Terrible Me

"We need to get to a quieter area, follow me."

  I stay close, mimicking Rebecca's movements. Left leg. Right leg, then crouching down. The loud blast continue nearly missing us. I bend low, ducking behind another car. My ears begin ringing from the loud blasts. I have to keep moving, left leg, right leg, nearly there.

  "We'll have to make a run for the mountains." Rebecca says, pointing in front of her.

  I look ahead. Stretched in front of us stands a large mountain range, peaks and valleys nearly divide the landscape in half.

  "I don't think we will make it."

  "We have to. Just run as fast as you can, stay low to the ground and don't look back. We run on the count of three. One... two... three."

  It’s marathon day. I’m at the starting line. The gun releases us with a loud bang. The race begins. My eyes are wide with energy. My hair blows under the wind. I look down. Is that sand? I am not a runner. I am not in a marathon. I duck down trying to stay low to the ground. I sprint, pushing myself faster. Sweats dripping down my body. Blasts ring out next to us. My muscles cramp and I push my legs harder, diving for safety, longing for security. I slide over the edge, into the valley. I look to my right. I’m alone. I look to the left, beginning to panic that Rebecca’s not with me. She lies next to me. Breathing hard, her face reddened. I release a sigh of relief, regaining control.

  "Rebecca, what is going on?" I say. "We didn't really just go back in time, did we?"

  "We did."

  "Are you kidding me! You took me back in time to the middle of a battle field. We could have been killed. All for what. So you can have some petty revenge or have a new life. You can't just boss people around to do your bidding."

  "I've counted up the cost and what we are doing is worth everything."

  "You put my life in danger, not just yours. Have you thought that maybe I don't want to help you. I don't care about your problems. I don't want to die today because of you."

  "I really only needed you to get me here, so if you would like to venture on your own, be my guest. But you'll need the sundial to get back to the future."

  “You're insane. I can't believe I've been forced into your silly game. I just want to get away from you. Don't I have a choice?"

  "Not unless you want to be stuck in the past for the rest of your life. Anyway, we need to keep moving, it's not safe to be in the same place for too long."

  I follow her down into the valley. The treacherous mountain range slopes down, making steep sides. One wrong move, one slip and you could fall, sliding all the way to the bottom. We climb upward. Rebecca says we have to get to the other side of the mountain by nightfall. The hot sun beats down on us. My hair sticks to my forehead, the sweat dripping down, drenching my shirt. I'm just glad I don't hear any gunfire.

  "Isn't there a law, like the natural order of things, that you can't change things in the past? Doesn't it mess with the space continuum or something?"

  "I don't know. I know I have to do this."

  "What is it?" I say, grabbing onto her shoulder. "Just tell me why we're here."

  She turns to face me.

  "Fine. My fiancé, well, used-to-be fiancé. He died fighting this war. I need to save him. I can't live without him. I didn't want you to come with me because you felt bad for me. I don't need anyone to feel bad for me, I just need to save him."

  "Why didn't you tell me you wanted to save your fiancé? I might've understood. Maybe been a little more reasonable."

  "Are you kidding, Molly? You lived by stealing from others, taking what wasn't yours. You only knew how to help yourself. I was trying to plan a way to steal the artifact myself, but you stole it first. Finding you was more difficult than trying to steal the artifact. I wish I could have avoided all of this."

  "I'm sorry Rebecca, maybe your right, I wouldn't have helped. I want to help you now. I think the detox changed me. Before, all I cared about was myself. How I could get the next high. Now I care about helping other people. The detox may have brought my moral conscience back to the surface."

  "I had the same feelings when I detoxed. That's why I chose to become a detective. Maybe, I could make up for all the years I didn't care."

  "Do you think we can really save your boyfriend in the middle of a war zone?"

  "His vehicle was hit by a IED on a dirt road over this mountain pass. When they exited the vehicle they were overrun by Afghan rebels. If I can stop the car before the grenade hits, I can save him. I just have to convince him to leave."

  "But what about everyone else that was in the vehicle with him? Are you going to explain to all of them that you're here from the future to save them?"

  "I guess I'll have to. I don't know, I just know that I need to save them."

  "Wait a minute," I say. "Let's think about this. You can't just wander around the past, telling people who you are and changing everything, we need some kind of plan."

  "I've been thinking about this for years," she says. "Ever since I heard about the sundial."

  May, 2013

  Six months had passed since Jacob died. I was a mess. I would sit in the middle of our apartment just recreating each moment I remembered with him. His laughter, his smile, the way his upper lip crinkled when he was laughing, the night he proposed. I was afraid of forgetting him, making him a distant memory. I didn't want him to go away, but I couldn't stay in the past either. Each step I made to move forward felt like I was ripping a piece of him from my heart.

  I dragged myself back to the precinct. I had to do something to get away from our apartment. The captain was easy on me, he gave me small-time robbers to arrest. One robber I arrested was staying on the other side of town. They had gotten the hit from a drug dealer that came in earlier that day.

