Mercer Street (American Journey Book 2) Page 5

  "I did," Bell said.

  "How did this come about?"

  "It came about mostly by accident."

  "I don't understand," Susan said.

  "Then let me explain," Bell said. "It all started in the summer of 1898, when my great-grandfather, Percival Bell, joined a scientific expedition that explored a remote section of the Sierra Nevada mountain range. Percival was forty then and, like me, a man dedicated to science and discovery. He joined the group primarily to gain knowledge of Cretaceous rock formations, but it wasn't long before he gained knowledge of something far more interesting."

  "Please continue."

  "On the third day of the journey, Percival entered a limestone cave and discovered hundreds of mysterious symbols carved on a wall. With the help of his brother, an anthropologist, he was able to determine that the writing on the wall was a formula – a formula for time travel."

  "How come I had never heard of his discovery?" Susan asked.

  "You had never heard of it because Percival did not share his find with the others in the expedition or the greater scientific community. He shared the formula only with close family members and people he could trust."

  "I see. What did he do when the expedition ended?"

  "He returned to Los Angeles," Bell said. "He returned to L.A. and built a very special house, a house Jeanette and I call home. Percival used the formula, limestone bricks, and gypsum crystals he found in the cave to create a tunnel that extended from his basement to his backyard. The tunnel is much like the one he found in the Sierras. By observing astronomical tables and synchronizing crystals in the chamber with ones he carried, Percival was able to turn a limestone tunnel into a portal to the past."

  "When did you learn all this?"

  "I learned the family secret twenty years ago. When my father died, I inherited, among other things, a detailed journal that Percival had kept. The journal documented the expedition in 1898, the formula, and my great-grandfather's time travels."

  "Did he travel a lot?" Susan asked.

  Bell shook his head.

  "He did not. Percival accessed the portal only three times between January 7, 1900, the day he completed the tunnel, and March 22, 1900, the day he died of a stroke."

  "That's sad."

  "It was sad. Percival left a wife and two children," Bell said. "A few weeks after her husband died, my great-grandmother put the house on the market and returned to her native Boston. She sold the residence, through an agent, in December of 1900."

  "You mean the house did not remain in your family?" Susan asked.

  "No. Five different families occupied the place between 1901 and 2000, when Jeanette and I purchased it. It wasn't until then that we were able to access the tunnel, test the formula, and prove that Percival Bell was not, as you might say, 'full of it.'"

  Susan smiled.

  "I'm sorry for doubting you. This is all still very overwhelming."

  "There is no need to apologize," Bell said. "I sprung this on you in the middle of your pleasant, carefree vacation. I asked you to believe in something that many of the world's leading physicists have relegated to the heap of science fiction."

  "That raises other questions," Susan said.

  "Such as?"

  "Such as why bring us into this? We're total strangers. If you feel like sharing this secret with others, why not share it with people you know and trust? Or why not share it with the rest of the scientific community? You could change the world."

  "You're right," Bell said. "I could change the world. I could do a lot of things by traveling to the past. I could cure diseases, prevent wars, and introduce wonderful ideas years before their time. I could do many good things and do them with minimal effort."

  "But …"

  "But it's not my place to do so."

  "OK. I get that part," Susan said. "But why pick us? Even if you don't want to change the world or turn science on its head, why share your knowledge with us? Why ask us to take a trip that you could just as easily take yourself?"

  "There are many answers to those questions, answers I'll reveal over time should you choose to participate in this opportunity," Bell said. "What I can tell you today is that I am driven by the pursuit of knowledge and now wish to gain that knowledge through the assistance of others."

  "So why not pick people with suitable qualifications? We're just three average women from Illinois. We're not scientists. We don't have any special skills or knowledge."

  Bell smiled.

  "That's where you're wrong, my dear. You have exactly the skills, knowledge, and attitude I'm looking for."

  "Please explain," Susan said.

  "All right. I will," Bell said. "Let's start with you. You're hardly 'average.' You're an educated woman, a novelist, and a trained observer of society and the human condition. You are perfectly suited to interact with strangers in a potentially challenging environment."

  Susan smiled.

  "I'm not sure about that, but I'll take it."

  Bell sipped his tea and continued.

  "As for Elizabeth and Amanda, they too are bright, educated women. They too bring valuable things to the table. One lived through most of the twentieth century. The other studied it extensively. They have an understanding of the past that is priceless."

  Susan glanced again at Elizabeth and Amanda and saw smiles on their faces. Like herself, they were apparently not immune to flattery.

  "Thank you for the explanation," Susan said to Bell. "I understand a lot more than I did a few minutes ago, but I don't understand everything. I don't, for example, understand why we can't do more with this so-called 'opportunity.'"

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean why must we travel to the twentieth century? Why can't we go to the eighteenth or the fifteenth or the first? I think running into Benjamin Franklin or Joan of Arc or Pliny the Elder might be kind of fun."

  "I'm sure it would," Bell said. "There are two reasons why you can't travel to the distant past. The first is because the tunnel did not exist, at least in its finished form, before January 7, 1900. The second is because the maximum range of the portal is precisely 116 years. I discovered that limitation earlier this year. I believe the stars are to blame, but that's only a guess."

