Lost in Time(48)

As quietly as possible, Adeline returned to her room and lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Why did Daniele want to operate on the Absolom convicts? What would that accomplish? Was she trying to send them to her father’s timeline? If so, why? The people sentenced to Absolom—besides her father—were dangerous individuals. Killers. Mass murderers. Psychopaths. If one came into contact with her father—even if they were the last two people on Earth—what would happen?

The larger question was why Daniele would even want to send them there? There was only one rational explanation: to kill Adeline’s father.





THIRTY-THREE


Outside the cave, Sam crouched, a spear in his hand, waiting as the ground shook.

The earthquake came in waves. Every time Sam thought it was over, the ground rumbled again.

By morning, the world was quiet again, as though the disturbance had simply been night terrors. But the damage was real.

In the forest, the canopy was broken. Trees were felled as though a giant bowling ball had rolled through. Sam’s small cave was also wrecked, the entrance nearly covered in crumbled rock.

The world around him popped and creaked as fallen trees and branches surrendered to gravity.

Sam set about gathering his morning meal of earthworms, but in the forest he found the fern fronds dry, the rainwater from yesterday’s storm shaken to the ground. The dinosaur skull rain barrel had also capsized in the night.

One thing was abundant: wood. In short order, Sam had a fire going. Using a tooth from a seelo skeleton, he sharpened another spear, replacing the one that had impaled the crazy man (and was still buried inside him). Sam hadn’t mustered the courage to check on his body. He had bigger fish to fry. And frying fish was exactly the thing on his mind. The thought of it made his mouth water.

The man’s attack—and the Earthquake—had taught him how dangerous being trapped here was.

He needed to make a new camp, one by the stream, where he had access to fresh water at all times, and food, assuming he could learn to fish.

He needed to move. The thought of moving brought back a memory, of moving from San Francisco to Absolom City, of taking a risk, of moving on with his life.

In the memory, he stood in Nora’s office, staring at the posters on the wall: one of Einstein, his hair standing on end, the other with a UFO hanging in the air and the words I WANT TO BELIEVE printed in white across the trees under it.

“I hate moving,” Nora said.

“Same,” Sam replied.

Nora began chewing the end of a pen. “It’s Dave’s stuff. Even after all these years, I can’t bring myself to get rid of it.”

“I know what you mean. Sarah’s things are still in boxes. I tried to give some to her sister, but she didn’t want them. Sarah would want me to donate them to Goodwill or a women’s shelter, but I can’t bring myself to do it.”

“It feels like you’re getting rid of them, the memories too.”

Sam nodded. “Yes. It feels wrong. I keep telling myself Adeline will want those clothes—because her mother made some of them—but deep down…”

“You’re hanging on to her.”

“I am.”

“Me too. I can’t throw Dave’s things away. Or sell them. I donated his guitar and video games, but I regretted it that night. I was sick over it. But I also can’t take them to the new house in A-City. It’s like bringing his ghost with me or something. And I can’t imagine packing his stuff up. Going through it again.”

“Let’s make a deal.”

Nora looked up at him. “I warn you: I’m a weak negotiator.”

“Luckily, so am I. Tell you what: we’ll do it together. I’ll come over and help you pack. We’ll take everything to A-City. But not to our houses. We’ll rent a storage unit. Two of them. So that they’ll be with us, there when we’re ready to sort it out.”

“I like that plan.”

That night, they packed Nora’s deceased husband’s things into boxes. They made two groups—those bound for the storage unit and those Nora couldn’t bear to part with, even if they were locked up a few blocks away. The box that would go to her new home was filled with pictures and notebooks with songs Dave had written, a cheap pair of plastic sunglasses he had once bought on vacation, scanned boarding passes from their honeymoon, and a hundred other things that, taken together, wouldn’t bring a nickel at a pawn shop. But as she packed the items in the small box, they brought a slow release of tears from her.

Sam thought that separating the things that represented Dave from the items he had merely owned was cathartic for Nora. She was getting rid of her husband’s things, but she was keeping him in her heart, holding on to things that were so uniquely him.

They ordered Chinese and drank wine from a box, and despite working for hours, Sam thought they had probably said only a dozen words that night. It wasn’t awkward, though sorting through the boxes was a difficult, emotional task. It was simply that it was that easy for the two of them to be together. They were good at working together. Sam knew that. Absolom had proved that. But as the night wore on, he realized they were good at simply being together, when the work was simply their lives—and their lives shared a common thread, a painful, rare one, that few would understand. They were linked. That night, for the first time, Sam felt that link. He wondered if she did too.