Time Travelers Never Die - Jack McDevitt [39]
A call came in. Apparently the results from the scan. The cop listened, nodded, listened some more. Said okay.
He looked at Shel. “Why don’t we go over and say hello?”
“Okay. That would be fine.”
But they’d gone only a couple of steps when the upstairs lights went out.
THEY eventually let him go. They asked more questions about the converter but seemed satisfied with his story that it was experimental electronic gear that he was developing for Carbolite. He was advised not to indulge in “undue loitering.” And with that it was over.
But his father was gone, and he had to start over.
Well, to hell with the paradox issue. He’d go back and try again, but this time he wouldn’t wait around. When Shel arrived, the other Shel, he’d walk right up to him, and when his father opened the door, they’d both be standing there. Hi, Dad. You didn’t come back the second time either.
HE set the converter for 10:59 P.M. He glanced over at the hedge on Parvin Street, which, when he arrived, would be shielding a third Adrian Shelborne. He took a deep breath and pressed the black button.
The trees and the driveway began to fade. In a moment, he knew, they would come back and only the time would have changed. But the vaguely churning mix of concrete and vegetation hung on. The driveway hung on. Faded out. Came back. Then everything went dark.
He was having trouble breathing.
He tried to step out, get clear, but there was nothing solid underfoot. He sucked in water. Began choking.
The world filled with water.
Panic seized him. He kicked and headed up.
His lungs screamed for air.
Then he broke out into the night, gasping and coughing. It was dark, no moon, no stars, nothing. He rode up the side of a wave and down the other. Water flowed over him, and he went under again.
He got to the surface and saw ocean. Fighting panic, he felt desperately at his pockets. Yes! The converter was still there. He dragged it out and hit the black button. If nothing else, it should put him back in his own town house.
More water washed over him.
The converter was dark. No response. No power. Damned thing. It had gotten wet. He tried to jam it back into a pocket and missed. It slipped away.
Not that it mattered.
He rode up the side of a wave and back down. Ahead, a light moved slowly from right to left. But it looked a thousand miles away. He turned, looked back, and almost screamed with pleasure: An endless band of lights cast their glow into the sky. A shoreline.
Thank God.
He got out of his shoes, salvaged the wallet from his jacket, and let the jacket float away. Forty-five minutes later, the current carried him in. He stumbled half-f rozen onto a beach.
Piers extended into the ocean on either side. An illuminated boardwalk ran along the edge of the shore. He staggered through the sand, found some wooden steps, stumbled up them, and collapsed.
THE doctors pronounced him okay, except for a touch of hypothermia. He looked around and saw two of them, and a couple of cops, both women. He was in a hospital room. The police wanted to know what he’d been doing in the ocean. “My boat sank,” he said.
“We didn’t have any emergency calls tonight. Didn’t you have a radio?” The cop couldn’t believe anybody could be so dumb. She was a young woman, not especially attractive, but okay. Brown hair cut military style. If she could have smiled, she’d have looked a lot better.
“It wasn’t working.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. Happens all the time. “Is anybody else out there? Were you alone?”
“I was alone.”
She was examining his driver’s license. “Where are you staying?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Where are you staying? You are staying in Atlantic City, right?”
“Um. One of the hotels.”
“Which one?”
“I forget.”
She turned back to the doctor. “You going to keep him here tonight?”
“We thought it would be a good idea. Until we’re sure he’s okay.”
She took the doctor aside and spoke quietly to him. He nodded a couple of times. If he gives you any trouble, Doc, let us know, okay? Then they both walked out.