TT – REWIND

I was home on another lonely Wednesday (they are all Wednesdays here; 21 so far). I was reading Roger’s iPad (what an awesome, beautiful device!). Of course, I was reading Roger’s Archived stories. Ten years worth (why do I not remember writing any of this? Aren’t Roger and I supposed to have the same timeline, somewhen in the recent past?). I particularly enjoyed “Cathy and Mike.” But it was the ending that caught my eye.

“I could do that. The guy who saved him could be me. I wonder? . . .

– – – – – – – – –

10.9.8.7.6.5.4.3.2.1. *

Mike was startled to see a shadow fall across his face! Someone was standing next to his car. He had just spotted the road to Cathy and was about to turn across the road toward it, when I appeared next to him.

“Who are you?” This was all he could get out of his mouth, in the sudden apprehension of the moment.

“You going to Mac’s Café? I need a lift.” I said.

A semi sailed by at that moment. Its wind swirled the dust around the car. Mike caught a bit of it in his eye.

But I was around the car and in the passenger seat while Mike was still rubbing his eyes. “Thanks for the ride.” I stated, matter-of-factly.

Mike didn’t get much of a look at me, but what he saw likey made him think it must have been alright. I looked normal enough.

Mike looked carefully both ways, before going across the highway and onto the newly paved road, leading to Mac’s.

“What’s your name?” Mike asked me.

“My name’s not important. You won’t even remember me later today.”

Mike and I drove on in silence. Soon we were at the café.

“Here you are. Hope you can get where your goin’” Mike said as he got out of the car and ran into the café without another word.

I got out and looked around. There were cars parked up in front of the café, and several over at the garage, but there was no one at all outside. This was as it should be, for time had literally stopped. I aimed my device at Mike’s car, and it suddenly was not there anymore. I aimed at the spot again, and a new yellow Mustang appeared in its place. This one was indeed new, since it was the year for it, with a real license and registration in Mike’s name, but without the second-hand digital radio and CDs from the future.

(Believe me, making this happen was far more work than I ever could have imagined. It took the theft of some midnight bank money, the purchase of a new car. The placement of that car near this moment, and finding a way to get rid of his old car too. Then there were the keys. More than that, it took forever for me to even find where this boy was, out on that highway, at that moment, let alone Cathy’s time. Phew!)

I touched my collector, and time began to flow forward again. People began to appear around the premises, and I walked off around to the side of the garage, to use the wall in private.

I spoke into the collector I carried, pretending to be Time Cop. “Mike is stuck here now, and he will lead the life he would have led with Catherine, had he not died back on that highway in his own time. He will have some disorientation not being able to bring her home to mom, as he planned, but he will be alright. Catherine will believe his story, but no one else will. Soon, he will settle in, and the child that she carries will take up enough of their time so that this anomaly will be forgotten. The timeline has been restored.” (They write him out; I write him back in.) If I could find out what causes these desert portals to be so unstable, perhaps I can prevent more of these crises from happening, and my job here will be at an end. Roger1 signing off.”

Who said time travel could not do some good for someone?

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