Time's Hostage

Time’s Hostage

By J.E. McKnight

Published by Dream Write Publishing at Smashwords

Copyright ©2012 J.E. McKnight

Look for this novel in paperback

This book is dedicated in loving memory of Joe and Lorraine McNabb &

Ed and Annie McKnight.

And to my family who have supported me with all I do and to whom I am eternally grateful.

I would like to take this moment to thank my friends at the Writers Foundation of Strathcona County who gave me the support and encouragement I needed, and to Linda Pedley, to whom I owe so much.

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work

of this author.

The characters, situations, and settings are fictitious and any resemblance to a person, living or dead, is purely coincidental, with the exception of a few names of people and places taken from history. Resources used for the writing of this novel include Internet and archive research and are readily available through usual and normal channels; every effort was made to represent the different time periods in history as close as possible with allowances for fictionalization. No reproduction, in whole or in part, of this work is allowed without the express written permission of the author, except for quotations in book reviews and interviews. Please contact the publisher for use. Dream Write Publishing and the author are committed to providing quality literary products for all ages and provide the following in-house book rating: General Adult (profanity/language (2): mild suggestive; violence/gore (4): sword/knife/pistols/laser gun fights/killing/kidnapping; sex/nudity (2): mild suggestive with reference through conversation and situation.

Chapter One

Calgary, Alberta

September 20, 1963 – 7:35 AM

Anne Crest rolled over in her sleep; her arm reached out for her husband, but found a vast emptiness. She clenched her fingers into as tight a fist as she could muster, grabbing at the sheets until they pulled away from a corner. With her free arm, she crushed Charlie’s pillow against her chest, sobbing uncontrollably.

Anne wanted to stay in bed all day and night. She hated facing the world, feeling like she did, but she was left with little choice. Her daughter Dawn relied on her and there was no way she could disappoint her little angel. Dawn was Charlie’s life. Whenever he had talked about the two ladies in his life, his face beamed. His best friend and coworker said those exact words at Charlie’s funeral the previous week. Anne smiled to herself as she slipped into her robe and slippers. It was true, she thought. He would have done anything for me and his friends and family. And little Dawn was his whole world. She shuddered and fought back the tears before opening the door. She wanted to be strong for the baby. No tears around Dawn. That was the promise. Leave it in the bedroom.

The door to Dawn’s room creaked ever so slightly as she peered in to find her little girl leaning against the side of her crib, bouncing and screeching with joy. Visions filled her mind of Charlie in the nursery’s rocking chair, both father and daughter sound asleep; a Dr. Seuss book discarded on the floor. She had walked in on this scene, she figured, at least a hundred times in Dawn’s eight months of life.

Even the most pleasant of memories caused her pain, so she fought them off and carried on. She playfully picked up her squawking pink monkey and continued on to the kitchen to fix a little breakfast. Once Dawn was settled in, Anne diligently checked the calendar for that day’s agenda. She stopped. Her heart sank. Charlie had lovingly scrolled on the sixth, the three of them would be heading on their two-week trip to California to spend time with Anne’s mother. Today would have been Charlie’s first day back to work.

Charlie was on duty that whole evening the night before they were to leave for their vacation. He would be home around one o’clock. She awoke around three to feed Dawn and Charlie was still not home. The radio was playing an Elvis tune in the background; the song finished and the DJ came on. A thick mist is closing in fast; airports will be holding all flights until it is safe to take off. If you don’t have to be out traveling this morning, I advise everyone to stay home until the fog clears. But if you must be out today, take the roads very slowly. We’ve already had a few accidents over the past couple of hours… Anne turned off the radio.

A knot worked itself into Anne’s stomach. She paced around the kitchen, moving random objects. She picked up the phone. The fog’s too heavy, and he just hasn’t left yet. Anne tried to convince herself. She called the station, but the man on the other end confirmed Charlie left a couple hours ago. He put her on hold. Anne twirled the phone cord on her finger as she paced about the floor. The doorbell rang. The phone fell, crashing to the floor. A young police officer stood at the door. Red and blue lights flashed across the drapes. Because a young man decided to drive home from a party after drinking, Dawn would never know her father. The accident left no survivors.