  I found the robber in his apartment; he was clutching a picture of the sundial. Hair frizzed and frayed, eyes searching wildly, skin pale, and mouth wide in anticipation. He looked as if he was mad. He turned when I walked in, unconcerned at the fact that a detective was in his apartment, gun pointed straight at him.

  "Did you know," he began. "That the first sundials were simply two stakes stuck in the ground?"

  "Yes," I said.

  "But what you didn't know was that a sundial could take you back in time."

  "No one can go back in time. Stop messing around, I'm taking you in for stealing jewelry from Al's."

  I pulled him up to his feet and the picture fell from his hand. I picked it up from the floor to get a better look. The paper was old and worn with time, the edges ripped and torn.

  "Where did you get this?" I asked.

  "Someone gave it to me. I've been looking for it, Mulhadi's Sundial," he said. "Somehow it can take you back in time."

  I slipped the paper into my jacket pocket. I wanted to take a closer look at the sundial. I was willing to believe anything that brought me closer to saving Jacob. I couldn't just let my chance sit in the precinct's evidence room. I brought the robber back to the precinct. He had traces of heroin in his system and the police blamed his talk about the sundial and me stealing the picture on a heroine high. They thought that he had been taking heroin for so long that his brain was just mush from drugs.

  Four Years Earlier

  When I went, after I leave the thief in custody, I started searching for Mulhadi's Sundial. He lived in the 1600s. He was a governor whose wife had been shot while he was out late at a meeting one night. He never forgave himself for her death. He became obsessed with going back in time to save her. He lost his position and everyone thought he went mad. He would spend his entire day in his house fidgeting with this sundial. Months later townspeople went to check on him and he was nowhere to be found. They never found out what happened to him or even uncovered a body. All they found was this sundial in the center of his living room. Some say that he had done it, gone back in time, but didn't know how to get back. Others say he died of a broken heart, but no one really knows what happened.

  I found out that Mul
hadi's Sundial was being kept at the Wainwright National Museum in Westville, California. I asked for a transfer and the captain gave me one, probably thinking I needed a change of scenery. I wanted to start a new life. After I made my trip to California, I worked at the precinct for a while, just trying to be a good cop. I knew my old captain most likely relayed my previous theft history and I wanted to make a good impression, blend in. I made several key arrests over the two years I spent there.

  Then you swooped in and stole Mulhadi's Sundial before I could take the sundial myself. I told the captain that I felt like my personal mission was to track you down. I had heard about your small thefts among jewelry shops and retail stores. I never thought you would be a threat to what I needed. I had to spend two years trying to find you.

  I spent those two years thinking about what I would do if I really could be reunited with Jacob again. What I would do if I could just talk to him one more time. I knew I would have to come to Afghanistan to save him. While I was searching for you I found one soldier that survived the attack. I told him I needed to know exactly what happened in order to get closure. He pointed out on a map the exact road Jacob had died. He explained the scene to me. The loss, the devastation."

 

 

  7 Changing time

  I look over at Rebecca, standing on the mountain side, for a moment. She gazes out at the twilight. Her black hair gently lifting with the breeze. I wonder what her life would have been like without tragedy.

  We arrive at the bottom of the mountain pass at night fall. Stretched out in front of us lies a long, winding dirt road.

  "This is it," Rebecca says. "The road the soldier pointed out to me. Tomorrow morning at ten, they will be attacked. Let’s walk a few miles down the road. We want to distract them before they're hit by the IED."

  We walk until we can no longer see our hands out in front of us and lay down in a valley to avoid being seen.

  "What if we distract them so they get out of the Hummer," I suggest. "That way they don't see us, but they still avoid going forward on the road and getting hit by the grenade."

  "How would we do that?" Rebecca asks.

  "Well there are a bunch of these rocks lying around. We could throw them at the windshield. They'll probably think some kids need help or they may get out to see what caused the problem."

  "That could work, but what if we miss? Let’s line the road with rocks as well.”

  “That’s a great idea. We could also take some of these smaller rocks laying around and spell out mines. That way if we miss they’ll see the sign and stop.”

  We sleep for what feels like five minutes and wake to the sun rising over the mountainside. Rebecca and I begin gathering a bunch of rocks to throw at the Hummer.

  "I know I made you come here," Rebecca says, "but I'm happy that I am not alone."

  "For the first time in my life. I'm glad I'm able to help." I say. "Can you just promise not to lock me in a cell for a week again?"

  "Yes, but admit something first, you feel better now that you've detoxed."

  " It's nice not to have my life controlled by an addiction. The longing to steal all the time. Knowing I was a terrible person for what I was doing, but not being able to stop myself. I had no control over my own body."

  "Addictions can lure you into their trap and they never let you leave. You have to claw your way out kicking and screaming."

  "I don't think I was kicking and screaming, but I definitely felt like I was hit by a truck."

  "Yeah, that's a good way to describe detoxing."