  "So what you're saying is that if we accepted your offer – and traveled today – we could not go back to a time before September 7, 1900."

  "That's exactly what I'm saying."

  Susan settled into her seat and thought about everything Bell had said. She still couldn't quite wrap her head around the idea that time travel, at least to the recent past, was real. She started to raise another matter when her normally talkative mother finally joined the conversation.

  "I have a question," Elizabeth said.

  Bell looked at his number-one fan.

  "Please ask."

  "Would we be able to travel to any year in the 1900s?"

  The professor smiled.

  "The simple answer is yes. The not-so-simple answer is no."

  "I don't understand," Elizabeth said.

  "Let me put it to you this way," Bell said. "If I did not care about your personal safety, I would let you pick any year. Because I do care about your safety, I cannot. As I mentioned earlier, five different families occupied the house in Los Angeles between 1901 and 2000. I have never met these people. I don't know how they would react if they caught three women trespassing in their yard. I don't know if they have dogs or guns or understand the significance of the tunnel. I know only when they occupied the residence and when they did not."

  "What does that leave us?" Susan asked.

  "It leaves you with nine years," Bell said.

  "Just nine?"

  Bell nodded. He pulled a piece of paper from his vest pocket and gave it to Susan.

  "According to property records, the house was not occupied during the years written on that slip. If you want to travel to the past, you will have to pick a year from that list."

  Susan scanned the s
lip and saw nine numbers ranging from 1900 to 1984. She took special note of the dates 1929 and 1958 and then shared the list with her family. Elizabeth greeted the choices with a smile. Amanda greeted them with apparent indifference.

  "Is something wrong with the years?" Susan asked.

  "No," Amanda said. "I like most of them."

  "Then why the frown. You look a bit troubled."

  "I'm just a little concerned about the logistics of all this," Amanda said. She turned to Bell. "I'd like to know more about this process of yours, Professor."

  "What would you like to know?" Bell asked.

  "Well, for starters, if we went on a trip, would we return to the same time we left?"

  "It would depend."

  Susan zeroed in on Bell. She didn't expect that answer.

  "Depend?" Amanda asked. "On what?"

  "It would depend on whether you returned to the tunnel bearing a white crystal or a blue crystal," Bell said. "I would give you one of each before you departed. With the white crystal in your possession, you would be able stay as long as you wanted in the past and return to the present as if you had been gone only a few seconds."

  "What if we returned with only the blue crystal?" Amanda asked.

  "Then you would return to the present as if time had never stopped. If you left today and remained for a month, you would return to Los Angeles on October 7, 2016. In such a circumstance, you might have to explain your disappearance to others."

  "I see."

  "There is another consideration as well," Bell said.

  "Oh," Susan said. "What's that?"

  "The blue crystals have a shelf life of no more than 153 days."

  "What does that mean?"

  "What it means is that should you lose your white crystal and wait more than 153 days to return to the portal, you may find yourself permanently in the past."

  Susan tensed up.

  "Oh, my."

  "I don't mean to alarm you," Bell said. "In the unlikely event that you lost both crystals or stayed too long, I would still have the ability to bring you back – provided, of course, that I knew where to look for you. That is why I would insist that you create an itinerary and stick to it."

  "I think you could count on us to do that," Susan said.

  "I'm sure I could," Bell said.

  Susan looked at the professor and sighed. She still wasn't sure she trusted him, but she wasn't sure it mattered. She wanted what he was offering. Widowed and unfulfilled at age forty-eight, she needed an adventure like most people needed a car.

  "I suppose you have materials for us to consider and a deadline to observe."

  "You're right on both counts," Bell said. "I've prepared a packet of papers for you to read, sign, and return. I would like an answer by Friday."

  "You'll have one," Susan said.

  She glanced at Elizabeth and Amanda, saw that they too were ready to leave, and then returned to Bell. She wanted to say one more thing but couldn't find the words.

  "Do you have any more questions for me today?" Bell asked.

  "I do. It's not a big deal one way or the other, but it is something I've been thinking about the past ten minutes."

  "Then please ask. Tell me what's on your mind."

  "OK. I will," Susan said. She took a deep breath and smiled. "I want to know if you've sent any other acquaintances on a time-travel trip."

  Bell smiled.

  "As it turns out, I have," Bell said. "I sent a San Francisco reporter and his college-age son to 1900 back in April."

  "Have you heard from them?"

  "No."

  "Had you expected to?" Susan asked.

  "Yes."

  "So they should have returned by now?"

  "Yes."

  "Oh."

  "Please don't read too much into this," Bell said. "I know where they are and believe they are safe, but I don't know for sure."

  "Why is that?"

  "I don't know because the men in question chose not to follow my instructions. They sought danger where danger lurked. They decided to dance with a hurricane."

  CHAPTER 8: AMANDA

  Thursday, September 8, 2016

  Sitting with her family at a small table in their hotel suite, Amanda Taylor Peterson looked over the papers like an attorney and wondered for the third time in three hours whether she needed this adventure. She agreed with her mother on two counts. Traveling to the past would be fun. Getting stuck there would not.

