Awake Page 10

  “Let me get back to what I was saying,” Johnson said. “I want to make sure I spell everything out.”

  “Fine,” Matheson said.

  “Now, this technology to create worm holes is based on research we've been doing on individuals who seem to have the ability to create these wormholes simply by thinking of them. Individuals like yourself. Correct?”

  “How would you know that I could do that?”

  “These wormholes can be detected,” Johnson said. “They generate these electrical signatures for a brief period of time. Once our scientists could replicate how to create a wormhole, they found out about the electrical signatures. We've had monitoring equipment installed at military installations, and other areas, to see if we could find others who could portal jump on their own. That's how we found you.”

  “Portal jump?”

  “It's slang our scientists use,” Johnson explained. “The individuals who can create wormholes can 'jump' through these 'portals' and it's easier to understand than 'wormhole,'” Johnson smiled.

  “I see,” Matheson said. “Go on.”

  “The thing is, no one understands how it's possible to create these wormholes, nor does anyone know what possible consequences there may be whenever a wormhole is opened.”

  “Consequences?” Matheson asked. “What do you mean?”

  “We're dealing with things that have so far only been theoretical. If people can open up the fabric of time and space and just...travel through it at will, there's no telling what kind of effect it might have.”

  “Chaos theory,” Matheson said.

  “Exactly! But our scientists just don't know what kinds of consequences there may be, if any. At the same time, the government wants to be able to control this technology, and to monitor the people who can do it without artificial means.”

  “And how do I fit into this?”

  “The government is wanting to create a department of agents to monitor the usage of these portals. There's particular concern that...”

  “People are going back in time and changing things,” Matheson said. “Right?”

  “Right,” Johnson said. “But it's more than that. Imagine someone who can do what you can do being hired by a foreign government to carry out assassinations? Or someone recruited by a terrorist group to carry out bombings? It'd be very easy to do either thing. And it's one thing that we can detect when these portals are opened, but we need to have people who can then jump to where the portal has been opened and stop whatever is going down.”

  “And you want me to be a part of this team?”

  “Exactly. But before that, we need your help with something else.”

  “Major Thomas?” Matheson asked.

  “Ha, maybe we DID speak in some other life,” Johnson said, looking more troubled than amused. “But yes. I have informants that tell me Major Thomas is recruiting a group of portal jumpers, and while he's told some of them he wants to form some kind of altruistic group to do good things, I've also heard he wants to get into the business of assassinations, and bombings.”

  “He mentioned something like that to me,” Matheson said. “But carrying out assassinations? I can't see Thomas doing that. He's not a violent man.”

  “From what my informant tells me, he sees this as doing good for the world. He sees it as the opportunity to rid the world of violent dictators. But we can't have someone operating like that. It may be a noble cause, but it's still murder, unless it's sanctioned by the government.”

  “And it's not murder, then?” Matheson said.

  “Of course not,” Johnson said. “With Her Majesty's seal of approval it's...being patriotic.”

  “That's one way of looking at it.”

  “That's the stance this government is going to take,” Johnson said. “We want you to join up with Major Thomas. Find out what he's up to, find out what his group is up to. We know he's recruited several portal jumpers. We also know that each portal jumper seems to be able to control different kinds of portals. We want to find out the extent of their abilities.”

  “Your informant can't tell you all of this?”

  “My informant isn't in the inner-circle,” Johnson said. “You could be in it. I need to know from a first-hand source, not a second or third-hand source.”

  “Suppose I become part of this inner-circle. Suppose I find out everything you've suspected to be true is true. What then? What happens to Thomas?”

  “There is a plan in place to deal with that,” Johnson said. “But one step at a time. Let's see if we can find out something definitive to work with.”

  “I'd feel like I'm betraying him if I do this,” Matheson said. “We fly together. We have to be able to trust one another. Every day I put my life into his hands, and he puts his into mine. You're asking a lot of me, Johnson.”

  “Yes sir, I am,” Johnson said. “But there's a bigger picture to consider. And suppose Major Thomas were to get a...taste for contract killings? It can be quite lucrative.”

  “I've not known him to be influenced by money,” Matheson said.

  “Maybe not,” Johnson replied. “But everyone can be tempted.”

  “I suppose,” Matheson said. “Okay, I'll see what I can find out.”

  “Very good,” Johnson said; he stood and handed Matheson a card. “This has my private phone number and email address. If you contact me by email you'll need to send it encrypted.”

  Matheson stood. “I can do that,” he said.

  “I'll be in country for the next couple of weeks. After that I'll be at our headquarters in Vancouver.”

  “I'll be in touch,” Matheson said.

  * * *

  In the following weeks Matheson tried to engage with Thomas about the group he was putting together; Thomas was uncharacteristicly quiet on the subject, and he didn't seem particularly interested in having Matheson join up.

  They discussed it one night at the officer's club. For a change Matheson decided to try a pint of beer. He wasn't sure if he was doing a good job of hiding the grimace on his face with each sip he took.

