September Sky (American Journey Book 1) Page 5

  "What happened then?" Chuck asked.

  "My great-grandmother returned to her native Boston. She left three weeks after Percival's funeral and never came back. She sold this place, through an agent, in December."

  "Are you telling me that Percival had access to his tunnel for only a few months?"

  "That's exactly what I'm telling you," Bell said. "He traveled to the past just three times – on February 10, February 26, and March 15, 1900. In each instance, he was able to go back to January 1900 and return safely to the present day. He documented his work in a journal – a journal that was given to me after my father died twenty years ago."

  "I assume from what you've said that this home did not remain in the Bell family."

  "It did not. Five different families occupied this house 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 a madman."

  "I take it you've done this a lot," Chuck said.

  Bell fixed his gaze.

  "I have traveled to the past fifteen times, Jeanette twelve. We've seen this house, this country, and this world as they existed before we were even born. We've done it all."

  "So now you want to see the past through the eyes of others. Is that it?" Chuck asked.

  "You catch on quickly."

  Chuck sighed.

  "This is all starting to make sense now."

  "I had hoped that it would," Bell said.

  "Thank you again for giving us this opportunity, Professor. We won't let you down."

  "Ditto," Justin added.

  "That's comforting to hear," Bell said. "Because as much as I want you two to enjoy yourselves in 1900, I want you to take your responsibilities seriously. When you walk out of that tunnel, you will walk into Wednesday, April 18, 1900, and a Los Angeles that has not existed for more than a century. Please respect your surroundings and everyone you meet. Be constantly mindful that you are guests of another time and place and that everything you say or do could profoundly impact the lives of others."

  "We will," Chuck said.

  Bell sipped his tea.

  "Do you still have the documents and assets I gave you upstairs?"

  Chuck nodded.

  "I put most of them in my suitcase. The cash and the train tickets are right here," Chuck said as he patted his vest pocket.

  "That's good," Bell said. "Please hold on to them. You may need every one to thrive and even survive. When you get settled, open a bank account that will allow you to draw funds wherever you go. A thousand dollars will take you far in 1900 but only if you have access to them."

  "Sounds like you want us to stay a while."

  "What I want is for you to honor your commitment of three months."

  "We can do that," Chuck said. "Is there anywhere in particular you want us to go or anything special you want us to do?"

  "Yes. I would like you to at least pay a visit to Chicago. I would like you to record your observations in the journal I put in your suitcase and experience the city to the fullest. I have read that no place in America captured the nation's optimism and spirit in 1900 like the Windy City. See if that is true. Bring me back a souvenir."

  Chuck laughed.

  "I will," Chuck said.

  Bell turned serious.

  "Make sure that souvenir is something you pick up in a store and not in a dance hall," Bell said. "I know you'll make new friends. Just don't forget your responsibilities. When you leave the past, you must leave your friends behind. Am I clear?"

  "You're crystal clear," Chuck said.

  Bell laughed.

  "Did I say something funny?"

  "In fact, you did. Your reference to crystal was a nice segue into our last order of business."

  "I'm not sure I follow."

  "You will in a moment."

  Bell opened the jacket of his form-fitting suit, retrieved three items, and placed them on the coffee table. The items included a skeleton key and two transparent stones.

  "These, gentlemen, are literally your keys back to the here and now," the professor said. "The skeleton key opens the door between the chamber and the outside world. The lock on the door is the same one Percival Bell installed in 1900."

  "What about the rocks?" Chuck asked.

  "The rocks, as you call them, are even more important. They were among the many things I inherited from my father. They are the means by which you will activate the portal and travel from one time to the next."

  "I don't understand."

  "Then let me explain," Bell said. "The white crystal is the rarer and more valuable of the two. With it in your possession, you will be able to walk through the tunnel, spend even years in the past, and return to this room as if you had been gone mere seconds."

  "What about the blue crystal?"

  "That is your backup, Mr. Townsend – one I hope you don't have to use."

  "Please elaborate," Chuck said.

  "The blue crystal is far less powerful. With it in your possession, you will still be able to return to 2016 but not this day and certainly not this moment. If you spend four months in the past, you will return on August 18, 2016, and not April 18. Mrs. Bell and I will almost certainly not be sitting here drinking tea but rather worrying about what happened to you. Time will not stand still. It will march on without you."

  "I see," Chuck said.

  "There's more," Bell said. "The power within the blue crystal will eventually expire. I can't tell you when. I can tell you only that I have never been able activate the chamber using a blue crystal alone after 153 days. Remember September 18, 1900, gentlemen. Should you lose the white crystal, you will have only until that date to utilize the backup. Should you lose both stones, you may be stuck in the past forever."

  Chuck felt a knot form in his stomach as he digested the comment. Returning to the present didn't just mean returning to Los Angeles. It meant protecting two pretty rocks at all costs. All of a sudden, the adventure of a lifetime seemed more like a suicide mission.

  "Why don't you just give us two white crystals? Or a whole bag of blue ones?"

