No Other Story (20 page)

She debated whether to tell Catherine what she had learned from Sullivan about her future; that she would one day be President Catherine Cheeseman. She decided against it, and instead simply said, “It's okay. Don't worry.”

“Don't worry about what?” asked Catherine, setting the brush down on her dresser and turning to face the Catherine of her future.

“About anything. Life has a funny way of working out.”

“I do tend to worry a lot.” Catherine sat on the bed next to Catherine.

“I know,” said Catherine. “Me too.”

“Wow, what a coincidence.” The two girls shared a laugh, and the younger Catherine said to the other, “I like your hair.”

“Thanks. I like yours too.”

They sat for a while in silence, eavesdropping on the muffled voices drifting in from the living room.

“They're out there talking about you guys leaving again,” said the younger Catherine. “Are you? Are you going to leave again?”

Whereas Jason had found it extremely uncomfortable to have his older double existing in the same time frame as himself, Catherine decided that she rather liked it.

“I guess we have to,” said the older Catherine.

Catherine nodded as if she understood, though there was no way to completely comprehend all this crazy time-travel business. “Where will you go?”

Catherine shrugged. “Back to our own time, I guess. As hard as it'll be, we'll just have to find a way to live without Mom.”

The younger Catherine's face developed a frown; not an unhappy frown, but a contemplative one. “Wait a minute,” she said. “If Mom doesn't die, then when you go back to your own time, won't she be there too?”

The older Catherine turned to her younger self with a blank look that soon transformed into an enormous smile. “That's it,” she said. “Catherine Cheeseman, you are a genius.”

“I think you mean
we
are a genius.”

“Yes,
we
are a genius. And the beauty of it is, it's so simple, even a monkey could understand it.”

“I don't understand it,” said six-year-old Simon, working away on that rubbery, flavorless wad of gum, which spent eight hours every night on the bedpost gathering flavorless dust.

“Neither do I,” said the older Simon, chewing on his smaller but equally bland lump of pink goo.

“Me neither,” said Gravy-Face Roy, chewing on nothing at all.

The two Catherines had gathered everyone in the living room for the purpose of presenting their theory; one they hoped would hold water or, more importantly, the solution to the problem of not enough Olivias and too many of everyone else.

“It's simple,” said the younger Catherine, pacing while she spoke, a behavior she picked up from her father. “Because you guys came back and saved Mom's life, that means she's still alive in the future.”

“Yes, go on,” said the younger Ethan, leaning forward in his seat on the couch.

“So all we have to do is go back to our own time,” said the elder Catherine. “Problem solved.”

“But won't there still be two sets of the rest of us?” asked the elder Jason, quite intelligent himself, but no match for his genius sister.

“There can't be two sets of you,” said Catherine the younger. “Don't you see? Your future selves can't be there, because they're here.”

Suddenly, the two Ethans jumped to their feet at the very same time and blurted out, “She's right!” They began speaking over each other, conveying the same thoughts but in slightly different words, and the whole thing came out as a mangled, garbled mess. Finally, the younger Ethan stopped and deferred to the other out of respect for his elders.

“Please, go ahead,” he said.

“Thank you,” said Ethan breathlessly. “I believe the Catherines are definitely on to something. By traveling here from the future and changing the course of events, we've created an entirely new time line.”

“A parallel universe,” Olivia added.

“Exactly. But when we return to the future, those two realities will cease to coexist. They will no longer run parallel but will intersect, joining aspects of each and creating one congruent time line.”

For young Simon, who had just learned to tell time on a regular old clock, all this talk about parallel universes and intersecting time lines was making his spiky-haired head hurt. “Does that mean that two years from now Mom will
be alive, but we'll be dead?” he asked, nervously chewing as he awaited the answer.

“No,” said the older Catherine. “What it means is that Mom will be alive and you will be us.”

This seemed to be just the precise amount of information needed to allay Simon's fears without injuring his brain.

“So then all we have to do is go all the way around the Time Arc again until we're two years into the future, and Mom will be there waiting for us?” asked Jason.