The envelope containing Charlie’s personal possessions still lay on the table by the door. She looked at the items once at the station when she picked them up, but not since. There was one item she couldn’t just stuff back into the envelope. It was a picture of the three of them the morning Dawn came home. Charlie insisted on always carrying it with him. If he couldn’t be with his girls, he would take his girls with him.

Charlie blinked his eyes open; clouds surrounded him in every direction. About three feet in front of him stood a tall, beautiful gate. An intense light appeared from behind the gleaming bars, pushing the doors apart. Charlie had never seen anything like it before. He stepped forward, towards the light, letting it bathe him in its warmth. A woman waited for him in the pool of golden light, a woman he hadn’t seen in nearly fifteen years.

Hello, Charlie.

Mom? Is that you? As bright as it was all around them, Charlie had no need to squint or shield his eyes.

Yes, Charlie. It’s me. It’s been so long and I’ve missed you so much.

What is this place? I don’t understand.

Think about it, Charlie. What is the last thing you can remember? His mom placed a loving hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes.

I remember packing for California. We had planned the trip for months. I remember helping Anne with the luggage before going to work. The night went by without incident. He looked up at his mom. It was foggy. I was going so slow. I could hardly see a thing. A pair of headlights cut through the fog. They came right towards me. That’s all I remember.

I’m so sorry, Charlie. She wrapped her arms around her son and held him tight.

No! Charlie pushed himself away from her. This has to be a mistake. I can’t be here. I have a wife and a daughter.

You do have a beautiful family, Charlie. It made me proud every time I saw them and how happy they made you.

What do you mean every time you saw them? You know about my family? How could you?

The same way you’ll be able to. You’ll never be able to be with them the way you want but, Charlie, you’ll still be able to watch over them.

Charlie ran both hands through his hair and squeezed his eyes shut. This can’t be happening.

Thank you, Rose. I’ll take it over from here.

Charlie turned to see a man dressed in white robes standing within the gates. Charlie’s mother kissed her son’s cheek and walked through the entrance, offering the man an acknowledging nod as she passed by.

Who are you? Can you help me?

My name is Abel. Whether I can help you or not would depend on what you want.

Abel, I want to go home. My family is waiting for me.

That’s usually what people want when they first get here. I’m sorry, Charlie, there’s just no way that can happen. Shall we take a walk? Abel waved his arm in the direction of the open gate.

Charlie peered inside, observing many people. He stepped back from the gate. If he didn’t enter, then it wouldn’t be real. I can’t go in there. I’ll never get back home.

It won’t happen the way you’d like it to, Charlie, whether you remain out here or come inside. That cannot change. You understand what happened don’t you?

I was in a car accident, right?

Head on. The kid who hit you had just left a party. He was drunk. His car swerved into your lane. You were killed instantly. It was a terrible tragedy, but it wasn’t a mistake. Will you come with me now?

Charlie moved slowly towards the gate. Images flashed before his eyes. He saw years pass as he grew up in Airdrie; his move to Calgary and joining the police force there. He witnessed the first time he met Anne and more images of their relationship leading up to their engagement, their wedding, and the final flashes were of his precious Dawn. When the images stopped, Charlie was standing in a sea of white. The golden light was gone and the gate was far in the distance.

Where are all the people I saw in here?

We passed them. I thought we should speak in private.

This is really happening, isn’t it? There is no way you could have made a mistake? I mean it hasn’t been that long. Are you sure?

I’m sure. This is 1994, Charlie. It’s no mistake. I’m sorry.

Thirty-one years? Charlie was shocked. I missed it! I missed everything! That damn drunk took everything away from me for a good time!

Maybe I should explain. You see, we have a special place here called the Recreational Area; everyone is put on a waiting list. Those who live their lives with love in their hearts and give of themselves get priority placing; those who lost their lives due to someone else’s personal negligence, like yourself, is rushed to the top of the list and those who commit violent crimes or take their own lives are pushed to the bottom. Now, if we took people in one at a time or waited until it was your turn, it would take forever. We brought you here to 1994, thirty-one years after your death to speed up the process and once you’ve completed your task, you can return to 1963 and be admitted into the Recreational Area. It’s really quite nice. It was designed to be just like the Garden of Eden.

