The End and Thanks

Thanks to everyone... Those who read this and those who humored me as I wrote this little creative "sanity keeper".

I'm currently writing some "Nain Rouge" stories to amuse my children... perhaps I'll Internet publish those too.

Now if I can just get a big Hollywood producer to make a major motion picture out of this :-)

Anthony

Chapter 12: I Can't Wait To Get A Look In That Basement

The Present

A low rumble appeared to originate from the hills surrounding the small town of Owens Farm, growing increasingly louder. Then on top of the rumble, the ground shook, almost liquid as shock waves rippled through the valley. And the noise grew and grew as the destruction of the quake approached the town.

Thrown against a wall, Mr. Carlyle let out a large groan and collapsed to the floor. Ben grabbed Mary and crawled under a large table. Around the room pictures and vases tumbled to the floor shattering and dangerously throwing shards of glass in all directions.

“Ugh”, groaned Mary as a shard slice by her ankle and blood started to trickle onto the floor. Ben turning quickly grabbed an old pillow and ripping the cover off tied it around Mary’s wound.

With the Salon rocking violently, the three each wondered to themselves how the old house could ever hold together. The cabinets in the far corner now collapsed and spread their precious contents on the floor toward Mr. Carlyle. Small figurines, swords and fragile manuscripts mixed together in the growing dust and destruction.

Desperately Carlyle reached for his treasures, trying to shield them from further damage as chunks of plaster now started to fall from the ceiling, bursting into clouds of white as they slammed into the furniture, floor and people.

“Forget them Mr. Carlyle”, Ben screamed above the noise surrounding them. “Protect yourself”. But Mr. Carlyle, holding an ancient cup in one had and a papyrus roll in the other tried to gather more even as blood flowed freely from a fresh wound on his forehead.

Crashing, rumbling, flame, noise and more noise, Ben curled into a ball shaking.

Then stillness.

From his place in the room, Ben could see the communication towers on the distant hill collapsing under the violence of the earthquake. A loud explosion came from the direction of the interstate and smoke appeared from numerous sites across the town. “More fires”, thought Ben.

“W… W… We don’t have earthquakes around here”, said a visibly shake Mary crawling back up onto the couch and then turning to peer out of the Salon window.

Toward the corner block, she could see Chief Vache, puffing heavily and out of breath, being mobbed by the folks of Owens Farm, terrified and eager for direction from the authorities. Henry O’Day with a calmer, cooler head the Chief Vache was seen tending to some folks trapped in their car by a huge oak toppled by the earthquake.

Mary’s thought then turned to her parents, “Oh God” she cried and started to rise from the couch to run from the room when she heard Mr. Carlyle turn on the television. Curiosity caught her and she stopped suddenly. “Breath Mary”, she told herself, after all she was always the cool rational one. “Breath and get some information. You can’t get far anyway with this ankle”.

A panicked news anchor from a local station was talking hurriedly about Breaking News, “The earthquake centered in the valley of Owens Farm was apparently linked to a series of quakes across the North American Continent”.

Forgetting the growing chaos outside, Mary sat down and with Ben and a slightly bruised Mr. Carlyle and stared intently at the images flashing across the screen.

“… growing chasms have opened paths for Lake Michigan to flood into Chicago…”

“… fifty feared trapped in an overturned bus in upstate New York…”

“… Central Florida sinks 20 to 30 feet as city-sized sink holes swallow communities…”

“… and this just in… reports from the Canary Islands indicate that a landslide of monumental proportions has sent a mountain crashing into the Atlantic. Tsunamis warnings are posted for the coastal cities of the United States…”

Mr. Carlyle sobbed, “God… oh God… stop…. stop… stop….”

Regaining composure but still teary eyed, he slowly and stoically said, “Kids I have to end this now”.

“Turn it off”, said Mary gesturing toward the television. “I’ve seen enough. I don’t want to know what we’ve set in motion”. Ben nodded slightly in agreement. He had no desire to see if their recent time travels had cause calamities in every far off corner of the world.

Clicking the television off, Mr. Carlyle leaned against the salon wall, a load of history and all its disasters were resting on his shoulders. Looking very much like a beaten old man now, the vigor that he had displayed just hours before was gone. Slowly he shuffled through the ruins of his salon, picking up his artifacts and mementos, apparently unconsciously trying to restore some order to the room, his life and perhaps the world.

“The history of the stone has held true and I can do little about this”, said Mr. Carlyle.

“Mr. Carlyle”, said Ben, “you can do something. We have seen history change by our actions in our travels. Luke was dead, we traveled and Luke was alive. Your house was wrecked, we traveled and your house was as it always was. We can change this too”.

“Destroy the stone Mr. Carlyle”, suggested Ben. “Let’s get a hammer and smash it into thousands of pieces. Then take the pieces and scatter them around the world”.

“Can’t’ be done”, said Mr. Carlyle. “After my wife died, oh almost eight thousand years ago, I raged, breaking all the pottery, household goods and even our small dwelling”.

“You see, those days saw me just learning the stone’s mysteries and I traveled often, trying combinations of time and duration. I wanted to learn how to take her with me and show the wonders I had seen. On one of my journeys, I even managed to bring back an iron ax. Slipped it into my belt and it came through time with me”.

Stopping for a second, remembering his life with Naama, Mary saw the tear in Mr. Carlyle’s eyes. He bent over apparently reaching for a broken ax blade that was now lying under a shattered marble statue.

Composing himself, Mr. Carlyle turned the ax over slowly in his hands and continued, “She died just after one of my trips. I must have been responsible. She was healthy, our children were healthy. Our fields were rich, dark soil producing fine crops, but she died suddenly. Maybe I did it. Maybe the stone”. And Mr. Carlyle for a second glared at the stone on the table and threw the ax toward it smashing the table but not even scratching the stone. He sobbed openly, clasped his arm to his chest, “Why. Why”.

Mary stood and wrapped her arms in comfort around her crying friend. “Mr. Carlyle, you don’t have to tell us anymore”, said Mary. “You can stop”.

“No, I want you to know what I know about the stone”, said Mr. Carlyle. ”When Naama died I raged so violently that my children and their families had fled in terror. I smashed all that Naama and I possessed, tables, chairs, anything within reach. Finally I stood alone with just that cursed stone. I my despair I could swear that I heard it laughing at me”.

“I smashed and smashed that cursed stone with this ax”, he held it out before him, “until the blade shattered and was as broken as my life. The stone though had no marks on it, just the scratching you still see on it” and Mr. Carlyle gestures toward the stone on the table.

“I think that it cannot be destroyed” and Mr. Carlyle sat down and settled into his chair head held in his two hands.

A slight aftershock shook the room as Ben rose. He paced gingerly around the room bracing for more aftershocks, stepping over the broken memories covering the floor. Thoughtfully said, “How about if we throw it into a volcano, or drop it off a ship in the ocean”?

Mary replied, “But that means that at some time in the future, it may surface again”. She was now at the window watching fires growing brighter on the hillsides surrounding the town. She felt guilty, wanting to run to her parents, but she felt she must stay to help solve the problem of the stone.

“I don’t think that’s the answer Ben. Mary’s right”, said Mr. Carlyle, who was now pacing around the table looking at the stone. “Millions more must not die, so that one can travel time. But I think I know what needs to be done”. Mr. Carlyle rose to his feet and adjusted his clothes.
“Children”, said Mr. Carlyle approaching the table, “the stone travels time and that is the key to its destruction”. A small smile appeared on his face, “Perhaps a last riddle for these two”, he thought.

Reaching down Mr. Carlyle grasped the stone in the palm of his hand. Holding it at arms length in front of him, he said, “Children, did time always exist?”

