The Strange Affair of Spring Heeled Jack - Mark Hodder [132]
"I get the picture," said Beresford. "So what?"
"Now move forward to 2202, my fortieth birthday. I jump back from that far end of the line to 1840 and I kill the Original Oxford before then jumping to the start of the line, where we are now."
"The present moment," offered the marquess.
"Yes. Now, at 1840, the line has been cut. The stretch of it containing all the Original Oxford descendants is no longer joined to the part of the line that we are on. It still exists, perhaps, but not for us. For us, everything after the death of the Original Oxford must be written anew. There's nothing there for me to jump forward into!"
"But you went to 1877. That's beyond the cut!"
"Yes, it is, and I've been puzzling over that all night. I think I know what happened. I think I jumped to the end of my natural life span."
"I don't understand you."
"Henry, if I remain in this time, by 1877 I will be eighty years old. Friday March 9, 1877, I am certain, will be, barring accidents, the end of my days."
"Do you mean to suggest that you can travel within your own allotted time, as it were, but to go beyond that you need a future which, for you, has already been established?"
"Yes, exactly."
"To all intents and purposes, then, you seem to have wiped yourself out of existence. But why, Edward? Why did you kill this man?"
"I'd rather not go into that. Like I said, it was an accident."
"So go and prevent it. If you can travel as far as 1877, then 1840 remains well within reach. Go and stop the death of the Original Oxford."
"Henry, don't you see? I'm here; I killed him; no one stopped me; therefore if I try, I will surely fail!"
"The complexities of time travel are far beyond me," answered Beresford, "but in the future you were alive and invented a time suit. That cannot have been possible if someone killed your ancestor. Yet here you are. It seems to me that just because you perceive that things occurred a certain way doesn't mean you can't go back and alter them."
Edward gazed into space.
"Yes," he whispered thoughtfully. "Yes, I suppose that's true. It's worth a try!"
He sprang to his feet.
"I have to work on the suit, Henry. There's damage to the helmet and the control unit requires further attention!"
"For pity's sake, man, rest first! You look as if you've not slept all night!"
"I haven't! There's no time for sleep!" barked Oxford, crossing to the table where his gear was laid out.
Beresford shook his head.
"Of all people," he said quietly, "I would have thought you'd have all the time in the world."
Three years later, Edward Oxford hit the ground running.
He was farther away from the other two Oxfords than he'd planned and, as he raced past a policeman, he realised that he was too late, as well; the two men were already locked together; the pistol was already raised toward the queen.
"Stop, Edward!" he bellowed.
Suddenly a bolt of energy flashed out of the control unit and into the ground. He doubled over in pain as the charge ripped through him and looked up again just as the pistol went off and Queen Victoria's head sprayed blood.
The monarch fell backward out of her carriage.
The Oxfords wrestled. The Original tripped and went down, his head smacking onto the railings.
It was me, thought the time traveller. The distraction; the shout and the flash. I looked up at myself here on the hill and in doing so moved my ancestor's arm. I caused the pistol to point at her head!
"No!" he groaned. "No!"
The control unit let loose a shower of sparks.
He turned.
The policeman had almost caught up with him.
Oxford sprang over the constable's head and landed back in 1837.
"I can't stop it!" he told Henry de La