How could you do that with all the clouds covering everything up?

Everyone’s expectations of Heaven include the pearly gates, the bright light, and clouds. We try to take the tension off by meeting those expectations. Heaven is merely another dimension of Earth, not somewhere in the sky like people seem to think. Only spirits can enter this dimension, where to us, everything is still tangible. But if we were to enter the dimension of the living we would become no more tangible than the air. Abel could see Charlie was having trouble with his new situation. It’s okay, Charlie. This is a lot to handle at first but you’ll get used to it.

I’m not sure I want to get used to it.

Well, I’m afraid you’re going to have to, if you want to successfully complete your task.

Task? What is this task you’ve been speaking of?

Not to worry, Charlie. It’s just a little assignment to help you get into the Recreational Area. Now, here is a print out of your task. It gives you all the information you’ll need on your two subjects and the little package they received earlier today, which contain time machines, which will be necessary for you to help out your subjects. Remember, when you are sent back, you will become a ghost.

Why should I do this at all? Why would I want to enter the Recreational Area?

You’re a good man, Charlie. That’s why you were selected for this particular mission. You have devoted most of your life to helping others. That’s why you became a police officer, isn’t it?

I’m dead. I’m no longer that person.

Your body was just a vessel. Your soul or spirit is what guides that vessel. That is something you get to take with you. If you make it into the Recreational Area, you will have the benefit of getting to watch over your loved ones and ensuring they’re okay.

What has happened with my family, Abel? It’s been so long. Are they all right?

They’re fine, Charlie. I’m not going to reveal anything more to you. You’ll find out for yourself, soon enough.

Charlie looked at the sheet of paper he received from Abel. What are their names? It’s not mentioned here.

"Their names are Chris Jonson and Jonathan MacLeod. Oh, and one more thing, there are a few rules you must follow if you want to succeed in your mission.

The first rule is you must not make any drastic changes to history. The second is under no circumstances are you to have them traveling back to save you. Rule three, you must never divulge information on future events, which might cause a change to original history. And finally, rule number four, you must never reveal yourself to anyone other than Chris and Jonathan. If you follow these simple rules you shouldn’t have any problems being admitted into the Recreational Area. Good luck, Charlie.

Charlie was still troubled by his death and everything he had missed and was going to miss. He needed more time to get used to the idea and figure things out. But instead, he had to use his time getting to know two troubled teens, and help them out rather than helping himself. He wasn’t the kind of person to ignore people in need; even if it did mean sacrificing everything he had and knew in the process.

Chapter Two

Edmonton, Alberta

Feb. 16, 1987 – 3:37 PM

Two figures sat in a parked car facing a local elementary school. Throngs of students fled the building, anxious to get home. The two men had been watching the crowd for fifteen minutes, since the dismissal bell sounded. All the kids they observed were bundled up in parkas, hats and scarves, which made identification a little more difficult.

I see them, Freddy. There’s Chris and Jonathan. Brock pointed in the direction of two sixth grade boys. He took a sip of his coffee. Why the hell is it so cold in here? Why can’t you turn on the heat?

Relax, all right. The heater’s broken. Beggars can’t be choosers, but we won’t be here long. How did the deal go?

Great! We got the place on 97th.

The old nightclub?

Yup. It’s a steal how low the prices are here. Not like home. Should make a good front though. A few renos here and there and it will be open for business in a couple months. There’s even plenty of space in the basement so we can divide it up ‘mongst storage and the clubhouse.

Perfect.

Are you sure this will change things?

I’m positive. There. They’re getting on bus number twenty five. We’ll follow it. I want to see where the little bastards live. He chortled. I can’t believe how young they look. When we get back, I want you to check on the Italian place.

Right, Freddy. All right, the bus is moving. Let’s go.

Edmonton, Alberta

June 24, 1994 – 3:37 PM

Chris stood next to his bike, studying the object inside the freshly unwrapped package. He had never seen anything like it before and couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out who could have given it to him. Sweat built up on his brow as he baked in the hot summer sun. It seemed as if his black leather jacket was channeling all the sun’s rays directly at him. He prayed he wouldn’t have to wait for his friends much longer. His backpack and saddlebags were usually full at the end of the day but all those schoolbooks found a new home in the trash bins. They didn’t even make it out of the school.