Mary gasped for she knew the answer immediately and perhaps saw more clearly what Mr. Carlyle was going to attempt to do.

“Answer me, did time always exist”, said Mr. Carlyle now assuming the role and demeanor of a teacher. “Ben, do you have an answer”?

Stumped, Ben said, “I don’t know sir”.

“You missed that week in school, Ben”, said a confident Mary, “I think it was after a particularly nasty beating by Luke. Anyway, Mr. Carlyle, it is a common belief among most physicists that time, and space began with the Big Bang”. Mary smiled proudly, forgetting just a little the chaos brewing outside.

“Excellent, excellent”, Mr. Carlyle, grinning and was now almost overjoyed at the answer Mary gave. “And what do they commonly call the Big Bang, Mary, another name”.

Smoke was beginning to fill the air around the town as the fires approached. Cars jammed the roads leaving Owens Farm as resident tried to flee but were stopped by a wall of flame engulfing all paths to safety. Mr. Carlyle glanced out of the salon window, “Gonna have to wrap this lesson up quickly”, he thought as he saw the town’s only fire truck blocked on the road below by fallen trees and buildings.

“I believe that it is the point of singularity, sir. About Fourteen billion years ago my teacher said”, and Mary smiled a large, toothy smile, growing more oblivious from the terror.

Mr. Carlyle was now almost his old self as if the weight of history was lifted from his shoulders.

“Correct. Correct. Correct”, yelled Mr. Carlyle, “and that is how to destroy the stone. If the stone exists in time, it is logical to believe that outside of time it shall be gone, gone with no possibility of coming back”.

“I will take the stone outside of time”, he said, stopping and staring at Ben and Mary.
Ben rose, stunned for he realized that Mr. Carlyle was going to sacrifice himself to destroy the stone. “No Mr. Carlyle, there must be another way”.

It then hit Mary too, that Mr. Carlyle was going to take the stone to a place from which it could never return. She stood silent, stunned.

Calmly Mr. Carlyle said, “Ben I have lived a very long life, I think too long. I have dined with those famous and infamous and as Noah, I forever became a legend. Mary, you are indeed brilliant, too brilliant for a place like Owens Farm, and Ben you are far braver that you believe and loyal, very loyal”.

Walking towards a still standing cabinet, Mr. Carlyle took out a paper and pen and proceeded to write a short letter. Mary and Ben shuffled about the room nervously as sirens wailed in the distance. Then Mr. Carlyle placed this letter in an envelope, sealed it and set it on the table.

“This house is full of treasures children, the legitimacy of most of them will not be believed by authorities, but be assured everything is authentic and you two must never forget that.”

Ben now wrapped his arms around a sobbing Mary, comforting her, awkwardly but still in the best way he could.

Drifting from thought to thought, and reminiscing, Mr. Carlyle said, “Incidentally, there are directions in the basement that will lead you to a cup, the one people have dreamed about and look for two thousand years. It was a gift to me and perhaps my greatest treasure”.

Now Ben was crying too. Events were in motion that neither he nor Mary could stop, and that Mr. Carlyle wouldn’t stop.

“That is a letter to my lawyers”, said Mr. Carlyle pointing to the envelope on the table. “I’m putting everything into a trust for you two when you turn eighteen. It should take that long after I’m gone for the courts to declare me legally dead”.

“I’ve cherished our friendship Ben, Mary. You two are quite exceptional and I don’t think Luke should be much trouble anymore”. Then with a smile Mr. Carlyle added, “Just threaten him with another yellow paint can”.

Time was growing short for the town of Owens Farm. Ashes from the fires raging on the hillsides were floating on the wind, igniting small fires on just about every street. These would soon join into an inferno that would erase the village from the face of the Earth. Cars turning back from the wall of flames surrounding the town caused massive traffic jams when they met others going in the opposite direction.

Smoke now filled the air, cloaking everything in a dull choking haze. The dull browns and grays of the town made more drab by the clouds of smoke pushed on by a wall of flame.

Mary and Ben were now holding each other, coughing from the smoke and sobbing openly.

Rolling the Stone over and over in his hands, Mr. Carlyle said, “You two take care of each other for each of you have a destiny too big for Owens Farm to hold”.

“Bye children. You have given me great joy and now…”

After a slight pause, Mr. Carlyle proclaimed with confidence “Sixteen billion years back, Twenty-five billion centuries”.

Mr. Carlyle was gone.

# # #

16,000,000,000 Years Ago

Mr. Carlyle / Noah / Tink Owens had materialized just as he knew he would in a dark region predating space and time by several billion years.

He lived for just a second, if seconds had existed then for there was no time as we know it. But in that second, he felt calm, peaceful and even joyful.

It was as if he solved the greatest mystery of all time by joining a great eternal mystery.

He felt as if he was not alone and never would be.

# # #

The Present

The room seemed to swirl and spin. Colors appeared to become unlocked from the objects they had colored and float through the room, blending and unblending, mixing and unmixing forming new and wild combinations. Like a wild, living painting.

Blue curtains, became red as the blue seemingly lifted from their surface and the red flowed on. White marble statues lost color as their white floated like clouds above with greens and purples appearing as mists in the air, first here, then suddenly there. Patterns on the salon rug merged and spun, forming wild colors and shapes that seemed to flow like a river from object to object.

Chairs and cabinets, artifacts and mementos now appeared to melt and blend into the swirls of color, losing all shape and form. Mary could not tell what used to be a chair or what used to be a statue. Ben had no grasp of up, out, down, in or any direction at all.

Like a watercolor paining with too much water the space around Ben and Mary blended into colors and shapes that had no connection or meaning to what was their world of just minutes ago.
Mary, clutched Ben tighter than she ever had, wanting to close her eyes in fear but having to keep them open at the wonders filling what used to be a room. “Nothing like the blackness of time travel”, she tried to yell in Ben’s ear. Ben though did not hear. He was busy holding Mary with his left hand while trying to reach out and grasp the color green that was flying through the air with his right hand.

Then the swirls of color and forms came to a stop, hanging motionless in the space around Mary and Ben. Then they started to move again, but this time in reverse. Objects shattered in the quake reformed, couches and chairs hurled across the room by the quake, were reforming in the places they sat just hours ago. Colors flowed onto object instead of off them.

“Almost like a movie running backward”, thought Ben, but it was like no movie he could ever dream of for it was not just objects, resetting and reforming themselves but colors, smells and even time itself.

Then silence and stillness, movement had stopped. Just quiet and stillness.
Minutes passed before either Ben of Mary dared to move. They stood in the now reformed Salon and just stared at the spot where Mr. Carlyle last stood, perhaps hoping that he would instantly reappear as time travelers always seemed to do.

“He’s gone Mary. Mr. Carlyle’s dead or perhaps since he jumped outside of our time, he never existed at all”, said Ben hugging Mary a little harder, trying to be reassuring and comforting.

Mary started to walk around the room, lightly touching chairs, statues and the figurines that filled the display case.

“Oh he existed Ben”, said a sobbing Mary, “and I will miss him”. Picking up an old Bible on the mantle over the fire place, Mary opened to the story of Noah and the great flood. She had a slight smile, remembering her friend Mr. Carlyle.

“The smoke is gone. Let’s go see our families” said Ben and he reached out to take her hand.
Holding hands the walked toward the front door of Mr. Carlyle’s house. There was no sign of fire, collapsed trees, communication towers or buildings. Owens Farm was as it was before, calm and same.

“I think we can assume that everything is as it was, Mary”, said Ben. “Time has righted itself”.
Excited now, they slammed the door to Mr. Carlyle’s house behind them and ran down the street, each eager to see their own families and verify that all was set right.

