The Fire (Northwest Passage Book 4) Page 13

"Then what?"

  Andy stood up and collected his hat and jacket from a rack in the corner of the room. When he finished donning the accessories, he turned to his friend.

  "I should quit because I'm suddenly reminded of the calendar and my sordid heritage."

  Kevin smiled. He knew what was coming.

  "Let's take a turn on Cedar and see what trouble we can find," Andy said with a mischievous grin. "We have a patron saint to honor."

  CHAPTER 30: ASA

  Friday, June 21, 2013

  The time traveler decided at Milepost 299 that he couldn't do it. Halfway between the rat race of Spokane and the sprawl of Coeur d'Alene, Asa Lysander Johnson decided that he couldn't live in a world of stifling traffic, irritating noise, and endless distraction.

  Though he liked making money in the twenty-first century, he knew now he could never be a permanent part of it. He would return to Wallace and a time that made sense and finally start to truly enjoy the fruits of his labors.

  An hour later, Asa gazed out the right rear window of what his driver called a Prius and took stock of his surroundings. The mountains and forests looked much the same, but the buildings did not. Businesses and houses were larger, newer, and far more functional. So were the cars. He smiled as he thought of a modern vehicle traveling seventy-five miles per hour down a road as smooth as silk. What an age, he thought. What an age. Too bad it was not for him.

  "Shall I drop you off at the usual place, Mr. Johnson?" the cab driver asked.

  "Yes, I'd like that, Frank."

  Asa glanced at the driver as he turned off of Interstate 90 at Exit 61 and followed Wallace's business route to a spot on Garnet Street two blocks shy of his home. He preferred this approach because it allowed him to perform a risk assessment and adjust to any unexpected complications.

  Only once had Asa run into a problem he could not immediately address. In 2005 he had stumbled upon a backyard gathering that had forced a temporary postponement of his return to the past. One did not access the chamber of stones when children and grown-ups played croquet in the backyard.

  Asa paid Frank handsomely for his time, sent him on his way, and slowly approached a house that James May had built in 1895. He generally admired what his descendants had done to the place, particularly the codger Roger Johnson, a man Asa believed to be his grandson. The greenhouse and the redwood deck were nice touches.

  Wearing a nondescript suit that didn't stand out in either era, Asa walked past his property on the far side of the street. When he glanced to his left, he saw his house and a potential problem. A middle-aged couple and a much younger woman gathered outside the residence and then stepped toward a large, sleek vehicle. Asa hadn't seen them before and didn't know who they were. He knew only that he would have to evaluate the situation before proceeding.

  Asa walked to the end of the street, dropped his small suitcase to the ground, and pretended to admire the scenery without appearing to be lost. He needed offers of assistance from strangers like he needed a hole in his head.

  When the trio in the car pulled out of the driveway, drove to Garnet and Seventh, and turned out of sight, Asa grabbed his suitcase and headed back toward the house. He didn't see the old man or his vehicle. He instead saw a smaller, odd-looking automobile parked out front. Was it possible that someone had remained behind? Asa couldn't tell. He proceeded with caution.

  Asa walked first to the west side of the house, where he couldn't be seen by any occupants, and scanned Roger Johnson's backyard. It too appeared unoccupied. Deciding that the coast was clear, he walked quickly to the stone chamber, looked over his shoulder one last time, and placed his "godless gold" at the foot of the door.

  He paused a moment, picked up the gold, walked into the shed, and waited for the portal to do its thing. Though he hadn't figured out all the particulars of this amazing facility, he knew two things for certain: he could never predict the time of his arrival and always predict the time of his return. He'd return to the same time and date that he had entered the chamber.

  That could be both a blessing and a curse. He hated to be away from Celia, but he hated answering questions even more. Since it was hard to explain business trips that lasted seconds, instead of days or weeks, he had gotten into the habit of scheduling some of his "moonlight excursions" around actual business trips.

