Sandcastle for Pegasus Read online

  “I understand what you’re going through,” he said, “even though you don’t seem to at the moment. I will do my best to trace this to its origin and do everything in my power to make it right again.”

  John Rainbow then made a thorough search of the house and the attached garage. There were no other buildings on the property. He found nothing of interest, no equipment capable of causing a hole or a rip in time and no materials that could construct such machinery. He returned to the dining area where Mr. and Mrs. Barnes sat quietly, their hands folded together in front of them and placed on the table.

  “A few more questions,” John said. After all, he had to be thorough. “Do either of you have any knowledge of or even a vague interest in the concept of time travel?”

  They shook their heads.

  “Do you know anyone who does?”

  Again, they shook their heads.

  This time, however, a slight hesitation preceded the action. “To the best of your knowledge, have you answered my questions correctly and truthfully? Search your memory to be sure.”

  “Yes, sir,” they both answered, “the truth as we know it.”

  John thought the answer odd, though under the circumstances, nothing to note. However, the hesitation they had displayed in answering the second to the last question concerned him. Any parallel or fragmented memories could be trouble. He made one more pass through the house, paying particular attention to the bedrooms. The master was as it should be, and the second, spartan with only a bed and a nightstand. But the third bedroom, the furthest from the master, was troubling. It was completely empty. Who kept a completely empty bedroom in their house? That, however, was not a perfect description. The bedroom was not completely empty. He bent down and scooped up an old envelope from the floor.

  Once again, he returned to the area where Chris and Jennifer Barnes patiently waited. “I’m going to set the timer on your oven,” he said. “When it sounds, you will wake up refreshed and feeling well. Do you understand?”

  They nodded.

  “You will not remember my questions. You will not remember me. And you will have absolutely no memory of my having been here. Is that clear?”

  The couple nodded.

  With that, John left the house, locking the door behind him. More answers were to be found here, but he would not find them today.

  Sitting in his car, however, outside Chris and Jennifer Barnes’ house, John opened the envelope he found in the third bedroom. It turned out to be an invitation to a birthday party. Interestingly enough, a party for Candy Barnes.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  MARTIN

  May 4, 2020, 12:30 p.m.

  Martin angled off the road and pulled onto the asphalt drive, stopping the car at a locked gate, a farm-style barrier made of tubular steel and corrugated strips of metal. About three hundred yards beyond the gate sat a double-wide trailer Tanner McIntosh had dragged onto the property—a semi-wooded, two-acre lot a few miles east of town.

  Martin had met Tanner during a church event, a day of service, painting houses. It now seemed an unlikely place to have met the man, and Martin wondered, as he had since getting the idea, if coming here was a good idea. He and Tanner had little in common, but as soon as Martin had become convinced that Susan was being completely honest about not knowing Candy Barnes, he’d thought of Tanner. After all, he was Candy’s uncle. Not only that, but he also had an interest in the unusual. He and Martin had talked about such things during the house painting and again at one of Candy’s parties.

  He didn’t sound the horn. If Tanner wanted the visit, he’d show up shortly. If not, he would back out and go on his way. He’d called ahead, but Tanner hadn’t answered. He seldom did.

  Several seconds later, the gate swung open, and Martin guided the Audi along the winding drive toward the double-wide, which sat at the high point of the property. The automation of the gate was something new. He pulled up in front of the fourth bay door of the garage—a large, metal building he guessed Tanner had built after moving onto the property. It looked newer than the house.

  He sat for a moment and then climbed out of the Audi and leaned against the car, arms folded in front of him. Tanner made no sign indicating he even knew Martin was there, but he did know. Someone had to have opened the gate.

  Just inside the first bay door, Tanner worked on an old Harley-Davidson. A large pit bull terrier, something else that was different, sauntered over and sniffed Martin’s leg.

  “Becker, leave the man alone.”

  Martin loved animals, but pit bulls made him nervous. They always had. He suspected the dog, Becker, Tanner had called him, could sense his fear, which only made things worse.

  “Hello, Becker,” he said. “I came to talk to the boss. Is he available?”

  The dog made no indication that he heard the greeting. He just stood there between him and Tanner, his eyes intently studying Martin’s every move. Keeping half of his attention on the dog, Martin looked toward the garage. “Hey, Tanner. What’s up?”

  “You’re the one with the troubled look on your face. You tell me.”

  Martin felt like he had just put himself on the spot. He wished he were more decisive, more like Tanner. But he wasn’t. He probably never would be. He didn’t even know why he was here. But since he was, and he didn’t know who else to turn to, he came out with it. “I’m not sure where to start,” he said. “Things seem to be happening, weird things.”

  “Like what?”

  Martin glanced at the dog and then back to the garage. He decided it might be best to ease into it. “I’ve been having some troubling deja vu moments, thought maybe you could help me sort it out.”