“Wait”, said Mary, pulling away from Ben. “The letter”, and she ran back to get it.

“It was his last wish, we’ve go to mail it”, she said.

After getting the letter and locking the door to Mr. Carlyle’s house, Ben again took Mary’s hand and together they strolled slowly down Elm Street. Behind them the purple shutters and lime green roof of Mr. Carlyle’s house stood again in stark contrast to the brown and gray structures, they walked by.

Behind them was the flowering bushes in front of Mr. Carlyle’s house would one day bloom with vibrant color lighting up the yard while the rest of Owens Farm stayed dull green and brown.

Behind them was a story nobody would believe. Goods spanning an arc of time that could never could be verified. A house filled with items whose tales were too fantastic to be believed.

Placing the envelope in the mailbox on the corner, Mary said, “Let’s go to my house Ben, I’m sure my mother will let you stay for dinner if you want”.

“Thanks Mary”, said Ben, “After I check with my parents but dinner with you sure sounds good to me”.

Off in the distance, the siren of Owens Farm’s only police car could be heard and grew nearer. Ben and Mary reached the front porch of Mary’s house just as the patrol car skidded to a stop in the street in front.

Out came Officer Vache and from the back seat, protected by a painter’s tarp, a very yellow Luke Nelson.

“Ben Dover. Mary Moore, hold up a bit”, said Officer Vache. “Luke here says that… Oh for god sakes Luke you’re getting yellow paint all over the outside of the car now. Back away son.” Luke stepped away from the police car and into the street.

“Now where was I”, said Officer Vache, “Oh yes, Luke here says that you two here smashed him in the head with a paint can full of yellow paint”.

For a second, Mary and Ben froze, not knowing what to say.

Then Ben was the first to talk, “I’m not sure what you’re talking about sir. How could Mary and I take on a person as large as Luke with only a heavy paint can? He surely is too smart to fall for that.”

Luke, confused as usual, nodded in agreement feeling that of course he was too smart.
Officer Vache thought for a second and really did not want to work too hard at this. He knew that Luke had probably bought this painting upon himself and besides, he was tired and hungry and was ready to wrap the whole incident up.

Mary picking up on Ben’s cue, said, “Perhaps Luke is mistaken and got the yellow paint on himself.”

Now more tired of working on this situation and growing annoyed at being kept from his nap, Officer Vache decided to quickly wrap thing up. He said, “Yes and I’m sure that Luke is mistaken and got the paint on himself, right Luke. I said right Luke?”

Luke not fully understanding what was happening nodded.

“Go home Luke and clean yourself up”, said Officer Vache.

Luke turned and headed home, still confused.

Officer Vache got back in the police car and said, “Get up in the house kids. It’s getting near dinner time… for me anyway”. And he laughed and drove off.

“Ben, nobody’s ever going to believe us, will they”, said Mary.

"Nope”, said Ben, “but we know the truth and that’s all that matters”.

Turning back in the direction of Mr. Carlyle’s house Ben said, “Mary, I can’t wait to get a look in that basement”.

THE END

Chapter 11: We Traveled Three Times Today

The Present

“Ben, things are back to normal, repaired and patched. How can that be bad?” said Mr. Carlyle as he turned toward the front steps and went into his house. “Perhaps, we need to call a doctor for Luke”, said Mr. Carlyle from the front porch gesturing to Luke who was now sitting up and rubbing his head.

Rising on wobbly legs, Luke gave a quick glance toward Mary and Ben still standing near the dented can of yellow paint, then without a word ran quickly down the street cover still in yellow paint.

Mary now feeling very brave, yelled after him, “Don’t forget this Luke Nelson or next time you’ll get worse, far worse”.

Mr. Carlyle had by now gone into his house. Running in, Ben and Mary found him in the salon. Everything was just as it was before the attack by Luke. The holes in the walls were gone, the cabinets and their precious contents were back in place. Broken figurines on the fireplace mantle were reassembled.

The photo album of Mr. Carlyle’s recent travels was back in place on the table. The Stone was lying next to it, just where Mr. Carlyle had placed it.

Sitting in a huge stuffed chair, cover in pink and bright blue cloth, Mr. Carlyle leaned toward Mary and Ben and said, “You are wrong, Ben, time travel and the stone have opened up the world and even kept me alive across eight thousand years of time. I have had adventures like no other man has and now I know that I must share it.”

“No you can’t”, plead Ben, “Just listen to me. Please”.

“Oh stop Ben”, said a sterner Mr. Carlyle, “I’ve decided to share the stone with the world, the greatest minds, the greatest thinkers. They can now solve riddles whose answers have been obscured by the destruction and dust of the ages. Imagine sitting and conversing with Tutankhamen or watching Santorini explode again. You know I was there just before it blew up last time. Oh that was about 3500 years ago or so”.

“Please Mr. Carlyle, stop.” said Ben with almost a tear in his eye. “I’ve learned something from your tales of time travel, something that you have never seen. Maybe you’ve been too close to it for too long but, time travel changes the world but for bad, Mr. Carlyle. You travel ...er… I mean we travel time and bad things happen.”

“Nonsense, rubbish”, screamed a visibly disturbed Mr. Carlyle as he retreated even deeper into his over stuffed chair. “I’ve seen the great events of time. I’ve eaten with the famous figures of history. You’re speaking nonsense Ben, nonsense. I think it’s time you and Mary leave. We’ve had enough for today.”

Mary, shaken by the verbal exchange between these two friends started to rise from the couch where she was now sitting. “Please you two, calm down”, she plead.

“No”, replied Ben defiantly, “I won’t. Please listen, Mr. Carlyle, I can prove this all to you. Mary please sit and listen to me”.

“Out” screamed an angry Mr. Carlyle who appeared to try to rise from his chair in a desire to oust Mary and Ben from his house, but the overstuffed chair prevented a quick rise and before he could stand, Ben reached for the photo album lying on the table.

“Put the album back Mr. Dover”, said a serious Carlyle. “I invite you into my house, offer you great adventures and now you have the nerve to say that everything I believe and did was wrong. Out, out now”.

Quickly opening the album, Ben turned to the picture of President Roosevelt and Mr. Carlyle. Ben said, “Sir, you had this picture taken in the first few days of December, 1941, just before the attack on Pearl Harbor.”

“What is your point”, screamed an agitated Mr. Carlyle still having trouble rising from the overstuffed chair. “A coincidence of history”.

Continuing to flip the pages, Ben came to the picture of Mr. Carlyle and his friends in Poland.

“Taken late August 1939, Mr. Carlyle, just before the Nazi invasion on September 1, 1939”.
Flipping again, Ben found the picture of Mr. Carlyle in Dallas, in November 1963. “John Kennedy was killed soon after your visit to that time, Mr. Carlyle”, said a resolute Ben.

Flipping page after page and going from picture to picture trying to convince, Mr. Carlyle, Ben stated the facts of history and the links to the photos. Mr. Carlyle had settled in his chair again and was listening.

Flipping the pages, Ben said, “Here in Yekaterinburg, 1918, the last Czar was executed and communist Russia rose”.

Again flipping the album pages, “Here you are Mr. Carlyle in New York, taken September, 9, 2001”.

And more flipping of album ages, “And here, Mr. Carlyle and Mr. Edward Smith, the Titanic’s captain, taken in 1912 on the docks at Southampton England”.

“Here you are in Kodiak, Alaska in March of 1964. Do you know what happened in Alaska in 1964”, cried an almost panicked Ben? “Do you know? Do you see the pattern?”

Now Mr. Carlyle was sadly slumping in the chair which was now almost wrapping him like an envelope making it appear the he was almost trying to disappear.

