Authors: Steve Howrie
Tags: #time travel, #hitman, #ancient egypt, #world trade center, #princess diana, #the future, #ancient china, #pyramids of egypt, #qin dynasty, #boskops
Time Leap
Time
Leap.
Fiction.
Copyright © Steve Howrie
2014
The right of Steve Howrie to be
identified as the Author of this work has been asserted by him in
accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of
this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system,
or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior
written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief
quotations in printed or electronic reviews.
*****
Contents:
One
(Heathrow Airport, London, 11
September 2014).
It all started with a
business trip to New York…
“
Thank you sir
– and your belt please.”
I removed my black
leather belt and placed it in a tray with my wallet, laptop and
mobile phone (a birthday gift from Niki). Then a thought: I really
should switch off my phone – it’s safer. You never know what these
security scanners can do to electronic equipment. And that’s when I
had my life–changing moment. Niki is always telling me I’m clumsy,
and on this occasion she was dead right. As I hurriedly retrieved
the phone to turn it off, it slipped from my fingers, hit the hard
floor and fell into three pieces – phone, battery and
cover.
Oh shit! I thought, which
came out as “Sorry” as I picked up the bits. There was quite a
queue building up behind me now and I felt rather
flustered.
“
Just give me
that sir,” the official said calmly, as if this happens every day.
I complied. She carefully added the phone to my tray and fed the
whole lot into the security scanner.
Next, the body check. I
wanted to say something funny like, ‘You’ll find nothing on me –
the drugs are in my main suitcase,’ but thought better of it. The
woman indicated the check was over, and I collected my laptop,
wallet, belt and parts of my phone. I hate airports.
Finding a seat in the
departure lounge, I sighed deeply, reassembled the phone and
switched it on. Then the World suddenly ‘wobbled.’ I looked outside
and noticed a large 737 American Airlines plane docking with the
terminal. I guessed that was the cause of the wobble. This was the
aircraft I’d be boarding in about thirty minutes time, or so I
thought. I went to buy a newspaper.
The
Independent – that’s my paper – sums me up I guess. I went straight
to the financial news as usual. That’s strange, I thought, looking
at the main headline: ‘
Biggest US tax cuts
since 1981 implemented by President Bush.
..’ George Bush? I looked at the date on the paper: 11
September 2001. It was a collectors’ item! I returned to the
newsstand.
“
Excuse me,
it’s very interesting to read what happened thirteen years ago, but
not so useful. Can you give me today’s edition please? The blonde
girl looked surprised and studied the paper.”
“
This
is
today’s paper… Tuesday
September eleventh.”
“
Yeah, but
look at the year!”
“
Two thousand
and one,” she said.
“
Exactly –
it’s ancient!”
She looked
puzzled. “This
is
today’s date… September eleventh, 2001. Are you all
right?”
I looked at
the other newspapers – and they all had the same date. I walked
slowly back to my seat and checked the date on the newspaper again.
What was going on? I pulled out my phone and noticed it showed
exactly the same date as all the newspapers:
11
th
September, 2001. How could this be? I put the date on the
phone back to the present, and again I felt this ‘wobble.’
Something had changed. I looked out of the large airport windows:
the 737 that arrived a few minutes ago had vanished. I went back to
find the newsstand. It looked very different now, and the young
woman who served me before had gone. I spoke to an older lady in
blue–rimmed glasses.
“
Look, there’s
something very strange going on… I don’t know if it’s a joke or a
special promotion or what, but please tell me I’m not going
crazy.”
“
What’s the
problem?” she asked.
“
It’s this
newspaper – it’s all the newspapers – they’re seriously out of
date. They’ve been misprinted or something.”
“
Let me see…”
She studied the paper. “No, that’s definitely today’s issue –
eleventh of September.”
“
Yes, that’s
what the other girl said…”
“
What other
girl?”
“
The one I
spoke to three minutes ago – right here...”
“
There’s only
me on this shift… I don’t know who you could have spoken
to.”
“
Okay, it
doesn’t matter – just take at look at the year. Why does it say
2001?”
She looked at the paper
with a puzzled frown. “It doesn’t… it says 2014.”
“
What?” I
grabbed the paper back. She was right – it
was
today’s newspaper, and so were
all the others.