  "What's the matter, honey?" Susan asked. "I see doubt on your face."

  "That's because there's doubt in my mind," Amanda said. "Look at all these forms. There are at least three separate disclaimers. Do we really know what we're doing?"

  Susan laughed.

  "No, Amanda, we don't. If we accept Professor Bell's invitation, we will be taking the biggest leap of our lives."

  Amanda sighed.

  "What do you think, Grandma? Do you think this is worth the risks?"

  Elizabeth gazed at Amanda.

  "You're asking the wrong person, dear. I'm a woman nearing the end of her life. I look at risk differently than a woman just beginning her life," Elizabeth said. "The only thing I will not do is travel without my family."

  "That makes two of us," Amanda said.

  Amanda looked again at the scattered papers and laughed to herself. She had to admit that Geoffrey Bell was thorough. He had provided the women with more than a dozen forms to complete and requested everything from their clothing sizes to the names of their closest friends, professional contacts, and next of kin.

  Bell had also asked the women to release him from any legal liability and commit at least three thousand dollars to the venture. He may have been ready to provide the ladies with the time of their lives, but he was not ready to provide it for free.

  "I say we go over the basics one more time," Susan said. "If we can't all agree on what to do and where to go, then we won't take the trip. Period. Does that sound good?"

  "That sounds good," Amanda said.

  "Mom?"

  "You know my answer," Elizabeth said.

  "All right then. Let's take it from the top," Susan said. "Do we even want to do this? Do we want to go to a relative stranger's house in Los Angeles, walk through his magic tunnel, and take the chance that we might find something unpleasant on the other end?"

  "I do," Elizabeth said.

  "Amanda?"

  The young woman nodded.

  "Then we agree on the big question. I want to do it too," Susan said. "The fact we can return to the same time is key. I don't know if I would be so willing to accept the professor's invitation if we had to explain a long absence to our friends."

  "I know I wouldn't," Amanda said.

  Amanda smiled. She could just imagine explaining her absence to her boss at the think tank. She could also imagine him calling men in white coats to haul her off to a relaxing sanitarium.

  "The next matter is just as important," Susan said. "If we take this trip, we can't just go where we want. We have to select a year from the professor's list. So let's try to find some common ground. Let's start with you, Mom. Make your case for 1938."

  "I think I already have," Elizabeth said. "I know it's not as appealing as some of the other years on the list, but it's one that is dear to me. It was the year I was born, the year my parents fled Austria and came to America. I would like to see them again, even as a stranger, and somehow make amends for the choices I've made."

  Amanda didn't need clarification. She knew her grandmother regretted the decisions she had made in 1958, when she eloped with a Protestant, abandoned her Catholic faith, and essentially severed ties with her parents. She also knew that Elizabeth had never shaken the guilt that followed their deaths in a car accident four years later and would probably benefit greatly from seeing them when they were young and vibrant and not old and embittered.

  "How about you, sweetheart?" Susan asked. "You told me yesterday that you liked 1900 and 1958. Is that still the case?"
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br />   Amanda nodded.

  "If I had to choose between them, I'd pick 1958. I want to travel as far back as possible, but I also want to go to a time with vaccines and antibiotics."

  Elizabeth laughed.

  "So polio outbreaks don't appeal to you?"

  "Oh, they do, Grandma. They appeal to me almost as much as pneumonia, meningitis, and tuberculosis. I mean what's life without an infectious disease?"

  "Are you open to other years?" Susan asked.

  "I am," Amanda said.

  "That's good to hear," Susan said. "I think you both know I prefer 1929. I love everything about the Roaring Twenties – the music, the fashions, even Prohibition. I think it would be kind of fun to sneak into a speakeasy and listen to some early jazz."

  Elizabeth sighed.

  "It sounds like we're going to have a dickens of a time agreeing on a year."

  Susan smiled.

  "We won't if I can get you two to see the light."

  Amanda laughed. She liked seeing her mother's playful side. Slowly but surely, Susan Peterson was emerging from the shadow of that awful morning in Wisconsin.

  "What about venues?" Amanda asked. "We haven't talked much about where we should go. I'd like to travel across the country and then spend some quality time in New York."

  "I would too," Susan said. "It sounds to me like you favor a longer trip."

  Amanda nodded.

  "I do. I want to spend at least six months in the past. We will probably never have the chance to do this again, so why not make the most of it?"

  "I agree," Susan said. "If we travel to the past, then we should stay a while. Our friends may notice a few new wrinkles on our faces when we get back, but who cares? If we do this, we should go all out. We should make an adventure of it."

  Amanda took a sip from her can of cola.

  "We still have to work out the particulars though," Amanda said. "We won't have any adventure until we pick a time and a place."

  Susan turned to face Elizabeth.

  "Are you dead set on 1938 and Princeton, Mom?"

  "I am. I know I should be flexible, but I want to see my parents. I want to see them when they were young and happy. I want to see my childhood home," Elizabeth said. She paused for a moment as her eyes began to water. "You two are young. You may have other opportunities to time travel. I won't. I want to do this."