With a voice filled with growing sadness, Mr. Carlyle said, “Earthquake, tsunami and people died. I never saw. I never saw”, and his head fell sadly in his hand and Mr. Carlyle began to cry.
Mary stood from the couch and went sit on the arm of the chair where Mr. Carlyle sat crying to comfort her friend.

“I am responsible”, said Mr. Carlyle and Mary reached out to comfort her sobbing friend.

“You didn’t know”. Mary was crying now. “You thought you were doing good, having grand adventures and solving the mysteries that time had buried. You didn’t know.”

Looking every bit now like an old man, Mr. Carlyle stared across the room, not moving, not blinking.

Mr. Carlyle, holding his head in his hands said, “I have seen wonders, Ark of the Covenant, the Colossus of Rhodes and more, to numerous to be counted. I have stood at Machu Piccu. I have met Nebuchadnezzar and more kings and queens than you two will ever learn about in any class. But I have saved no one, I have only brought tragedy”.

Mr. Carlyle pulled himself together, now fully realizing the link between time travel and the great tragedies of history. His mind drifted, back to when he was just Noah, husband of Naama and not the traveler of time that he was now.

His thoughts returned to the village of his birth. “How I miss my wife and my father. You know, I met him on my very first travel with the stone, surprised him in his fields”. The pausing a minute, Mr. Carlyle continued, “and on my second trip though time, I flooded my village”.

Stoically and sadly, Mr. Carlyle rose and walked to the salon window. Head hung low, shoulders drooping with sadness, he said, “Mary, Ben, I am responsible for the suffering of millions. I have helped no one, done nothing great. This must stop.”

Quiet enveloped the room. None moved and none said a single word. Mr. Carlyle returned to the soft envelope of the chair. Mary again sat on the couch periodically breaking into tears. Ben now sat crossed legged on the floor staring blankly.

Then quietly Ben said, “We traveled three times today”.

__________________

Next Week... The Conclusion

Chapter 12: I Can't Wait To Get A Look In That Basement

Chapter 10: We Have Changed the World and not in a Good Way

The Present

Time was passing. Soon the body of Luke Nelson would appear on, or at least near the spot he had just disappeared from a minute or two ago.

Ben’s imagination was running wild. “What would he body look like? What would the Earth two billion years ago do to Luke?” Ben kind of hoped that Luke’s body would at least be in one piece. The thought of a dismembered classmate, even one as unlikable and evil as Luke Nelson, made Ben cringe.

He had an urge to run because he in no way wanted to be in that room when Luke reappeared. But then, he also did not want to desert his friends: Mr. Carlyle with his mangled hand and Mary still shaking in shock from her encounter with Luke in the bushes and more recently, in the salon.

“I guess we just wait”, said a far calmer Mr. Carlyle as he glanced at the sequined, bright red clock on the mantle. “We will of course have to tell the authorities, if they’ll believe us. Red Nelson will wonder what happened to his son”.

Mr. Carlyle opened a cabinet, removing a strip of bandage to wrap his throbbing hand. “After the authorities, I guess it’s a trip to the hospital, or prison if Officer Vache will have me”, he laughed nervously.

Ben sat quietly in a corner of the salon, trying to stay as far away as possible from the spot where he thought Luke’s body would reappear. Mary sat on the couch, her knees pulled up off the floor and wrapped tightly by her arms.

Silently the seconds ticked by. “We’re dealing with a time machine but everything seems like eternity”, said Ben as he stared over the broken chairs and tables. He stood and giving the spot where Luke had last been a wide berth, he walked over and looked out the salon window.

Then it happened. Ben gasped and the idea that would change everything, time, life and if Luke was lucky, even death.

“Listen”, hurriedly spoke Ben, “We don’t have a lot of time before Luke’s body returns and I don’t know about you but I’m not exactly going to enjoy being here when it returns but I think I can…” Ben cut off in mid-sentence.

Without warning, what was once Luke Nelson, returned with a sickening plop on the floor. Red and bloated, swollen to a girth twice the size of the previous Luke, the shape just slumped in the center of the broken battered salon. Fluid seeping from the lifeless Luke puddled on the floor of Mr. Carlyle’s salon.

Mary fought back the urge to throw up at the site of what once was Luke. Ben though stared at the body, formulating his plan.

“Quick, find the stone”, yelled Ben to Mary and Mr. Carlyle and with that Ben started searching the shapeless pile of flesh that was once Luke. Holding his breath as long as possible, Ben poked and pulled at the lump that was once Luke Nelson.

Puzzled and more than a little bit grossed out, Mary remained on the couch, well back from the body of Luke. Mr. Carlyle, his hand now wrapped walked over to Ben and stood watching the whole affair.

Gaining composure, Mary said, “Why? How? Er… oh why not”, and she rose from the couch and with one hand covering her mouth and nose, she started searching for what once was Luke Nelson’s hands and the missing stone.

“Got it”, said Ben and he held the stone high to show the others. “Now Mary, Mr. Carlyle, how long ago would you say it was since Luke beat up Mary in the bushes outside the window? Fifteen minutes? Twenty?”

“At least twenty”, said a puzzled Mr. Carlyle and his face turned to a slight grin for then he realized what Ben was planning. He was planning to save Luke.

“Give me the stone Ben. I’ll do it”, said Mr. Carlyle, who was now tying together a make-shift sling for his broken hand.

“No”, said Ben, “Your hurt and Luke is strong, stronger than the both of us. But I will have the element of surprise. I think I can do this.”

“I don’t understand” cried Mary. “Luke’s dead”.

“In this time, Mary, he’s dead in this time”, explained Ben. “But we’ve got eternities to jump through to save, er… to stop him from doing this”. Ben gestured around the destroyed room, Luke’s body and Mr. Carlyle’s broken hand.

“I’ll jump back about twenty-five minutes and see if I can stop Luke before Mary returns from her little trip to the past”, said Ben with a growing confidence.

Mr. Carlyle started to smile just a little more. Ben Dover was growing before his very eyes, gaining a confidence not present in his manner even just a short time before.

“Follow me”, said Ben and he ran from the salon, through the front door to the bushes where Mary had landed when returning from her earlier trip through time. “OK, here’s the bushes where Mary landed. Guess I better go”, said Ben, who was now losing the confidence he had exhibited just minutes earlier.

“You should be there before Mary arrives and even though he’s bigger and meaner, catch Luke totally by surprise”, said Mr. Carlyle.

“Be careful, please”, said Mary who reached out, hugged Ben and gave him a little kiss. Somehow, Ben wished his first kiss would have been a little different and more than ever, he hoped he would survive so that his first kiss would not also be his last.

Rolling the stone over in his hand, Ben said with a shaky voice, “Twenty-five minutes back, ten minutes”. And he was gone.

# # #

Twenty-Five Minutes Ago

Ben arrived, almost silently, twenty-five minutes earlier and directly behind Luke Nelson who was crouching beneath the open salon window. Mary had not yet reappeared and Luke did not notice the appearance of Ben behind him.

Ben leapt on the back of Luke, tightly wrapping his arms about his throat. Pulling backward Ben held on for dear life with growing thoughts that this was perhaps not a good idea.

Luke stood and flailed at the face, head and hands of Ben still wrapped about his neck. Then tumbling backwards out of the bushes Luke landed on top of Ben, knocking the breath out him. Now lying alone on the ground with Luke free of his grip, Ben watched as Luke rose up and hovered over him. Repeatedly kicking and punching Ben, Luke was focused solely on hurting as badly as he could.

“Only ten minutes”, murmured Ben with great pain as he lay huddled in a ball protecting what he could from Luke’s vicious assault. “Soon I’ll be back. Hang on. Just hang on”. He was now very nearly knocked out from the ferocity of Luke’s attack.