  Tanner got to his feet, wiped his hands with an oil rag, and then retrieved something from his pocket and pulled his hair back into a ponytail. He sauntered over to where Martin was standing. Then, like some misplaced cowboy, he leaned into the car, bringing his face within inches of Martin’s. He’d always reminded Martin of Sam Elliot, except this version had more tattoos and seemed rougher around the edges, if that were possible.

  “You came all the way out here to talk about something as benign as that?”

  Tanner pushed away from the car and then walked away, strolling across the yard. He didn’t ask Martin to follow. If his expression meant anything, Martin suspected he’d be better off to get back in his car and drive away, but he wouldn’t do that. Something kept him here, and whatever it was it was strong enough to overcome his fear of both Tanner and the dog.

  Martin found Tanner about fifty yards from the garage sitting in a lawn chair. Tanner had constructed a crude patio made of pavers. He’d fashioned a barbecue out of a thirty-gallon drum and placed a couple of wooden lawn chairs beside the cooker. Between the chairs, an old metal ice chest that looked antique enough to be a decorator piece sat elevated from the ground on a wooden pallet.

  “What’s this all about, Martin? Having a little fun with me because I’m a little out there? If you have a problem outside the ordinary, from Bigfoot to UFO’s, then Tanner’s your man, right?”

  Martin sat down in the other lawn chair. He’d never seen this side of Tanner and discovering the guy he secretly looked up to wasn’t as tough as he seemed didn’t help. “It’s nothing like that,” he said. “Things that I don’t understand are happening. I’m afraid, Tanner. I thought maybe you could help, that’s all.”

  Tanner laughed, more of a smirk actually. “Now what in blazes could the stoic Martin Taylor be afraid of?”

  Martin sat forward. He’d thought of himself in many different ways. Half of his mental energy was spent worrying over what other people thought of him, but he never considered himself stoic. What’s more, he was c
ompelled to lay it all out, as if Tanner were some high-powered psychologist or something.

  “Everything, Tanner. God only knows what I go through. But that’s another story. This time, I think I have myself a real problem.”

  “All right, then. What’s this all about?”

  “Susan woke me up this morning, telling me I was going to be late for an appointment. Trouble is, she brought me out of a dream that was pretty much the same thing I was supposed to be late for.”

  Tanner reached into the ice chest between the chairs, pulled out a can, and popped it open. “Beer?” he asked.

  Martin considered it but then shook his head. “I still have to drive home.”

  Tanner took a swig. “Dreams are one thing, and deja vu is another. At any rate, there’s a mountain of information out there. Anybody who wants to can find it with a little Internet browsing. Of course, like everything else, ninety-nine percent of it is garbage. Then again, if you can locate some common threads, sometimes you can get the gist of what’s valid and what’s not.”

  Martin hesitated and then decided he’d already gone this far; there was no sense in holding back. “What do you know about time travel?”

  Tanner leaned back in his chair and sipped his beer. Moments later, he said, “Could you tell me a little more about this dream?”

  Martin shifted in his chair and tried to gain a semblance of comfort. He then relayed everything to Tanner as best he remembered it, including the doctor’s visit, the accident, and waking up to find that he and Luke had yet to make the appointment.

  Afterward, Tanner stared into space for what seemed a long time.

  An uneasy feeling crept through Martin, and he considered dropping the subject, passing it off as an effort at conversation. He could not bring himself to do that. “So, what do you think?”

  Tanner studied Martin’s face. “When was the appointment?” he asked.

  Martin shrugged. “It was today.”

  “And you went to it, you and Luke?”

  “That’s right. We got out of there around 10:30. After dropping Luke off, I came straight over here.”

  “And what about Doctor Stewart and his car?”

  “It all happened just like I told you.” He paused before adding, “At least from my perspective.”

  Tanner narrowed his eyes, which caused lines to form across his forehead. “Then I guess we should pray that you are delusional, and what you thought you experienced was, in fact, some kind of unusual, lucid dream.”

  Martin was not sure if he should ask the next question, but it came out anyway. “And what if it’s real and not a dream?”

  “If, in fact, you’ve already lived this entire day and are now taking a second stab at it, then I’d say we have a real problem on our hands.”

  Martin had consumed no alcohol in at least five years. He had never been a heavy drinker; he only ordered a drink occasionally when he and Susan went to dinner. But that had been one thing he’d given up when he accepted Jesus into his life. However, Pastor Meadows had once told him the alcohol itself wasn’t the sin, but the abuse of it. Martin didn’t think having one now with Tanner would constitute abuse.

  “Is that beer offer still open?” he asked.

  “Help yourself.”

  Martin fished a can from the ice and popped it open. “Why would that be a problem?”

  “You’re kidding me, right? Tell me, on the first go around, did you and I have this little visit?”

  “No,” Martin said. “We didn’t.”

  Tanner shook his head. “If it’s even possible, and I don’t know that it is, do you have any idea of the consequences of your actions, of what you might have set in motion?”

  “I guess I kind of thought there might be some repercussions.”

  “Repercussions? Martin, going on the assumption that this is real, you’ve altered your timeline and, in addition, anybody else’s you might have come into contact with today. There’s no telling what you’ve done.”