  "I won't because I can't," Bell said. "I have just six white crystals and twelve blue ones in my possession, with little prospect of obtaining more. Percival Bell did not document the location of the limestone cave containing these remarkable gems. Should you and Justin fail to return after six months, I will have no alternative but to utilize a spare and come looking for you. Trust me when I say I'd rather not do that."

  "I understand. We'll take good care of them."

  "Please do. I suggest that each of you carry a crystal when you are traveling and that you store the stones in separate places when you are not. I cannot stress this enough."

  "I think we get it," Chuck said.

  "Do you have any more questions about any part of your journey?"

  "I don't."

  Bell turned to face the collegian.

  "Do you have any questions, Justin?"

  The young man shook his head.

  "I think you've covered everything," Justin said.

  "Then I believe that concludes our business," Bell said.

  The professor gave the skeleton key and the white crystal to Chuck and the blue crystal to Justin. He nodded when the recipients put the valuables in the pockets of their suit jackets.

  Chuck sighed and glanced at the man on the facing sofa.

  "Is this where we part company?"

  "It is," Bell said. "Let me show you out."

  Bell stood up, helped Jeanette to her feet, and waited as the Townsends got up from their sofa. When the visitors retrieved their bags, the professor guided them toward the far side of the room. Jeanette followed closely behind.

  When the four reached the mysterious white door, Bell opened the door and stepped out of the way. He put an arm around his wife's waist and smiled at his guests.

  "That, gentlemen, is your portal to the past."

  Chuck st
epped forward and stuck his head through the doorway. He saw a narrow, brick-lined passage about fifteen feet long, eight feet high, and five feet wide. A single strip of glowing white and blue stones, embedded in the bricks overhead, provided the only illumination. A plain, windowless door stood at the other end of the chamber.

  "That's it?" Chuck asked.

  The professor laughed.

  "I'm afraid you'll have to read a book or watch a movie if you want bells and whistles or flux capacitors," Bell said. "The only fancy feature of this time machine is the string of crystals overhead. Each of the stones has been synchronized with the glowing ones in your pockets."

  "What do you mean by 'glowing'?" Chuck asked. "They aren't glowing."

  "Look again."

  Chuck and Justin exchanged puzzled glances and then reached slowly into their pockets. Each pulled out a crystal that emitted a soft but steady light.

  "I guess the time-travel gods are smiling on us," Chuck said.

  "They are today," Bell said. "The portable crystals and the ones in the chamber light up only when they have been properly synchronized and placed in close proximity to each other."

  Chuck examined his glowing rock for a few seconds and then returned it to his pocket. When he saw Justin do the same, he nodded to no one in particular and looked again at Bell.

  "So all we have to do now is walk through that door?" Chuck asked.

  "That's all."

  Jeanette gave the Townsends a warm smile.

  "There is one more thing," Bell said. "Unless you want to walk to the Southern Pacific depot, you'll need to board a trolley. You can catch one three blocks north of here on Adams. I placed a bag of nickels, dimes, and quarters in each of your bags. Please use the coins sparingly until you have the chance to break the banknotes at the train station or at a financial institution. Most merchants in 1900 aren't used to giving change from a fifty-dollar bill."

  "I understand," Chuck said.

  Bell pulled his hand from Jeanette's waist and offered it to the reporter.

  "Good luck, Mr. Townsend."

  Chuck took the hand.

  "Thank you."

  Chuck shook Jeanette's hand, exchanged pleasantries, and stepped through the doorway. He waited for Justin to say goodbye to the Bells and then led him into a tunnel that seemed darker and more ominous from the inside. He took a breath and continued to the far door.

  Chuck felt his stomach drop when the professor shut the interior door. For an uncomfortably long moment, he felt fearful, claustrophobic, and regretful. He wondered whether he had done the right thing by agreeing to participate in this nutty experiment.

  The doubts passed quickly. Chuck's spirits soared the second he opened the exterior door and stepped out of the chamber and into blinding sunlight. He waited for Justin to join him and then started up the first of twenty brick steps that led to a large backyard and the world beyond.

  A moment later, Chuck walked from the top step to the center of the yard and surveyed his surroundings. He needed only a few seconds to realize that Professor Geoffrey Bell's not-so-fancy time machine was the real deal and that he had, in fact, traveled to another era.

  No matter where Chuck turned, he saw something that looked different. The Bell mansion, freshly painted, bore the markings of a new home. All of the neighboring houses looked as though they had been built in the 1880s instead of the 1980s. The streets were wide, unpaved, and lined with utility poles. The landscaping was minimal and primitive.

  Chuck gazed at his son when he reached the top of the steps. He watched with interest when Justin dropped his suitcase, walked around the yard, and conducted his own visual assessment.

  "Take a good look, Justin. You may never see L.A. like this again."

  Chuck smiled as he watched his son's face brighten.

  "I can't believe it," Justin said. "We did it! We actually traveled through time."

  Chuck laughed.

  "Either that or we drank some very funky tea."

  Chuck warmed when he saw Justin extend his arms, spin around, and take a deep breath. He was clearly enjoying the moment.

  "Can you smell the difference?" Justin asked.

  "Yeah. I can."