Then suddenly and surprisingly, a spray of yellow filled the air and Luke’s assault stopped. His arms dropped to his side and he seemed to rise a little. Then he fell, almost silently, unconscious on the yellow cover grass, just next to Ben.

Ben, splattered in both his own blood and the color yellow, opened his eyes and looked up to see Mary, holding a can of bright yellow paint, its lid off and with a huge, dent in its side, a dent just about the size of Luke’s head.

Mary had returned from her trip to Tink Owens’ field, noticed Luke beating Ben and took matters, or should we say paint cans, into her own hands. Mary had saved him.

And then, for Ben everything went black.

# # #

The Present

“Alright”, thought Ben, he was back and laying just outside the bushes of Mr. Carlyle’s house. Still hurting and beaten, he lay there for a second wondering if he had saved Luke.

“Never really understood how all the ins, outs and cross current of time travel work, but I sure guess you did your job”, said a smiling Mr. Carlyle coming up to the prone Ben and flexing his now unbroken hand.

Rolling over, Ben saw the yellow paint covering the prone body of Luke Nelson. Not dead for sure but obviously still out from the force of Mary’s blow with the paint can.

“History has reset and realigned itself”, said Mr. Carlyle. “Salon’s just as it always has been, Luke’s still most likely his same old nasty self, but a little more brightly colored and we are all fine. Well most of us. I see you’ve got a few bumps and bruises”.

“I’ll take the stone now Ben” and Mr. Carlyle reached out his hand.

Ben was glad to get rid of the stone and he placed it gently in Mr. Carlyle’s hand.

“No disrespect, Mr. Carlyle said Ben rising to his feet, “but we are not fine. We have changed history, who knows how many times and in what ways. We see changes here but what about unseen, unknown changes elsewhere? Perhaps Luke was meant to die. Perhaps, your house was supposed to be broken up. A half hour ago Mary was in the bushes being punched by Luke. Now she’s the one who smacked him with a can of yellow paint. Perhaps you were never meant to chat with Jesus. Maybe, Roosevelt never met you”.

Pausing for just a second, Ben continued, “Mr. Carlyle, we just don’t know how we have change things with our time travels”.

Stunned, Mr. Carlyle just stood silently in his front yard. Mary was now sitting on a small log. Luke was stirring, looking like he was trying to crawl away. And Ben, well Ben was now in tears. “We do not know what we did or what will change”, he sobbed.

Then suddenly, Ben knew the real time travel problem. The tales of Mr. Carlyle’s travels revealed the truth. Taken just one story at a time they were tales of great adventures and famous people but when linked together, the truth emerged, a terrible truth.

Ben saw and saw more clearly than either Mr. Carlyle or Mary.

"Mr. Carlyle", said Ben somberly, "We have changed the world and not in a good way".

__________

Next week:

Chapter 11 - We Traveled Three Times Today

Chapter 9: An Investigation Was Begun But No Answers Were Found

The Present

Now Ben and Mary were even more stunned and unbelieving, than when Mr. Carlyle announced that he was Noah.

“I wasn’t going to say that, Mary”, said Mr. Carlyle, “but when you addressed me as Noah, I guess I was surprised and it just came out. I have not heard my name like that since my dear, dear Naama let my name slip from her lips as she died. … died almost eight thousand years ago in my arms after I returned from a travel”.

And with that Mr. Carlyle slumped and once again appeared frail and weak, remembering Naama, her love and their life.

“Naama was my wife”, said Mr. Carlyle with tears flowing freely down his cheeks. “We lived in a small village that today is under the waters of what is called the Black Sea”.

Mr. Carlyle could see that he was overwhelming Mary and Ben with his tales and he could also see that they were far from believing him. Ben seemed to try to sink ever deeper into Mr. Carlyle’s plaid couch and Mary was shuffling nervously from foot to foot near the open window in the salon.

“I must do this now”, whispered Mr. Carlyle to himself. Walking toward the basement stairs, he seemed to regain his vigor and health. To him the decision he had just made to share his secret with these two children had lifted a burden from his shoulders, relief from deciding to share his millennium long burden, the secret of his being and life.

“Wait here guys and don’t move”, said Carlyle, “I and going to get the greatest secret ever. Then you shall believe”.

Mr. Carlyle opened the basement door, stepped in and disappeared into the dim lights below. Ben squirmed as each old wooden stair creaked. Mary just listened.

# # #

“Mary”, whispered Ben, “do you think we should get out of here? After all, Noah, er Mr. Carlyle is scaring me”.

“Shhhhh Ben”, said Mary, “I’m trying to listen and besides I still believe that Mr. Carlyle is just a nice old man, a bit eccentric but nothing for us to worry about”. Mary walked from the window, across the room and pressed her ear against the basement door.

“I just hear some boxes being pushed around”, she said.

“Mary the more I think about this the more I think we should scram”, said Ben”.

“Quiet, he’s coming back” and Mary practically leapt from her spot at the door to the couch where Ben still sat.

The basement door definitely needed oil on its hinges and made an eerie nose as it swung open to reveal Mr. Carlyle holding a small box wrapped in seemingly ancient paper.

“Jewelry”, asked a nervous Mary?

“Oh much more precious than jewelry, my dear child”, said a very happy Mr. Carlyle. “This is the secret, the greatest secret ever and I have kept it, maybe selfishly to myself for thousands of years”.

Placing the box on the table in front of the couch, Mr. Carlyle slowly untied the strings holding the yellowed paper wrapping in place. Mary and Ben lean forward, their curiosity overcoming any worries they had about Mr. Carlyle.

Mr. Carlyle took from the small box a small, oval stone.

Almost instinctively, Ben reached he hand forward and said, “Can I hold that Mr. Carlyle?”

With a start Mr. Carlyle quickly pulled back from the children, “Don’t touch it, at least not yet. And when you do, do not utter a word. Not a sound. Not a peep for this stone is the secret of secrets. It is time travel”.

Mary would have laughed if Mr. Carlyle had not been so serious. Ben was again scanning the room for any possible exit since the graveness of Mr. Carlyle’s tone of voice was now certainly scaring him.

Mr. Carlyle continued, “I will hold it, turn it for you to examine but be extremely careful for in ones hands saying the wrong thing could make you disappear for ever or even send you to a time where you life would be in grave peril”.

“Trial and error, over the many years, taught me the secrets of the stone. I’m still not sure I know all the secrets”.

“I have never understood the writings etched into it but I have learned how to travel time and even control my length of stay before returning to the present”.

Placing the stone on the table, Mr. Carlyle again walked and peered out the window. “Don’t touch”, he said sternly.

“Using the power of this stone I have lived far longer that any man, far longer that I ever should have. I have seen wonderful and terrible things. I have learned more secrets that I must forever keep hidden than any before”.

“Did you know that Jesus had quite a sense of humor and loved to pull practical jokes on Peter, James and the rest? We met sometime around 30AD or perhaps a few years after.”

“And Alexander, well I joined him in Babylon near the end of his life. A very serious man but generous with his friends, although he really had few that were close”, said Mr. Carlyle.

“I see my stories are just the stories of an old man and not convincing. Right Mary? Right Ben”, said a smiling Mr. Carlyle. “I think I must show you to convince you”.

Walking from the window to the table, Mr. Carlyle picked up the stone, rolled it several times in his hands as if thinking. Then he said clearly and firmly, “5 minutes ahead, 5 seconds”.

Mr. Carlyle was gone.