  I look down at our pile of rocks. We have about twenty rocks the size of tennis balls. The soldiers will know we're here. Then, we pile more rocks across the dirt road. The soldiers will have no choice but to drive over them. Lastly, we take some of the smaller rocks and spell out the word MINES, in big letters. If all else fails they’ll read the word MINES and stop.

  "All right, they should be coming this way any moment now. We'll throw the rocks at the hummer until they stop the car, then we run for the mountain pass."

  "Okay, but how will we know we've done enough? How do we know if we saved him?"

  "I guess we don't. We have to go back to the future to find out."

  "How do we get back?"

  "We have to visualize the future, the way we left, where we were before we went in the past. Going back to the future takes a lot less power than going back in time."

  "I wonder why?"

  "I don't know, maybe because you're rebalancing order or something. Who knows how this weird supernatural stuff works."

  "True."

  "Look, do you see that dust cloud over there? That must be them, coming this way."

  I grab a rock in my hand. They're too heavy to take more than one at a time. I position myself crouched behind a rock, squatting down, giving myself leverage to throw. I toss the rock, pushing my weight into the forward momentum and hear the crash of the rock hitting the hood. I look next to me to see Rebecca reaching for another rock, and I grab one too. The rocks seem like pebbles to the hummer and they keep driving. I stop Rebecca and we watch as the soldiers run over the rocks in the road. They stop the car and I see the doors opening. They look down at the word MINES and quickly get back into the car. Rebecca pulls me forward and whispers, "Run!"

  We run up the mountain pass, my thighs burning with each step. I look behind me to see the soldiers searching for the cause of all the noise. Before I see where I'm going, I crash into Rebecca, knocking her to the ground.

  "Why did you stop?" I say.

  "I was far enough away; they won't see us."

  Instinctively she reaches out her hand, as if his could reach all the way to her. I know then which soldier belongs to her. He's the one driving the Hummer.

  "It's been so long, I was beginning to forget his walk, his smile, his laugh."

  "Well let’s hope this worked and he'll be there when we return."

  "Maybe I could just go down and see him."

  "You can't; we have to let him do the rest on his own. We will see him when we get back."

  We watch the Hummer turn around on the road and head back to base. Our plan worked perfectly.

  "All right, let’s get back." I say.

  Rebecca takes the sundial out of her pocket. I place my hand over hers. I close my eyes, imagining I'm in my apartment. Back in 2014, pushing my body to where we belong.

  When I open my eyes I see my bedroom walls. We came back. Rebecca stands in front of me, looking around nervously.

  "How will I know he's back? How will I know we changed the past?"

  "I don't know. I guess go home and see if he's there. Wait, is that a wedding band on your finger?"

  "Yes! The sundial worked; we changed the past. Thanks, Emerald Thief," she says, wrapping her arms around my neck and hugging me. "I have to get back home."

  "Go," I say, "I'm glad all your dreams are coming true."

  She turns, her smile lifting ear to ear, and runs out the front door.

  8 Changes

  Days have passed and I haven't seen or heard from Rebecca at all. I'm lonely in my apartment. Now that I'm not stealing I don't have much to occupy my time with. I decide to go down to the precinct; maybe I can find her there. I need someone to talk to; I need answers about what has happened. Questions swarm through my mind as I walk down the street. I only live two blocks away from the precinct. The air feels warm and I loosen my scarf to let the cool October breeze refresh me. The afternoon is quiet; I seem to be the only one out right now. My boots click as they hit the pavement, echoing off the skyscrapers that surround me. Usually I find the silence welcoming, but lately only questions seem to linger in my mind. What did we change when we went back in time? Did we really save Rebecca's fiancé and, if so, how did that affect everyone else?

  I know I don't know much about time travel -- heck I didn't even think it was real. Although, everything I've ever read has said not t
o change time or there are consequences. The stories are embedded in my brain, shouting to me that I've done something wrong. The past shouldn't be messed with.

  I feel like I have Stockholm syndrome. Here I am sympathizing, looking for the same person that locked me in a jail cell for a week straight without any remorse or reason for what she had done. She just needed me for her experiment. But she helped me; I never would have been able to detox without her. I didn't even know you could detox from stealing like detoxing from a drug. What can these emerald eyes do to me? She's the only one, the only one with answers to these burning questions in my mind. I never thought of the possibility of knowing another person that has struggled with the same gift I have, that has had to fight the evil within every day, deny the addiction and rise above. Plus she's a detective. Maybe there is hope for me, maybe underneath these emerald eyes, underneath the Emerald Thief, lies the ability to love and care for people, to take their feelings into account.

  I open the door to the precinct and everything looks the same. Although I didn't see much of the inside except for my jail cell. Large cylinder lights hang from the ceiling, making the room bright. Desks divide the large room into smaller pieces. At the front desk, sits a curvy, red-headed woman, her eyes pointed downward. She has a pretty face and a slim nose sitting between two rosy cheeks.

  "Can I help you?" she says, looking up at me with light brown eyes.

  "Yes, I'm looking for a detective Rebecca Stilwell. Is she in today?"