  Chuck could too. He had detected a change the second he'd opened the door. He had picked up the sweet scent of citrus and the odor of horses and not the stifling stench of chemicals and petroleum. This was Los Angeles, all right, but it was the Los Angeles of another time.

  Chuck laughed when he saw his son run around the yard. Justin was like a kid at Disneyland. He had grown up in the Southland and had known nothing but traffic, noise, and smog. Seeing, smelling, and hearing it like this had to be nirvana for his senses.

  "This is amazing," Justin said.

  Chuck couldn't disagree. He had a hard time believing that crystals and limestone could send a person to the past, but he couldn't deny the proof around him. He had not consumed funky tea or fallen into a dream. He had instead done something that was supposed to be impossible.

  The reporter laughed again when he saw his giddy son approach.

  "Are you ready to go?" Chuck asked.

  "I will be in a minute. I just need more time to take this in."

  "Then take more time, but not too much," Chuck said. He put a hand on Justin's shoulder and smiled. "We have a whole new world to explore."

  CHAPTER 10: JUSTIN

  Wednesday, April 18, 1900

  Instead of rushing to the train station, the Townsends took their time. They hopped the first trolley they saw and rode through Los Angeles for more than two hours before jumping off on Broadway near the corner of Fifth to inspect the city on foot.

  Justin watched his father crane his neck to get a better look at the tops of nearby buildings. With large awnings, iron-framed windows, and ornate brick facades, the four- to six-story structures seemed as out of place in tear-it-down-and-build-it-up L.A. as the colorful Victorian mansion they had left.

  "Shouldn't we start walking toward the station?" Justin asked. "According to the schedule the professor gave us, the last train east leaves at three thirty."

  "We'll get there," Chuck said. "I just want to spend a little more time exploring the town. It's not every day you see L.A. like this."

  Justin couldn't disagree. The Los Angeles he knew was nothing like the one in front of him. The city he knew was glitzy, noisy, and covered wall-to-wall in asphalt, steel, and glass. The one in front of him looked like a movie set in Burbank.

  People riding horses and bicycles shared the wide, dusty streets with electric streetcars and automobiles with wire-spoke wheels and hard rubber tires. On the sidewalks, men with pocket watches and handlebar mustaches walked with women in frilly dresses and feathered hats.

  Justin watched a man help a woman out of a buggy and then slowly returned his attention to his father. He watched Chuck intently as he studied an imposing building across the street.

  "What's so special about that one?" Justin asked.

  "I think that's the Examiner building – or at least it will be," Chuck said. "William Randolph Hearst didn't start the paper until 1903, but I'm almost certain he started it here. I could work in a place like that."

  Justin smiled as his father commented on yet another structure. Chuck Townsend, amateur historian, had been a nonstop tour guide since the two had left the Bell estate.

  "Hey, Dad, check it out," Justin said. He pointed to THE 5-CENT STORE sign atop a nearby building. "Want to see what we can get for a nickel?"

  Chuck laughed.

  "Maybe later. We'll have lots of opportunities to shop for bargains. Let's walk over to the next street and work our way toward the depot. I want to see a few things before we leave."

  "OK."

  Justin followed Chuck around the block to Spring Street, where more old buildings, vintage vehicles, and people in Victorian attire awaited. For another forty minutes, they wandered around and got their fill of a city that hadn't existed, at least in their time, for more than a c
entury.

  Though Justin was eager to see the rest of the country, he understood why his father wanted to linger in Los Angeles. There was a lot to see. No matter where he turned, he could see a city in transition and a society on the move.

  Justin marveled at the sight of not only the imposing structures around him but also the simpler things, such as a telephone pay station on Spring Street. For a princely sum of fifty cents a minute, he could call a friend in San Francisco. For half that price, he could get a haircut and a shave at countless establishments with red-and-white-striped poles out front.

  When Chuck finally got his fill of Old Los Angeles, he put a hand on his son's shoulder, nodded, and said, "Let's go." Thirty minutes and ten blocks later, the two walked up to one of the most awe-inspiring buildings Justin had ever seen.

  "What the hell is that?" Justin asked.

  "That, son, is the Arcade Depot."

  "It looks like a hangar for the Spruce Goose."

  Justin took a moment to take stock of his surroundings. Everything about the station was impressive, from the gargantuan palm tree that guarded the entrance to a wooden train shed that was nearly two football fields long. Turrets on the corners of the Romanesque structure gave the gray-and-red building a fortress-like look.

  "Do you like it?" Chuck asked.

  "I love it. I never knew this place existed."

  "That's because it was torn down in 1914. This property has had several makeovers."

  "How do you know all this?" Justin asked.

  "I did some homework while you were saving lives at the pool last week," Chuck said. He smiled. "You didn't think I was going to lead you blindly into the past, did you?"

  Justin sighed.

  "No. I guess not."

  "Come on," Chuck said. "Let's go in."

  Justin lifted his tightly packed suitcase and followed his father into the station, where he found more impressive sights. The first appeared from above. Dozens of massive skylights, suspended from an arched ceiling ninety feet overhead, allowed daylight to flood the cavernous shed and brighten an otherwise dreary space. The ceiling conjured images of 2016 and more than a few airport terminals and shopping malls.