  This trip would be different. Because he was not bringing back gifts from the city – gifts he might have to explain – he would walk through his front door as if he had come straight home from work and not made a late afternoon detour through the chamber of stones.

  As he waited in the darkness of the shed, Asa pondered the twenty or so trips he had made since the moonlit night of April 28, 1907, when he had discovered that time travel was real, accessible, and potentially lucrative.

  The first trip had been particularly memorable, even though much of it had been spent in a public library. After getting over the shock of traveling ninety-three years in a matter of minutes, Asa had taken a crash course on 2000. He had read newspapers, encyclopedias, and financial magazines, all in an effort to learn about the twentieth century and determine how he could profit from the twenty-first.

  Still, he had moved slowly. He had traveled to five more years – 2002, 2005, 2007, 2009, and 2012 – in the following months before settling on a starting point for future endeavors. He had picked 2007 because it was a year that the U.S. economy had started to fall and possibilities for speculators had started to rise.

  In between trips to libraries and financial institutions, Asa had also taken the time to meet people – particularly people in important places. It hadn't taken him long to realize that, to be successful, he would have to establish and cultivate friendships with individuals he could trust.

  When he had done that, he had returned to 2007 and begun doing business with three men: a Spokane gold trader named Mercer, an anonymous jewelry broker who sold man-made diamonds at cut-rate prices, and an independent taxi driver who answered calls at any hour and didn't ask a lot of questions. By keeping his head and working with the right people, Asa had become financially independent within a year.

  He had shared his wealth with Celia but none of his secrets. Though he loved his wife of seven years, he didn't entirely trust her. Asa knew as well as anyone in Wallace, a town built on silver, that wealth changed people. It made them greedy, unpredictable, and talkative. For that reason, Asa had told Celia nothing about the magic portal or his hidden cache. To her, he was a loving husband who traveled often on business and made good money doing it.

  Even with his secrets safe, however, Asa didn't like storing his riches under the floor of a guest bedroom. So in the fall of 1909 he began moving some of his assets to safe-deposit boxes at three different banks and a wall safe in his office. Though he hadn't accessed the hidden space since January 25, he planned to return to it soon. He would empty it over the summer and transfer the remaining coins and jewels to their new homes.

  The chamber of stones, of course, was another matter. Asa had nothing but his Winchester M97 to keep trespassers at bay. He had often wondered whether James May had told others about the shed or whether his descendants had discovered its secrets.

  He thought also about the man he had found in the chamber on Valentine's Day. He liked the newcomer, who had visited the family twice since becoming a teacher, but he still wasn't sure he believed his story. Perhaps Kevin too had heard of the portal. He was a Johnson, after all.

  He slowly opened the chamber door, looked around, and sighed when he saw that the yard was unoccupied. This was the part he dreaded. It would be one thing for Celia to spot him carrying a suitcase near the side of the house. It would be another for her to catch him coming out of the shed.

  Asa sighed again when he stepped into the yard and saw the same garments on the clothesline and the same toys scattered on the lawn. He welcomed the sight, though he didn't care much for the mess. He would talk to Randolph about leaving his toys outside.

  He
walked around the side of the house and scanned the west side of Garnet for family members, curious neighbors, or people he knew. Thankfully, he saw none. Grabbing his suitcase, he walked through his front door and into his kitchen, where he saw an unoccupied table and a calendar marked with X's. It was Wednesday, March 23, 1910, the date he had left and had expected to find – a date that fell just inside the leading shadow of the March 25 full moon.

  Asa smiled when he heard activity in another room. All was well.

  "Celia, I'm home."

  CHAPTER 31: KEVIN

  Thursday, March 24, 1910

  To the students of Mr. Johnson's day-ending science class, it was Krakatoa vs. Vesuvius, a spectacle for the ages and the most exciting thing they'd seen since the lab-rat races on Tuesday.

  To Kevin, it was validation. After nine days of ups and downs at Shoshone County High School, he had finally proved his mettle as an educator.

