seemed to be in, after getting smacked broadside by a big black Hummer in 2007 Cincinnati?
And what the hell was I going to do about Amanda Tully if I woke up here again in the morning? I wouldn't be able to avoid her forever and somehow, I knew what she called me about today. Her boyfriend, a buddy of mine since childhood, had a birthday coming up and I had agreed to help plan his surprise party. Amanda had asked me for my help because Steve Collins and I had been friends since elementary school, even though he was a year older than us. Steve, both friend and hero to me, provided the role model I'd always judged myself against. Smart, quiet, with long, black hair he, despite team rules, wore below his collar, Collins was a good basketball player. Unfortunately, in the past two years before 1976, his attitude toward me had turned dark, because I had become the better basketball player, bigger, stronger and even faster than him. I thought at the time (my first tour through 1976) the party was Amanda's way of trying to patch things up between us, but learned several years later it was more than that, much more. And this is where this whole thing gets complicated. I didn't understand Amanda's true intentions about me in 1976, but learned of them in 1990, and by 2007, I’d had 17 years to think about, digest and get bitter about them. The difference here, is I knew the whole thing NOW, had even come to a kind of peace about it, but now found myself right here in the middle of the situation all over again. I would handle things differently this time, but the prospect of doing so scared the hell out of me. Was I wise to act on the knowledge I have now, instead of doing exactly what I'd done the last time I went through these days? With one big exception, things had worked out pretty well the first time, after all. Was I prepared to mess with the past? Would the past even allow me to change it?
I stripped down to underwear, climbed into bed, still thinking through all the things I’d experienced today. My 17 year old body exhausted, I fell asleep almost instantly. Insomnia was a problem for the future. In 1976, for me at least, it didn’t exist.
When I arrived home from school the next day, I learned what I would later refer to this as “The Time Traveler’s Prime Directive,” never talk about the future unless you are willing to reveal you have traveled in time.
Dean and Betsy hadn’t gone to school that day, which I initially considered odd, but they were twins, so if one got sick, the other would, too. So, when they weren’t waiting for me by the El Camino the next morning, and their mother told me, from behind the screen door, they would not be going to school with me, I didn’t worry.
I pulled into the driveway just after 4pm to see both my parents were home, their cars parked in the usual places, not that unusual, since they were self-employed, but I felt a small twinge of unease, wondering if something was up.
I walked into the house through the front door, dropping the El Camino keys on the entryway table, and saw the formal living room was occupied. I cautiously walked toward the arched doorway leading to the room, and saw my parents sitting in the two chairs, separated by a lamp table, at a right angle to the sofa, which was occupied by a grim looking Mr. Sawyer, Dean and Betsy’s father, and another man sitting next to him, wearing a coat and tie, a leather
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