Chris sighed and shook his head as he finally saw Jonathan and Marilyn walking hand in hand across the asphalt to where their bikes were parked.

About time you guys got here. I was ready to blow this place. Chris slipped into his bike helmet.

Hey, this is our last year; Marilyn wanted to say goodbye to all her friends.

No offense, guys, but I say good riddance. If they were good enough friends, this wouldn’t be goodbye. Chris unzipped his backpack and slipped the gift inside. He threw the bag on his back and climbed aboard.

Jonathan and Marilyn just shook their heads and grinned at each other. So what was in the mysterious package? Jonathan slipped the helmet over her light brown hair; slight curls fell at her shoulders from underneath. He knew she could do it herself but Jonathan liked to do things for her. He tied the strap under her chin, tipped her head back slightly and, with a caressing nudge of his forefinger, he pressed his lips gently against hers, kissing her softly. He helped her onto the back of the bike.

I’m not sure. Some kind of machines. I’ll have to play around with them later and see what they do.

Jonathan slid the straps of his backpack over Marilyn’s shoulders, which was filled with their yearbooks, signed by all their friends, CDs, books and the other items that were cleaned from their lockers.

There weren’t any instructions?

None. Not even packaging. It’s really weird, actually. I can’t wait to see what they do.

Jonathan climbed onto his bike. Marilyn wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tight as he started the engine. The two engines roared, drowning out all the noise from excited students rushing home, anxious to start relaxing for the next two months.

Well Chris, what do you say? Should we open these babies up and see what they can do? I’m interested to see how that new bike of yours operates.

Chris smiled, rubbing his hands over the handlebars. Well she’s new to me, but it’s not exactly new.

So, we gonna race?

Chris nodded his approval and knocked the kickstand away. Let’s go!

Marilyn grabbed at the sleeve of Jonathan’s leather jacket as he revved the engine in response to Chris’ similar actions. Jonathan!

Hold it, Chris. What is it, sweetheart? Jonathan knocked the kickstand back in place, both feet flat on the ground. Chris stopped and turned to see what the holdup was.

Please don’t! Marilyn begged, looking into Jonathan’s eyes, but she did not see the sensibility usually evident in those green eyes she loved so much. Her deep blue eyes carried sternness and a desperation that Jonathan was not used to seeing.

Jonathan responded with a slight caress with the back of his hand against her soft cheek. He ran his fingers through the hair that lay exposed against her bare neck. He smiled at her lovingly. I promise this will be the last time, okay?

In disgust, she moved her head away from his hand, refusing to return his smile. That’s what you said last time. And you were almost in a wreck. Do you remember what you said to me?

Jonathan breathed a heavy sigh, the smile gone from his face. He looked down at the asphalt beneath him and didn’t say a word.

You told me that you would never put me in that situation.

Okay. He said, not taking his eyes off the asphalt. I’ll stop racing... after this one. He looked her square in the eye and held his hand soothingly against her face, catching a tear with his thumb as it began to trickle over the curve of her cheek. We just want to take Chris’ new bike for a spin. Open it up a bit. Okay?

You swear this is the last time? Her gaze turned hopeful.

I swear! I will never race again.

Okay then. She still wasn’t sure, but with some reluctance she pulled herself closer to Jonathan, the warmth of the leather pressing up against the patch of bare skin revealed by a low cut shirt.

Marilyn’s face peered ahead, her chin resting on his shoulder. Jonathan nodded to Chris that he was ready to fly.

The student parking lot was nearly empty. Only a few cars remained when the three young adults left the designated area. They kept the speed constant, staying within the limit as they drove by the school.

The buses filed out of the parking lot, one after the other. Along with several cars, the road quickly became congested. A balmy summer breeze poured over them like warm waters. The wind teased the ends of Marilyn’s hair, the sun catching each strand.

Gradually, the traffic thinned as they approached a red light.

Well, we just have to get around that bend in the road and we should have a nice straight course to travel, and there’s hardly a car in sight. Chris looked back at his friends. Marilyn still held on tight to Jonathan’s waist even though they were at a standstill.

Let’s do it!