  He conceded that getting these students excited about this particular experiment wasn't difficult. Kids in 1910 were no different than kids in 2013. They liked to see things ooze and bubble and hear them pop – and few things oozed and bubbled and popped like baking soda volcanoes that spewed ingredients readily available in both eras.

  What made this exercise really ooze, bubble, and pop, however, was competition. Kevin had asked the boys in the class to create one volcano and the girls another. He had told the students that the group that produced more fizz than fizzle would win a gallon of ice cream the next day. Needless to say, he had not cleared the competition with Principal Morrison.

  "This is so much fun, Mr. Johnson. Thank you," Josephine White said.

  "So you like volcanoes?"

  "I do when I can make them!"

  Kevin smiled as he soaked up the enthusiasm of the girl most likely to leave an apple on his desk. He loved these exchanges. He loved making a difference.

  "Didn't you do things like this in Mr. Monroe's classes?"

  The girl shook her head.

  "I don't do things like this in any of my classes."

  "That's too bad," Kevin said. "You should do more stuff like this. Science should be fun. Education should be fun, and it's important that students see it that way."

  "I think so too."

  Kevin saw several cheering students gather around the bubbling mounds of clay and considered joining their ranks, but he decided instead to continue the conversation. He sensed an opportunity for a learning moment, a moment he shouldn't pass up.

  "Why do you agree?"

  The girl seemed taken aback by the question and paused before answering. She apparently didn't want to sound stupid in front of a teacher who valued her opinion.

  "Well, if we see education as fun, we'll be more likely to pay attention in school and keep learning when we get out of school."

  Kevin chuckled.

  "Congratulations, Josie. You get an A for the day."

  The girl turned red, fidgeted, and ran to the corner of the science lab. When she reached her destination, she looked back at Kevin, smiled, and commenced an animated discussion with two visibly interested peers. Score one for self-esteem.

  Kevin looked at Josie, a freshman, with admiration and sadness. He loved her spirit. She was a bright girl and a hard worker, but she was probably going nowhere. If she applied anything she learned in chemistry and physics, it would be how to stretch the detergent she used to clean the clothes of the miner she married and the children she bore.

  When the bell rang, all eyes turned toward the teacher who had arranged the volcanic steel-cage match and offered a gallon of ice cream to the makers of the winner. It was time for that teacher, the lone judge, to render a verdict.

  "Who won, Mr. Johnson?" Fred Simpson asked.

  Kevin chided himself for not paying better attention when the volcanoes had threatened the Silver Valley with dangerous flows of baking soda, vinegar, and food coloring. When he more closely examined the twin peaks, he saw a virtual tie, a Solomon-like decision coming, and a mess he'd have to clean before Morrison made his rounds.

  Kevin walked to the boys' volcano and gave it a thorough inspection. Krakatoa was a frothy mess no matter how you looked at it. He stuck a finger in a puddle of green goo at the mountain's base and then put the finger in his mouth.

  "This is terrible, just terrible," Kevin said with a sour face. "It not only looks bad, it tastes bad. The devastation is complete, men. No one could have survived this. Well done."

  The boys beamed. The girls frowned. Josie White looked crushed.

  Kevin moved on to the girls' volcano and conducted a similar assessment. With pink lava coating its flanks, Vesuvius appeared far less threatening. The mountain itself looked more like a pastel pitcher's mound than a horrific dispenser of noxious gasses, but it did have one thing in its corner: it wasn't finished. Lava continued to flow down its sides.

  "I must say, girls, that Krakatoa does seem more intimidating. It's mean and green and tastes like motor oil," Kevin said. "It's a pretty nasty lump. But as you can see, it's dormant now. Vesuvius, on the other hand, remains a clear and present danger. Given that serious consideration, I must declare this competition a draw."

  The girls cheered.

  "I'll bring two gallons of ice cream to class tomorrow. There will be enough for everyone," Kevin said. "I insist only on one thing."

  "What's that?" Fred said.

  "I insist that the boys serve the girls before themselves."

  "Why?"

