Time Travelers Never Die - Jack McDevitt [115]
The curtains were drawn in the town house. The garage was open, as it had been when he’d arrived to see the results of the fire.
He stood watching, trying to make up his mind. He could save Shel, but he knew that hadn’t happened. Knew he hadn’t gone in and told him what was coming. But did that really mean he couldn’t do it?
If he brought Shel back, how would they explain it? He was officially dead now. Hopelessly, definitely dead. Identified by his dental records.
The experiments had scared him. Plan on taking the book out of the briefcase, and bad things happen.
The overhang wasn’t providing much protection. Another car rolled past. At one of the houses across the street, a door opened, and he heard voices.
“Good-bye, Babe.”
“See you tomorrow, Lenny.”
It took another minute or two before a guy with an umbrella appeared. He came in Dave’s direction, stopped, and got into a car. The headlights came on, he backed into the street, turned the wheel, and splashed away.
Dave stared at the downstairs lights. There was no hurry. He didn’t need to make up his mind at that moment. There was no reason he couldn’t wait and think things out. He could come back whenever he chose.
HE bought a couple of books on the subject of time, Edgar Mathews’s Time in a Bottle, and Rice Bakar’s All the Time in the World. He couldn’t make much sense out of either. What he needed was Time Travel for Dummies. But both books seemed to be saying that whenever multiple possibilities exist, the universe splits, and all possibilities occur. So there really cannot be a paradox. Cannot be a loop. If he were to rescue Shel, it would simply create a new universe in which Shel had survived the fire, and that was all there’d be to it.
So you plan to rescue a friend, and it causes a heart attack. Who could believe that?
What he really wanted to do was to go back and put the question to Michael Shelborne again. But he couldn’t without letting him know what had happened. And there was no way he could bring himself to do that. At least not yet. Maybe later, when his own emotions had subsided.
In the end, he did nothing.
CHAPTER 34
“I took no pleasure in his death, Trainor.” “I know that, Achilles, but it could not have mattered to Troilus.” “Yet his blood—” “—Is on your hands.” “So much death to preserve the pride of Menelaus.” “Indeed. But take heart. He died defending those he loved. You could have given no greater gift.” “Nonsense. I could have brought a cask of wine.” “Yes. But let us pretend it is not so.”
—SOPHOCLES, ACHILLES
DAVE was outside raking leaves when a black car pulled up.
Two people, a man and a woman, were sitting inside. They opened the doors, got out, and started up the walkway.
The woman was taller, and more substantial, somehow, than the man. She held out a set of credentials. “Dr. Dryden?” she said. “I’m Lieutenant Lake.” She smiled, a neutral gesture that purveyed no warmth. “This is Sergeant Howard. Could we have a few minutes of your time?”
“Sure,” Dave said, wondering what it was about.
Sergeant Howard was a wiry, angular man who came up to Dave’s shoulders. He had dark skin and features screwed up into a permanent frown. His expression implied he was being nice even though Dave was probably guilty of something.
He opened the front door, and they all went inside. Lake sat down on the sofa while Howard shoved his hands into his pockets and took to wandering around the room, inspecting books, prints, computer, whatever. “Can I get you some coffee?” Dave asked.
“No, thanks,” said Lake. Howard managed a smile but shook his head no. The lieutenant crossed her legs and leaned forward. “I wanted first to offer my condolences on the death of Dr. Shelborne. I understand he was a close friend of yours?”
“That’s correct,” Dave said. “We’ve known each other a long time.”
She nodded, produced a leather-bound notebook, opened it, and wrote something down. “Did you have a professional relationship?”
“No. We were just friends.”
She seemed to expect him to elaborate.