Ben jumped in surprise from the couch. Mary gaped wordless and the empty spot where Mr. Carlyle had stood. And then before either could move or utter a word, Mr. Carlyle reappeared on the exact spot where eh had stood.

“How?” yelled Ben. And Mary rising from the couch was still silent. Mr. Carlyle with a slight smile at the proof he was presenting moved toward the open window and said “Just wait and don’t move”.

No one in the room could have moved, they were all glued in amazement and some fear to their spots. There was just some slight rustling from the open window. “The wind blowing through”, thought Mr. Carlyle and the breeze felt good.

Then after what seemed a lifetime, there appeared in the room Mr. Carlyle on the exact spot he was standing just five minutes before. “Hello children”, the second Mr. Carlyle said and turning to the other Mr. Carlyle in the room continued “And good day to you or me as it may be”. Then the second Mr. Carlyle disappeared and the remaining Mr. Carlyle laughed, “Is that proof enough”?

# # #

“Children, you can speak”, said a grinning Mr. Carlyle to the two silent children, stunned by the disappearance and reappearance of the several Mr. Carlyles.

Placing the stone on the table, he said with an obvious glee, “Never quite figured how it does it but I’ve never had any problems bumping into myself, somewhere in time and I’ve never appeared in the middle of a stone, table, wall or anything. Somehow the stone knows and keeps the traveler safe”.

Rising and inching slowly toward Mr. Carlyle, Mary said sheepishly, “Can I try it”?

Ben, startled at Mary’s request yelled, “No Mary, don’t”.

“There’s a first time for everything Mary”, said a calm Mr. Carlyle, “sure you can, but only do and say what I tell you too. Nothing more. Nothing less”.

Ben now sat quietly on the couch as Mary rose and approached Mr. Carlyle.

No more seriously, Mr. Carlyle said, “I understand you are studying the history of Owens Farm in school, true?”

A nervous Mary quietly replied, “True”.

“Perhaps you would like to visit a time before the village of Owens Farm existed? A time when farming dominated the land and the hills were not stripped mined for their coal”.

A quite Mary muttered, “OK”.

Mr. Carlyle picked the stone up from the table, placed it softly in Mary’s hand. “Don’t utter a sound, roll the stone a few times in your hand to warm it and get the feel of its surface.

Mary, not moving a muscle anywhere in her body except the hand holding the stone rolled it slowly, afraid of what might happen if she dropped it.

“Now repeat this exactly”, continued Mr. Carlyle, “Eighty-Eight years back, five minutes”.

Mary puzzled, “Why eight-eight years Mr. Carlyle? Why not ninety or one hundred? May be the first trip should be…”

Cutting her off with a slight wave of his hand, Mr Carlyle. Said, “Mary, trust me. I think you’ll enjoy it”.

“Oh and whatever you do, please do not drop the stone. It must return with you. Only once before did it not return with its owner and I am not sure what happened”.

Now with the building excitement of an adventure that perhaps few in history had ever done before, Mary clutched the stone with all her strength and loudly and bravely proclaimed, “Eighty-eight years back, five minutes”. And she was gone from the room.

Mr. Carlyle smiled. Ben tried to sink even lower into the protection of the couch.

The only noise in the room was the rusting sounds filtering in through the open window.

“And now we wait”.

# # #

88 Years Ago

For just the briefest of time, things went completely black for Mary. The there she was standing in a recently plowed field, surrounded by gentle rolling hills, some farmed, some left with their forested slopes intact and growing.

Disoriented, Mary stood silently, slowly turning and looking at the foreign, yet somewhat familiar landscape around her. The ground on which she stood had just a few sprouts pushing up ever so slightly through the loose soil.

Then panic engulfed her. “The Stone. Mr. Carlyle said not to drop it. Could I get back? Mr. Carlyle never told me”, she though. Reassuring herself that she still had a firm grip on the stone, Mary took a few tentative steps then several more.

“Five minutes”, she silently thought, “I’ve only got five minutes”.

Again panic set in. “How will I know when the five minutes are up? Do I have to be on the exact spot that I left from? Where is that spot?” and immediately, she tried to retrace her steps.

Suddenly, Mary sensed someone or something behind her. She instinctively started to run and ran for several yards. Then she spun quickly around to confront whatever was behind her, tripped over a stone and fell to the ground.

Rising again, she now saw the figure just a few feet from her. “This can’t be”, she gasped and dropped to her knees, stunned.

Looking up, the figure was closer now, quietly she said, “Mr. Carlyle”?

Raising his hand to his chin and stroking his beard, the figure calmly said, “I must be getting soft in the future, letting other people use the stone. You are using the stone, aren’t you, the way you just appeared in my field and all?”

Mary tried standing, but in the soft soil and with a badly scrapped knee, she instantly sat back down on the ground. “Yes”, she softly replied observing the small trickle of blood now flowing slowly down her leg.

“Well, around here I’m Tink Owens. I kind of wanted a name nobody else had. Wonder how I ever came up with Carlyle”, the figure said again stoking his beard, apparently getting lost deep in thought. “How much you got”?

Mary didn’t know how to answer. How much what she thought. Money maybe? Food?

Sensing her puzzlement, Tink continued, “The instructions to the stone. How much time you got?”

“Five minutes… er no… maybe two now. Mr. Carlyle, I mean Mr. Owens”, said Mary.

‘I guess this is your first trip, eh? Well you and the Stone should be back in your own time soon, ready for your next adventure. If I let you”, said Tink Owens laughing out loud in a booming voice. “If I let you”.

Mary relaxed just a bit. Mr. Owens had the same friendly personality as Mr. Carlyle. “Duh”, she immediately thought, “they should after all they are the same person”.

“Mr. Owens“, Mary said, “will you remember me when I get back? Will you remember this little conversation?”

Puzzled, Mr. Owens took a few steps, always seeming to stroke his beard. “I don’t know”, he said, “I never met another time traveler. Hey, I never even met myself anywhere. I don’t know”.

Then with a gasp, Mary panicked again, the stone was no longer in her hand. First searching her pockets and then the ground immediately around her, she realized that she must have dropped it as she ran across the field trying to get away from Tink Owens.

“Mr. Carlyle, I dropped the stone somewhere running away from you”, she cried out, “The fall in the field, where did I fall”?

Mary began to run as fast as her scrapped knee would let her to the place she though she might have dropped the stone. Tink Owens followed close behind. Over and over in her mind, she tried to calculate, “How many minutes do I have left”.

Tink Owens, glancing quickly around knew that the stone must be found, otherwise Mary would return to her time and he would be left with two time traveling stones. Sweating from the running in the field and worry, Tink Owens wondered, ”What will this do? What will this do”?

There about five yards ahead of Mary was a rock obviously foreign to the rich dark dirt of the corn field, sitting on top of the soil and glinting slightly off white in the sun light.

Time was short, Mary had no choice but to lunge for the stone whether it was the correct one or not. Letting out a little yell from the pain of her scrapes and bruises, she dove for the rock, closed her fingers around it and then everything went dark and silent.

# # #

The Present

“Ow”, screamed Mary as a branch from a bush slapped against her face. Pushing the branch away, a calm fell over the bruised, bleeding Mary. She was back and in the bushes just outside of Mr. Carlyle’s house. “Thank God”, she said.

But she was not alone and staring back at her, a few feet away, was Luke Nelson, who was shocked at sudden arrival of another person.

Not being bright enough to really question where Mary had come from so quickly or how he never heard her coming, Luke jumped to the spot in the bushes where Mary was struggling to untangle herself.

Then with a ferocity Luke had never exhibited before, he kicked her and said, “Don’t tell ‘em I was lis’nin at the window”. Kicking her once again, Luke disappeared around the corner of the house. Mary slumped weakly in the tangle of bushes.