If this was what mental
illness feels like, I didn’t like it. I went over things again: I
dropped my phone, it broke into pieces. Then it went through the
x–ray scanner. I reassembled the phone and September 2014 became
September 2001. All the newspapers said the same date – 2001. I
changed the phone’s date back to 2014, and the newspapers changed
date as well! And what about the aircraft? It arrived, it
disappeared. I changed the date to 2001 once more: wobble. The
plane was back.
I didn’t
understand how or why – but unless I was dreaming, this was
mind–blowing. Then the significance of the date hit me: September
the eleventh 2001 – ‘Nine–Eleven.’ The World Trade Center, New York
City, was going to be attacked by terrorists
that day
! From my recollections, the
first plane would hit the North Tower at 9am Eastern Standard Time…
no, 8.45am. I knew that because I’d just arrived at work that day,
and Emma had told me about an accident in New York City five
minutes later. Right, 8.45am in New York is 1.45pm in London.
What’s the time now? I checked the airport clocks: 10.57am. That
means that in less than three hours time, there’s going to be a
catastrophe – if nothing’s done to stop it. I had to tell
Niki.
‘
The number
you have dialled has not been recognized – please check and try
again later.’
I phoned again – same
outcome. Then I realized that Niki would only be eighteen and still
at school – and she almost certainly wouldn’t have the same mobile
phone number. Where was her school? Hampstead, I recalled. I logged
on to the airport’s Wi–Fi system (at least that was working in
2001) and searched for North London secondary schools. Bingo! I
found the number and called the school.
“
Hello, I
wonder if I can speak to Niki Ling… she’s an A–level student at the
school… yes yes, year thirteen. I see... but it’s urgent… yes,
very… a matter of life and death.” May as well tell the truth. I
waited on the phone whilst the receptionist went to find her. What
would I say? “Hi, this is your future husband talking?” I met Niki
in London in 2007 – which was six years in the future from ‘now.’
This was going to be a strange conversation.
“
Hello?”
“
Hi Niki, you
don’t know me, but I know you.”
“
Who is
this?”
“
I’m a friend
of your family…” Good line I thought. “Something very bad is going
to happen, and I need to tell someone I can trust…”
“
What sort of
thing?”
“
Two passenger
airliners are going to crash into the World Trade Center in New
York at around 8.45am this morning, US Eastern time – that’s 1.45pm
our time… it will seem like an accident at first, but it won’t be:
it’ll be a terrorist attack.”
“
How do you
know all this? Why are you telling me? You should tell the
authorities.”
“
Yes, I’m
going to – but they might not believe me… they might think I’m just
a crank…”
“
They might be
right.”
How could I explain this
without sounding totally weird? ‘Well, it was like this – I dropped
my phone, and the date went back thirteen years (and so did I), so
actually I’ve travelled from the future – where, incidentally, you
and I are married, and have great sex...” Well, maybe not. (I mean
maybe she won’t believe me… there’s no doubt about the
sex).
“
I’m sorry,
I’ve to go now – I’m in class soon. I really think you should tell
someone important about this – or get help... medical
help.”
What now? I had to talk
to someone who could do something, someone who could stop the
attack happening. I approached the Information Desk – it seemed the
best place to start.
“
Hi, I need to
talk to Security.”
“
Have you lost
something, sir?” the auburn haired assistant in the blue uniform
and red lipstick asked me. I was tempted to say ‘yes, my mind,’ but
they could be the judge of that.
“
No, but I’ve
got some very important information – I must see someone urgently.”
Did I sound like a crank? I tried not to.
“
What sort of
information?” she asked.
“
It concerns a
possible terrorist attack in New York City –
today
.”
Her face changed from a
smile to something more serious. “Right, just one moment…” The lady
picked up her phone and spoke softly but urgently into the
receiver. “Can I have your name sir – and some ID?” I gave her my
full name and showed her my passport. She made a couple of notes
and handed it back. “Someone will come to see you in a couple of
minutes Mr Cooper,” she smiled thinly.
I waited
anxiously. What was the worst that could happen? They’d take me to
a small room with no windows, interrogate me, detain me in custody,
do nothing about the threat, the attack would happen, I’d be a
suspect and charged under the Terrorism Act (if that’s been passed
yet), and locked away for years. They’d take away my phone so I
couldn’t get back to the present day (
my
present day), and I’d never see
Niki again. Mmm…