  “You don't seem very interested in having me join up with your group,” Matheson began. “I've been thinking about it; I think you're right about wanting to help people, and it would be great to use this ability for good.”

  Thomas smiled, but it didn't touch his eyes. “Charles, I appreciate the offer, but I wouldn't want you involved in something you might end up objecting to. I know you don't want to use your ability in the ways it should be used. If push came to shove and I needed you to do something important, you wouldn't go against your ideals. I do admire that, Charles, but our ideals have to...mesh up.”

  “You're talking about making changes in the past, aren't you?” Matheson said. He took another drink of his beer and tried to cover his reaction by putting his hand in front of his mouth.

  “Not necessarily,” Thomas said. “But it could be an option. We shouldn't just rule it out. There are so many wrongs that could be set right.”

  “I know you believe that, Jeff, but could it be that those wrongs weren't meant to be made right? You're playing god when you do that.”

  “I could argue you're doing the same thing. Who are you to decide what can be changed, and what can't?” he looked at Matheson and smiled his smile again that didn't touch his eyes. “Maybe I know that a change in the past doesn't have to have the...dire consequences you keep predicting. Did you ever think of that? I have a guy who can portal jump into the past. Maybe he's making changes all the time. How would anyone even know? I could have had him change your past, Charles. You wouldn't be any the wiser for it.”

  The word paralyzed jumped into Matheson's mind for a moment. “How can you be so sure that there isn't a consequence to changing the past? Maybe things have happened that you wouldn't even associate with making changes.”

  Thomas laughed. “Or maybe if there were consequences it would be something that was...easy to fix. Again, no one would even know.”

  “Pu
tting time travel aside...I think you still could use me for other projects. If you have someone that can jump to the past, you wouldn't need me to do it.”

  “My guy is limited in how far back he can go. Are you?”

  “I don't know,” Matheson admitted. “I'm not sure I am limited. I've never really tried.”

  “That's the thing, Charles. You have so much power yet you don't even want to use it, even if it's for good. I don't understand that.”

  “It's just that I don't know how it all works,” Matheson said cautiously. “Maybe if I had a better idea of how to do it, and what I was capable of doing, it would be easier to use this ability.”

  “Yet you rarely use it; you don't seem very interested in exploring the boundaries of this power,” Thomas countered.

  Matheson sighed. He had only finished off half his beer and wasn't keen on drinking the rest, but he took a drink anyway. “I suppose you're right, Jeff. Maybe if I...experimented with this ability, I'd feel better about using it.”

  “There you go,” Thomas said. “Why don't you do that? Maybe when you're more comfortable with doing it, we can talk again. I could use someone with your power, Charles, but I need someone who isn't going to be afraid to use their power.”

  * * *

  The next day, Matheson contacted Ed Johnson. There were several places at the air base to make a phone call, and Matheson found a private booth near the enlisted club.

  Matheson hoped the line he was calling was secure; he dialed the number. It was picked up on the second ring.

  “Johnson.”

  “Warrant Officer Johnson, it's leftenant Matheson. Thought I'd check in with you.”

  “Thanks for calling, sir,” Johnson said. “What's up?”

  “I've been talking to Major Thomas. Initially he wasn't interested in having me join his...group. I think I may have convinced him to let me in.”

  “Good news.”

  “The thing is, he wants me to practice using my own ability before he'll let me join.”

  “That may be a good idea, sir,” Johnson said. “If you're going to work with us, we'd want you to know the full range of what you can do. The scientists studying this phenomenon believe that it's even possible to jump to alternative worlds. Parallel universes. It all sounds crazy to me, but they think it's possible.”

  “I don't know about that,” Matheson replied. “But I suppose it's possible. Major Thomas hinted pretty strongly that his people are already going back into time and making...well, changes, I guess.”

  “Is that so?” Johnson said. “I don't suppose he gave some indication as to what kinds of changes?”

  “No, he didn't. But the weird thing is when we talk I get this feeling like I almost know what those changes are. Even stranger is that each time I talk to him there's this association in my mind of paralysis. It's almost like it's on the tip of my tongue, you know? Like if I thought about it, I'd...remember. And I keep feeling like we've talked about all of this, before.”

  “Maybe that's a common feeling for you portal jumpers,” Johnson suggested.

  “Maybe,” Matheson said. “I think I will experiment with this ability. It seems it would be a good idea to have control over it.”

  “Very good, sir,” Johnson said. “Let me know if you find out anything more about Major Thomas.”

  “Will do,” Matheson said. Johnson said good-bye, and Matheson hung up the phone.

  Not aware that only a few feet away, hidden in a shimmering pool of light, someone was listening.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Aside from a few instances on his own, the only time Charles Matheson had attempted to experiment with his ability had been with Major Thomas; he wasn't entirely sure how to go about it.

  Creating the portal involved visualization and concentration; Matheson didn't know exactly what he should be visualizing.

  One thought kept recurring to him: the thought that Thomas shouldn’t be walking; he couldn't shake this feeling, no matter that it didn't make any sense.

  As he pondered this, Matheson heard the familiar crinkling sound the portal created as it manifested. He opened his eyes to see that he had just created one. Peering through, he could make out the base's hospital.