“Mary”, cried Mr. Carlyle leaning out of the salon window, “I hear you out there. Welcome back and how was your little trip”?

“Who did you meet”, said Mr. Carlyle with a slight, knowing smile. “Some handsome guy, perhaps” and he started laughing.

Still doubled over from the pain of Luke’s kicks and out of breath Mary couldn’t speak. She squeezed her hand reassuringly, the stone was still there. It had returned with her.

Now Mr. Carlyle was concerned. He saw the bruised and bleeding Mary lying exhausted in the bushes outside his salon window. “Wait up Mary, we’re coming”, said a worried Mr. Carlyle”.

“I never should have let her go”, Mr. Carlyle said over and over with a cry in his voice, as he and Ben charged out of the house to the bushes holding Mary. “She just wasn’t ready, too young, too young”.

Mr. Carlyle and Ben reached the bushes which still held the battered Mary.

“He…….. Knows………”, panted Mary in a voice to silent to be heard by Mr. Carlyle who was now gently picking her up to carry her into the house.

“She’s trying to say something”, said Ben.

“Mary, don’t talk. I’ll take you inside. Ben get a doctor”, said Mr. Carlyle.

“No”, whispered Mary in a voice they finally heard.

“OK, no doctor, yet”, emphasized Mr. Carlyle realizing that Mary was probably going to be alright, “but here, rest a bit before you try to speak and tell us your story”.

Mr. Carlyle laid Mary on the couch in his salon, removed the stone from her hand and placed it on the table.

“He….. Kno….”, Mary tried to say again but she was cut short by Mr. Carlyle giving her a glass of water brought by Ben from the Kitchen.

“I’m so sorry Mary”, said Mr. Carlyle, “I never should have let you go back so far. Far too dangerous. Far too dangerous”.

Regaining her strength, Mary screamed, “Everyone stop. He knows. He knows. He knows”. Panicking, Mary grabbed the collar of Mr. Carlyle’s brightly colored jacket. “He knows”, she said firmly and definitively.

“Mary, I don’t understand”, said a confused Mr. Carlyle. “Ben does this mean anything to you”?

Before Ben could answer, a figure emerged from the darkness of the next room.

“I know”, the dark figure said as it smashed a chair to pieces one swing of a baseball bat it was carrying menacingly in it right had.

Silence and fear filled the room. Then Luke Nelson smashed another chair. Mr. Carlyle threw himself on Mary, who lay recuperating on the couch in an attempt to protect her from flying bits of wood and nails from the broken chairs. Ben dove under the table in the corner of the salon.

“I know and I’m taking this little stone of yours”, snarled Luke as he paced around the room. “I’m gonna change everything. I’m gonna rule the world. Maybe you should bow to me now for soon I’m gonna be your king”.

Hovering over the three crouching figures, Luke raised the bat again and sent it crashing down on the table protecting Ben. Then with growing ferocity, he swung the bat over and over again in the air above Mr. Carlyle, who was still protecting Mary with his body.

Pictures shook on the walls. Vases and other items crashed to the floor in a rising din. The Luke stopped and reached for the stone lying on the table and said, “I am in charge”.

Realizing the damage and terror that would arise from a mad man or in this case boy controlling the stone, Mr. Carlyle dove from the couch to the table and grasped for the stone.

Luke swung the bat again. Wham smashing it into Mr. Carlyle’s out reached hand with vengeance. Cringing in pain from his shattered hand, Mr. Carlyle pulled back. Luke’s attention, moved momentarily from the crumpled shape of Mr. Carlyle to the stone laying on the table. He reached out and lifted the stone and held it aloft as if looking for a diamond-like glimmer or a window into the world he was going to create.

Apparently for emphasis since he was in no danger from the three cowering figures, Luke spun with a wild vengeance, smashing the club with ever growing rage over and over again into the walls of the salon.

Mary, Ben and Mr. Carlyle, now huddled together for safety, cringed with each blow of the bat. Mr. Carlyle was bleeding but still trying to shield the two children from the madman destroying everything in the room.

Finally rising and holding his broken bleeding hand to his chest, Mr. Carlyle said calmly, “Luke is it? I don’t believe that we’ve ever met but I need you to trust me. Please. I want to warn you that what you hold is perhaps the most dangerous item every found on this earth. Look what it almost did to Mary.”

“Mary’s nothing. I wish it would have finished her”, snarled Luke caressing the stone more and more in his fingers. “Maybe for my first trip, before I make myself king, I’ll go back and do her in myself. Or perhaps beat her parents so silly that so she’ll never be born”.

Gathering courage, Ben spoke. “Luke calm down”, said Ben, “I know we haven’t been friends but you’ve got to believe us, this is bad, really bad”.

“Hey Ben…. Ben Dover…. Beating you up for all these years has been the minor leagues. Now with this, “and he held the stone aloft again, “I am King Luke. No maybe god-Luke”. And he laughed, a laugh more evil than even Mr. Carlyle with all his time travels had ever heard. “Watch and learn…”, Luke said.

With that Luke smashed the table shielding the crippled Mr. Carlyle, Ben and Mary. Then they heard Luke muttering to himself, “Where to go? Where to go first?”

Ben realized that someone had to do something and that Mary and Mr. Carlyle were in no condition help. But then again, Luke was almost twice his size.

“I know”, said Luke with an evil certainty that brought a chill to the room. “Where there is one stone like this, there must be more, more to start an army of time travelers loyal to me and only me. An army to worship me.”

Rolling the Stone over in his hand, Luke could feel a growing power. Confused at first, soon it was part of him, willing to take him where he commanded.

“The beginning it is. I’ll find the fools who made this little beauty and get more and more”, he said looking at the stone.

“Let me see if I remember how this little beauty works, Mr. Carlyle”, said Luke turning toward Mary, Luke and Mr. Carlyle. “Just say how far to travel and how long to stay.”

“I seem to have her’erd somewhere”, said Luke, “that rocks is old, really old. Two billion or so ought to do it. No, no, no better be safe. Two and one half billion”.

Almost in unison, Ben and Mr. Carlyle cried out “No”, but it was too late. Luke raising the bat to a menacing attack position forced them to stop. Holding the rock in his right hand and said loudly and clearly, “Two billion five hundred million years back, ten minutes”.

And Luke disappeared.

Mr. Carlyle dropped to his knees and with his head in his hands, started sobbing. “He’s dead”.

“No Mr. Carlyle”, yelled Ben, “He’ll be back in just ten minutes. We must get help to stop him”.

Dropping to his knees, Mr. Carlyle said, “No Ben. He’s already dead. The earth of two billion years ago has already removed any threat he was to us”.

# # #

2.5 Billion Years Ago

The creatures that Luke had landed among looked on in puzzled amazement at the thing that appeared out of nowhere in their midst.

Thrashing about violently and struggling to breath in their methane atmosphere, the strange creature died quickly and in great agony.

After a brief examination, these creatures noticed that a long strange cylindrical object and an almost familiar looking stone that had arrived with their strange visitor.

It looked remarkably like their own time traveling stone, the one lost by the priest many years before. Gathering around the lifeless body, one started reaching for the stone still clutched in the creature’s lifeless hand.

But the lifeless creature and the stone vanished as quickly as it had arrived.

Looking at one another, they nodded knowingly, “Time travel. The Stone was not lost”. Summoning their scientists, an investigation was begun but no answers were ever found.

_____________________

Next week:

Chapter 10: We Have Changed The World And Not In A Good Way

Chapter 8: The Noise Outside The Window Should Have Been Noticed

The Present

Stunned a first, Ben wiggled nervously in his chair for he had never seen Mr. Carlyle like this. Mary, sitting next to him gasped and then began laughing uproariously.