Marilyn’s grip tightened around her boyfriend’s waist; her face pressed up against his back. Groaning, she winced as the light turned green and the two men slowly accelerated, making the turn towards the straight path down a clear street.

They traveled for half a block before reaching the bend in the road. Accelerating through the bend, Chris and Jonathan began racing. The bikes reached one hundred and twenty kilometers an hour.

Marilyn’s hair was no longer dancing playfully. The visible strands whipped madly against the breeze. Students from kindergarten right through to grade twelve occupied the paved walkways excitedly making their way home. They watched, some with curiosity, some cheering the bikers on, and some looked on with utter disgust. They went unnoticed by the two racers. Nothing existed around them.

Jonathan pulled ahead of Chris, who was trailing by only a few feet. Jonathan made a quick glance over his left shoulder to check on his position. How far am I ahead?

The light went from green to yellow; Marilyn hid her face deeper into Jonathan’s jacket and closed her eyes tight as the sound of the bikes accelerating filled her ears. Please God make them stop.

Cheers rang out over the sounds of the engines all along the road. Marilyn, still hiding her face, could not see what was going on around her but she heard what her sight was keeping from her. Traffic was heavy in the two opposite lanes, but they had these two lanes to themselves. What Chris and Jonathan saw as a blessing, she thought seemed more like a curse.

Chris’ bike sounded like it had fallen further behind; the engine’s roar was becoming distant. She felt the bike accelerating again. Oh, no. She thought. Another amber light? They wouldn’t stop; she knew that. Maybe they’ll make it again. Please make it again.

Chris’ tires screeched to a halt but she and Jonathan were too close. She opened her eyes in time to see an elderly lady in the middle of the road. A pedestrian. Jonathan’s bike skidded to the left. They crossed the centerline. He accelerated across the two eastbound lanes and Marilyn heard the sounds of horns as Jonathan tried desperately to avoid an assault of thousands of pounds of speeding metal. As Jonathan approached the curb he could hear, from behind him, the sound of screeching tires, smashing metal and shattering glass.

Chris watched helplessly from behind the stop line at the traffic light as vehicles going both ways slammed into one another.

Once on the curb, Jonathan slowly slipped the helmet off his head to survey the damage. Marilyn did not release her grip.

My God! He barely got the words past his lips. The light had changed but the traffic in the east and westbound lanes was not going anywhere. Chris rushed to the needs of the frightened old lady. She never quite made it across the street, but as Chris checked on her, it appeared she suffered no injuries.

Four vehicles were spread across the intersection, twisted and turned in all directions. A young man in his twenties crawled from the wreckage of a little green car. A mini van sat facing west with a pickup truck planted against the driver’s side.

No one emerged from the small ‘K’ car that sat across the yellow line. The driver’s side was smashed in from where it met the corner of the pick-up’s box.

Jonathan couldn’t tell if anybody else, besides the man from the green car was injured. He hung his helmet over the handlebars of his bike, and helped Marilyn off.

Tears streamed from her eyes as she threw her arms around her lover’s neck. He held her tightly. It’s okay, you’re safe. I’ve got you, he whispered.

Marilyn suddenly pushed him away and stepped back. She yanked at the helmet strap. This should never have happened! How could you do this? Our lives were not the only ones at stake here. I hope those people aren’t badly hurt. She shoved Jonathan’s backpack into his chest and walked past him, rejecting the comforting hand he offered her.

Jonathan took a reluctant step toward the street to see what he could do to help. Bystanders who had witnessed the accident, tried frantically to get at the victims inside the wreckage. He wasn’t sure what he could do, but had to do something.

He took one last glance towards Marilyn, who was sitting on the curb with her face in her hands. A darkly clad man approached her and Jonathan saw him stick a knife to her throat as he forced her away from the scene. Jonathan’s breathing quickened. He followed without hesitation.

Chris had just helped a little girl and her brother out of a car. He tried to calm them looking around in hopes of seeing some emergency vehicles. He did not know how to deal with these two. In desperation, he grabbed the nearest woman to take over and help the kids. He saw Jonathan running after Marilyn and her abductor. Afraid of separating himself from his new mysterious machines, he grabbed his backpack and took off towards the alley into which his friends disappeared.

Chris rushed into the alley and stopped short. Marilyn’s