  A good of place as any to start, he thought, and stepped through.

  He emerged through near the entrance of the hospital. He wasn't getting a sense of when, as he normally did.He entered the hospital; it was cool and quiet inside.

  The waiting room was filled with people, speaking quietly. He noticed a newspaper on a couch, and headed over to take a look at it.

  The newspaper was dated from six months in the past.

  He set the paper back down on the couch, frowning. Why would the hospital have such an old newspaper lying around?

  Leaving the waiting room he passed the front desk; there was a calendar on the desk, listing the same date as the newspaper.

  He had jumped to the past, apparently.

  Matheson began to feel uneasy about this and wanted to leave; some instinct inside him kept him moving, and directed him to the elevators.

  Without thinking, he entered the elevator and pressed the button for the third floor.

  Arriving on the third floor, he emerged onto a corridor with a nurses station off to the right. Again, without thinking, he turned left and walked down the hall.

  After a few moments he stopped; he was standing in front of room 305. There was a nameplate next to the door that read MAJ J THOMAS.

  Matheson looked around; he was unobserved. He peered into the room.

  He could see his partner, Jeff Thomas, in the bed. And sitting next to the bed, his back to the door, was a man.

  Matheson knew who it was before the man spoke.

  The man was Charles Matheson. He and Thomas were speaking; the conversation was about some kind of crash resulting in Thomas becoming a prisoner of war...and of being injured in the crash, a spinal injury that resulted in paralysis.

  As he listened to this conversation, a nurse passed him by. As he did, the nurse gave Matheson a kind of double-take; Matheson understood this to mean that the nurse had probably seen him (the past version, anyway) enter the room and was wondering why he was now standing outside it.

  Matheson didn't want to deal with the nurse, or anyone else for that matter, and decided it would be a good time to get back to the present.

  Matheson quickly left the hospital, the implications of what he saw echoing through his thoughts.

  The odd comments Thomas had made to him made sense, now.

  Thomas had been injured in the past and had asked Matheson for help in changing the past; Matheson had refused. But Thomas was able to change it, after all.

  What did it all mean?

  Matheson wasn't sure. The big question for the moment was how he'd return to the present.

  Leaving the hospital, Matheson walked towards the nearby base hospital; there was a bus stop and bench near the entrance.

  He sat down on the bench and wondered about what he'd need to do to return to his present.

  All a matter of concentration. He thought of his barracks room and pictured his alarm clock, displaying the time and date.

  For the moment he was alone; when the portal opened he stepped through without looking.

  He emerged, but it wasn't in his room that he stepped into.

  In fact, from what he could tell, he wasn't even at the air base. For one, the temperature had dropped considerably; he could also see hills in the horizon, and all around him were large green trees.

  He was in a wooded area, apparently. It was very quiet, although every so often the silence was punctured with the squawk of a bird.

  Now what?

  Matheson knew he needed to get back to his room, but felt compelled to explore this area, at least for a few minutes.

  He had emerged onto a trail, and he started walking along it.

  After about ten minutes of walking, he could see ahead of him that the trail ended in what looke
d like a parking lot; there were a few cars parked in it, although he hadn't seen any other people.

  Arriving at the parking lot, the first car he saw caught his eye; or rather, it was the license plate that had caught his eye.

  The license had the usual combination of letters and numbers, but below this was a word that Matheson had not ever seen before:

  OREGON.

  Oregon? He wondered. What is Oregon?

  It sounded familiar to him, although he didn't understand why it would; obviously it was the name of a place.

  He then remembered high school history; “Oregon” had been a state in what used to be the United States of America, before World War II. It was now a part of the province of British Columbia.

  The license plate should have read “Beautiful British Columbia” as all license plates of the province read.

  He also noticed a man standing next to one of the cars; he held to his ear what Matheson recognized to be a cellular telephone. It was, however, one of the early models that seemed to resemble a shoe box with an antennae attached to it.

  Matheson wondered what year it was, and also what world this might be.

  The man on the cell phone glanced over at Matheson and gave him a strange look; Matheson took this as his cue to leave. He headed back into the wooded area.

  Once there, and certain he was alone, he began to concentrate on his barracks room, and his alarm clock displaying the current date.

  This time, when the portal opened, Matheson made sure it was going to where he was trying to go before stepping through; satisfied it was, he stepped through, and emerged into barracks room. Before doing anything else he verified he was not only in the right place, but in the right time.

  He was relieved to find he had indeed arrived at both the right place and time, verifying both by getting online and reading a few news reports.

  He was also relieved that Thomas wasn't there, although he'd be seeing him soon; they had a 12-hour shift coming up.

  Matheson pondered the implications of what he had seen; Thomas had been injured in the past, but had sent someone back in time to fix things. How many other times had he done this? Was there even any way of knowing? Clearly, whatever changes were being made, Matheson wasn't aware of them (at least not on a conscious level, he thought) but somehow Thomas was aware of them. Still, Thomas could have had someone make lots of changes to the past, and apparently no one would know this.