“Exactly,” said Ethan. “Unless she were to die in some other way between now and then, which will not happen.” He directed that last part of his statement at Ethan the younger. “It will not happen because Ethan will make sure it doesn't happen,” he said, sounding like a big-time athlete referring to himself in the third person. “In fact, if anything happens to anyone here, I'll come looking for you.”

“Hey, easy now,” said the younger Ethan. “There's no need for threats.”

Ethan exhaled heavily, realizing just how angry he'd been with himself. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I guess I blame you—I mean … I blame myself for Olivia's death. As a husband and a father, it's my job to protect my family from harm. And I failed.”

“But you made it right, Dad,” said the younger Catherine, referring to the elder Ethan as
Dad
for the first time. “That's what you always taught us, isn't it? All people make mistakes, but great people make amends.”

Ethan smiled. “Sometimes we parents wonder if our kids are listening to anything we say.”

“We're listening,” said Catherine. “So tell us. What do we do next?”

Even though Olivia's life had been saved for now, she and the entire Cheeseman family were still in great danger by virtue of the LVR's very existence. It was determined that they would have to go underground and remain there until it was safe to resurface.

“This is what I propose we do,” said Ethan the elder. “We remove the battery from the LVR and take it with us. You'll have two years to build another one, so that shouldn't be a problem.”

“It's quite heavy,” said Ethan the younger. “How will you carry it?”

“We're going to take your car as well.”

“You're going to take our car?” said Simon the younger. “But what will we use?”

Ethan reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of antique coins that had been given to him by Captain Jibby back in 1668. “Here,” he said, handing the gold and silver pieces over to the younger Ethan. “A collector will probably give you enough for these to buy a good, reliable used car.”

“Thanks,” said Ethan.

“Wow,” said Simon, peering at the smattering of coins resting in his father's open hand. “Is that pirate money?”

“It sure is,” said Simon.

“Okay, let's get moving,” said Ethan.

“Shouldn't you wait until dark?” asked Catherine. “That way if anyone is watching the house, they won't see you.”

“That's just it,” said Ethan. “I want them to see us. We're going to strap furniture to the roof of the car and cover it with that blue tarp in the garage. When we drive away, anyone watching the house will think we're leaving with the LVR and will give chase. That will allow you time to get away.”

“And how will
you
get away?” asked Olivia.

“We've done it before,” said Ethan. “We can do it again.”

Olivia and the two Ethans soon learned the value of having six children when all pitched in, along with Big, to carry the couch (or chesterfield, if you prefer), the recliner, two lamps, and the kitchen table to the garage to be strapped to the roof of the family station wagon.

“Remember,” said Ethan the elder, when he and the other Ethan had thrown the tarp over the furniture and lashed it to the roof. “Once we're gone, don't waste any time. Get a car, then pack up the LVR and hit the road. Change your names and lie low until the exact date that we first traveled back in time in the LVR, two years from now. If Catherine's theory is correct, Olivia will wake up that morning to find the rest of you gone. And that's when we'll return.”

“But if we're to go into hiding, then how will I find you?” asked Olivia.

Ethan took a pen and piece of scrap paper from his workbench and scribbled something down. A genius must always keep multiple scraps of paper handy for whenever inspiration might strike. “Meet us here,” he said, handing the paper to Olivia. She took it, and Ethan clutched her by
the shoulders. Looking her straight in the eye, he said, “Be extremely careful. Don't trust anyone. Eat plenty of fruits and vegetables, and don't go out in the rain without a hat. And remember to take your vitamins. And always—”

Olivia smiled. “Okay, okay. I'm not a kid, you know.”

“I know,” said Ethan. “It's just that losing you once was too much to handle. I want to make sure that nothing happens to you again. To any of you. Is that understood? I want you kids to promise me you'll do everything necessary to stay out of danger.”

“Don't worry,” said Ethan the younger. “They're a smart bunch.”