  Martin leaned back in the chair. He did not know what else to say, much less offer any valid follow up to such a revelation.

  “You’re a good man,” Tanner continued, “and the best father Luke could hope for, but let’s face it. You worry like someone’s grandmother. I’m sure you were all keyed up and went to bed fretting over the possibility of Luke getting unruly or even uncooperative during the appointment. It’s no wonder you had a nightmare. Concentrate on the dream. Is there anything else you can remember about it?”

  Martin closed his eyes and let his thoughts roam free for a moment. When he reopened them, he said, “Does the term Camp Hero mean anything to you?”

  Tanner’s face lost a couple of shades of color. “It’s a name associated with the Air Force base in Montauk, New York. Question is, how do you know about it?”

  Martin shrugged. “It was part of the dream. There were voices. One of them might have said something like that. But they were in the background, more like whispers, a conversation I wasn’t directly involved with. It’s probably nothing.”

  An expression somewhere between fear and excitement ran across Tanner’s face. “I don’t know about that,” he said. “It just might be the most substantive thing you’ve told me today.”

  Martin wanted to press forward, ask about Candy, but Tanner’s shift in behavior and the look on his face caused him to reconsider. He opted for a momentary distraction to ease the mood. He motioned toward the garage. “I noticed the old Harley you were working on. What do you have going on with that?”

  “Not just any old Harley,” Tanner said, “a 1947 Knucklehead, kind of rare, and pretty pricey. Guy that owns it is supposed to pick it up today.” He paused and shrugged. “It keeps me busy. Pick up a few dollars now and then. How about you? Do you ride?”

  “Yeah, it’s been a few years. Had a couple of scooters when I was a kid, and later, in college, I picked up a 350, but never anything like you’ve got here.”

  Tanner smiled, the first time he’d shown any lightheartedness since the visit that Martin had noticed.

  “We need to get you on a Harley,” Tanner said. “Might loosen some of that tension between your ears.”

  “Yeah,” Martin said, “I’d like that.” He paused and then said, “On the level, Tanner, this time-travel thing, do you believe it’s possible?”

  “Well, it’s kind of like this. I love thinking about stuff like that, reading it, watching it on TV, but actually believing it? I don’t know if I’m ready to take that step or not.”

  At any other time, Martin would have been relieved by that. But this wasn’t any other time. “I wish I could say the same. You mentioned earlier that reliving today, or any other past event, could alter the timeline, change things and not all for the good.”

  “What exactly are you getting at?”

  “Changes,” Martin said, “differences in the way things were before.”

  “Like what, for example?”

  Martin glanced eastward to an area where an old tractor sat, a trailer of some kind attached to the hitch. “You have some new motorcycles, a few more tattoos, a dog, and there used to be some playground equipment where the tractor is.”

  Tanner laughed or rather smirked again. “Interesting, but not exactly earth-shattering news is it? At least a month has passed since you were here before. None of it’s real, mind you, but even if it were, it’s easily explainable given the amount of time that’s passed.”

  Martin nodded. Time to bring out the big guns. “The playground equipment was for Candy Barnes, your niece, and Chris and Jennifer’s daughter.”

  Tanner rose from the wooden law
n chair and walked over, all six foot two inches of him, hovering over Martin.

  For a moment, Martin thought the old biker might just drag him from the chair and give him a beating, but he turned and started back toward the garage.

  “I guess I should go,” Martin said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” That much was true. Martin hadn’t wanted that, but he had wanted to get Tanner’s attention. He’d done that, but maybe not in the most productive way. He got up from the chair, though instead of leaving he followed Tanner into the garage.

  Several bikes in various stages of restoration were arranged across the center part of the garage. But along the north wall, five fully assembled Harleys were lined up and ready. Martin had once again gained the attention of the pit bull. The dog got up from his sleeping position and walked over and stared up at Martin, his canine face expressionless. A bead of sweat slipped down from Martin’s arm pit. He wondered if the dog lunged, would Tanner care? Would he step in and keep Martin from being ripped to pieces?

  “I am sorry,” Martin said. “It’s just that things are happening that I don’t understand. I’m sorry I bothered you.”

  Martin turned to leave, but he had only taken a few steps when Tanner spoke.

  “Not so fast. We haven’t finished our business.”

  Martin turned back. After all, Tanner controlled the gate which would let him out. “What do you mean?”

  He swept his hand toward the bikes. “It’s time for that riding lesson, my friend.”

  “I don’t know,” Martin said. “It’s been a long time, and I’ve never ridden a bike that big. Maybe some other time.”

  “I’m afraid I’ll have to insist,” Tanner said. “There’s nothing to worry about. It’s like falling off a horse. Once you’ve done it, you never forget.”

  He rolled one bike out and onto the drive outside the garage. “Anyway, it’s a small one, an XLCH, only 900cc. You should be able to handle it, seeing as you rode a 350. Climb on, and I’ll show you the gear pattern and where the brakes are. After that, it’s just a matter of getting your confidence up.”