  "Why, Fred? Because we are gentlemen first and architects of geologic destruction second."

  The girls smiled and looked at the boys like prisoners of war.

  "Now, all of you run along and let me clean up your mess before I award the prize to the grade-school kids."

  Most of the students laughed. A few cheered. Only Fred appeared dissatisfied with the decision.

  When the last student filed out of the lab, Kevin began cleaning a mess that wasn't half as bad as he had thought it would be. As long as he left the lab shipshape for Samuel Garrison, he'd be fine. He would speak to Ed Morrison about the ice cream in the morning.

  Kevin started to lift the plywood board that supported Krakatoa and carry it to a counter when he heard a familiar voice. It was a voice he had not heard all day.

  "You're becoming very popular."

  He looked toward the open door and saw a ray of sunshine.

  "Hi, Sarah," Kevin said. He relaxed his grip on the board. "Don't believe everything you see."

  "It's not just what I see. It's what I hear," Sarah said. "My students seem quite affected by Mr. Monroe's replacement."

  "I'll take that as a compliment."

  "You should. Do you need some assistance?"

  "Do I need assistance? Yes. Do I want you to spill hot lava on your nice outfit? No."

  "Don't worry about me, Mr. Johnson. I've washed clothes in this dress. There's nothing I've encountered that a little borax won't fix."

  "Are you sure?"

  "I'm sure."

  "OK. I just need help getting these volcanoes to the sink."

  Sarah walked across the room, grabbed two corners of the board, and helped Kevin carry Krakatoa to one of two counters that flanked a large washbasin. A moment later, she helped him carry Vesuvius to the other. When they were done, they stepped away from the basin and turned toward each other like two people more interested in talking than cleaning.

  "So what brings you to my laboratory?"

  "I've come here to ask you some questions."

  Kevin wiped some sawdust from his slacks and returned to his visitor.

  "You have questions?"

  "They're good ones too."

  "OK. I like questions. Good ones are even better. Fire away."

  Sarah smiled nervously.

  "The first pertains to this weekend. Do you have any plans for Easter?"

  "I don't think so. Why do you ask?"

  Sarah sighed.

  "I ask because I'd like to invite you to di
nner."

  Kevin looked away as his head began to spin. He pondered several questions. Was this a bona fide show of interest? If so, what about Pierce? Did he leave this poor woman alone on Christian holidays? Then there was Kevin's adopted family. Did Maude, Andy, or Sadie have something planned for Easter? If so, did it matter? He decided to proceed cautiously.

  "You'd like to have dinner with me?"

  "I would. There would be others, of course."

  "Is that a good thing?"

  Sarah raised an eyebrow.

  "Yes, it is. As you may know, I'm residing with George and Bertha Marshall, an elderly couple who live on the south end of town. They've authorized me to invite you to Easter dinner."

  Kevin chuckled.

  "They've authorized you?"

  Sarah blushed and looked at Kevin in a way that said, "Don't make this difficult."

  "They've authorized me."

  Kevin ditched the attitude and looked at Sarah thoughtfully.

  "I'm honored that you – that they – would invite me, but before I give you an answer, I'd like to know one thing."

  "Please ask."

  "Will Preston Pierce be there?"

  "No. He will not."

  "Do you mind if I ask why? I got the impression the other day that the two of you were, well, close."

  Sarah winced.

  "Mr. Pierce and I have seen each other on occasion since the first of the year, but I would describe our relationship as a friendship. He is currently away on business. I am asking you to dinner as a colleague and a friend."

  Kevin grinned.

  "I thought the Marshalls were asking me to dinner?"

  Sarah blushed again and gave Kevin a smile that turned him to putty.

  "Does that mean you'll come?

  "Yes, Miss Thompson, it means I'll come. What time should I show up?"

  "We can discuss that on the way."

  "Where are we going?"

  "We're going to Garnet Street."

  Sarah met his eyes.

  "I'd like you to walk me home."

  CHAPTER 32: KEVIN