“Mr. Carlyle”, said Mary still giggling, “this is a very fine joke you have played on us. Ben, don’t you see, he’s teaching us a lesson for poking around where we shouldn’t”.

Ben too then smiled and saw the ridiculousness of the joke. “Noah’s a nice name”, said Ben almost mockingly. “I was in school once with a kid named Noah, very smart”.

Mr. Carlyle though stood silently and walked to a tall lime green cabinet in the corner of the salon. Opening the door he took out a worn photo album and placing it under his arm turned to face the still grinning children.

“I didn’t expect you to believe me, at first and I wasn’t sure that I was going to tell you but your poking around, WHERE YOU SHOULDN’T BE”, he said very sternly, “has told me that I must confess and soon put my travels and life at an end”.

“The statement I am Noah, is of course seemingly preposterous” said a much more serious Mr. Carlyle than Ben or Mary had ever known.

“Most of my proof is only anecdotal, for the camera was only created about one hundred and fifty years ago”, said Mr. Carlyle, “but I need you two to take a look at this”. And he placed a worn photo album on the checkerboard patterned coffee table.

“But first let me tell you my story. As unbelievable as it seems, I am the character you know as Noah. In Sumer I was Utnapishtim in their myths. In Greece I was called King Deucalion, but my real name, the name given to me by Lamech , my father, is Noah.”

Ben squirmed nervously and wondered just what can of worms he and Mary had opened by poking their noses where they shouldn’t. He thought that Mr. Carlyle was going crazy right before his eyes and he wanted to make a dash for the door, but he couldn’t leave Mary. Besides, Mr. Carlyle blocked a clear path.

“Mr. Carlyle continued, “The photo there on the mantle, is one of me and Franklin Roosevelt. We met briefly at the White House in December 1941. Does that date mean any thing to either of you?”

Mary leaned forward in her chair. “Just before Pearl Harbor, Mr. Carlyle, but that was over 70 years ago. How…”

“Please Mary, listen and let me continue”, said Carlyle opening the worn photo album. “Ben do you recognize these people?” Turning the album, Ben leaned over and peered at the photo.

“The people sure dress different that around here”, said Ben, “Are they in Europe?”

“Eastern Europe, Ben. That’s me in the foreground and behind are Jozef and Osip, two folks I became quick friends with during a brief stay with them. Oh how Osip could sing, a rich deep baritone that would have graced any opera troupe. And Josef, well farming was his passion. He had a little laboratory in his home, doing experiments with seeds and soils. He was always going try to improve the fields around his village. Sadly though neither friend would have a very long life or accomplish their dreams”.

“Look at the sign post, Ben”, continued Mr. Carlyle.

Looking carefully in the background of the photo, Ben slowly spelled out “O-s-w-i-e-c-i-m”. Sounding out the letters, Ben said “Os We Chim”.

“Actually, the sign post is Polish and your pronunciation is really quite off. You would know the town by its German name, Auschwitz” said Mr. Carlyle.

Mary gasped. “You were there”, she said with almost a cry in here voice. “My mom told me of several distant cousins imprisoned there”.

“Yes Mary, I was there. This photo was taken in August 1939, just after I had dinner with these two dear people“, said Mr. Carlyle crying. “They were slain several years after”.

An awkward silence filled the salon for several minutes. Ben finally reached and took hold of Mr. Carlyle’s hand and said, ““Mr. Carlyle, I don’t under stand”. Ben now feeling more awkward than scared watched Mr. Carlyle wipe tears from his eyes. “Mr. Carlyle, that was maybe 80 years ago”.

Rising to stand again, Mr. Carlyle started to walk back to the lime green cabinet. “He’s looking much weaker than I’ve ever seen him`”, thought Ben.

“Do you believe that I’m Noah yet?” asked Carlyle. Ben stared nervously at the floor as Mary shuffled her feet and readjusted her coat trying to find any comfortable position again. Sensing that Ben and Mary in no way believed the tales they were being told Mr. Carlyle began flipping the pages of the photo album in rapid succession.

“Here look at this picture. It’s me and some missionaries in Rwanda in the spring of 1994. And this one, I’m visiting Dallas in November 1963. This picture was taken of me in Yekaterinburg in 1918”. Sensing that his message was not getting through to Ben and Mary, Mr. Carlyle closed the photo album, breathed a deep sigh and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

After what seemed like forever to Ben and Mary, but was really just about a minute, Mr. Carlyle spoke again.

“Don’t believe me do you? If you can’t believe these photographs how can I ever make you believe that before you is a man who stood with Paris before the walls of Troy or visited Jerusalem as Nebuchadnezzar laid siege”.

“And you Mr. Dover” said Mr. Carlyle, turning to face Ben who was now trying to sink as low as possible in the chair, “You would be wise to ask me of the crossing to Maryland of the great sailing ship the Ark. I was amused by the name of the ship and the stories often told of me, so I signed on board”.

“Back then time travel was a game for me, so as a joke I took the name Mr. Games and signed on the Ark for the journey to what was to become Maryland”.

“Incidentally Ben, after we became friends, I did a little research on your family. On the Ark with me was Ben Warner, a distant relative of yours. I taught him all I knew about gunnery and cannons. Quick learner he was. Nimble mind. Oh you should have seen America then and perhaps I could be persuaded to…”

Mary sensing that Mr. Carlyle was starting to ramble stood slowly and walked to his side.

“Mr. Carlyle”, said Mary, “These pictures show that you’ve been in some famous places and met some famous people but still, many people lie about their age and sometimes even make up fanciful stories and we are loving these stories, really we are.”

“Dear Mary, I’m sorry for scaring you and I did get a little carried away but you are the first people I’ve told of my travels since my wife died almost 8000 years ago. I did so want someone to believe me.”

Ben was now standing next to the sitting Mr. Carlyle. “Sir” he said, “you could be 100 years old, in great shape and be here living now and still be in all those photos. I’m sorry Mr. Carlyle but I can’t believe you are Noah or the right hand man of Paris or the gunner accompanying the settlers of Maryland”.

“And perhaps I shouldn’t ask you to”, said a quiet Mr. Carlyle. “Mary, Ben, all I tell you is true and yes I am an old man, nearing death ever more every day, I knew that one day I had to tell someone my story. I had to”. Mr. Carlyle’s voice grew weaker.

To Ben it seemed that the vibrant, alive Mr. Carlyle who had caught them going through his private albums had now become, before their eyes, a very old man, weaker even than just minutes before as he was relating his fanciful tales. “Perhaps he really was 100 years old”, thought Ben “but to be Noah, that was nowhere near possible”.

Mary, feeling very sad at the now feeble Mr. Carlyle thought to herself, “For God’s sake Mary, he’s an old man. What harm can it be playing along with his tales?”

“Mr. Carlyle”, said Mary.

“Yes my dear”, replied Mr. Carlyle weakly.

“As Noah…”.

Ben turned quickly to Mary wondering if Mr. Carlyle had convinced her that his stories of grandeur were true. Mary gave Ben a look that sternly said to play along with her or don’t say a word. Ben decided on the latter and bit the inside of his cheeks so as to not be tempted to utter a word.

Mary continued, “Mr. Carlyle. Umm… Mr. Noah, how are you still alive after so long?”

Mr. Carlyle smiled, rose and walked slowly to the window of the salon. Pulling back the brilliantly colored curtains, he peered outside at the setting sun and said in a loud clear voice, “I travel time”.

The noise outside the window should have been noticed, but those in the salon just stared, at each other blocking outside world.

___________________

Next week:

Chapter 9: An investigation was begun but no answers were found