“You have no idea,” said Ethan the elder. He sized up the younger children, then the older. “They're more than just smart. These kids have the hearts of heroes. You'll see.”

Ethan gave Olivia one last kiss, which lasted only until his three children muscled him out of the way, hugging their mother as if they might never see her again. And, if Catherine's theory proved incorrect in any way, they very well might not. For that reason, they were afraid to let her go, but there was no other way, and they knew what had to be done. One by one, they peeled themselves away and said their good-byes to their younger selves.

“Try not to worry so much,” said the younger Catherine to the elder.

“Thanks,” said Catherine with a smile. “You too. And keep practicing your archery. I happen to know it will come in handy someday.”

Young Jason offered his hand to his older counterpart.
“It was very nice meeting you,” he said. “And I'm going to do my best to make you proud of me.”

“You'll do great,” said Jason.

“Thanks for letting me be the engineer,” said Simon to Simon. “Sorry I was so bossy.”

“It's okay,” said Simon. “I'm kind of used to it.” Both Simons blew a large pink bubble at the same time. The younger Simon's bubble popped first, which allowed him to be the first to say, “Jinx.”

“It doesn't count with bubbles,” said Simon. Then, suddenly realizing he was being bossy again, he said, “I mean, good one. You got me.”

Ethan gave his younger self a parting handshake before he and his three children, Big, Digs, and Pinky piled into the old family station wagon and buckled up for what very well could be a harrowing ride.

“We'll see you in a couple of years,” said young Jason.

“We'll
be
you in a couple of years,” Catherine the younger corrected.

“Actually, for us it should be a matter of just a few days,” said the older Ethan. That's how long he anticipated it would take to get back to the LVR, replace the battery, and make the trip around the Time Arc to two years into the future. His level of optimism was high. For one thing, this time they wouldn't have to worry about being bumped off the Time Arc when passing the Great Sync. They could thank Signor Gioachino Rossini for this. Because of him and his
William Tell Overture
, they now had the formula for the proper angle of trajectory.

Ethan started the engine and activated the automatic garage door opener. The younger Cheesemans and their parents watched as the station wagon inched out of the garage and into the driveway. The car stopped, and the garage door came down behind it. A second later, they heard the sharp squealing of tires.

“I know what gold is,” said Mr. 88 while biting the nails of his large ringed fingers and spitting them out the open window of the long black sedan. “But what the heck are frankincense and myrrh?”

“Frankincense sounds like some kind of aftershave to me,” said Mr. 29, followed by a long sniff of his runny nose.

“I think you're right,” Mr. 207 concurred. “Frankincense is aftershave that smells like frankfurters. And myrrh, I believe, is an abbreviation for monkey fur.”

“Monkey fur?” snapped Mr. 5. “The Three Wise Men brought gifts of gold, monkey fur, and aftershave that smells like hot dogs? Seriously, what is wrong with you people? And roll that window up, it's freezing in here.”

“If I roll up the window, then what will I do with my fingernails?” said Mr. 88.

“I don't know, try keeping them on your fingers.”

Mr. 88 looked at his right hand, with two fingernails that still had yet to be bitten. He sighed and rolled his window up just as Mr. 5's cell phone rang. Mr. 5 removed the
matchbook-sized device from the pocket of his suit jacket. “Quiet everyone, it's headquarters,” he said. “It's probably Mr. 1 calling to congratulate me on a job well done. Hello, Mr. 5 here.”

Mr. 5's face dropped when he heard the voice at the other end of the phone. It was a voice that did not belong to Mr. 1.

“Yes, this is Ms. 4,” said the woman, whose position with the company Mr. 5 coveted like no other. “I trust you have carried out your mission successfully.”

“Yes,” said Mr. 5 with a manufactured pleasantness that was barely able to slip through his tightly clenched teeth. “We heard breaking glass a couple of hours ago, most likely Mrs. Cheeseman dropping her empty coffee mug after clutching her chest and collapsing to the floor. We expect the ambulance or, better yet, the hearse to arrive at any moment.”