“So if I were to Snap backwards, and end up as Henry the eighth, then I was always him and was always going to be? Everything will happen exactly like the history books despite whether or not I’ve read them?” “The fact that you’ve read about him means that you will not be Henry the eighth, because if you knew your future then it would not happen. You cannot rewrite time, or follow a recipe to achieve a known future. I nodded. This concept felt so fake. We couldn’t really be discussing the possibility of time travel. But there I was, walking like an idiot to a mysterious machine that would apparently do just that. “I guess I don’t understand why it has to be random. Is that some kind of punishment?” Pierce lightly chuckled. “I’d like to see you try to put a clock on a machine that doesn’t understand time. You know the calendar means nothing, right? Time existed before we thought to track it. Believe me, I tried to make it work like that. This project was originally an attempt to…fix something… but time is a widely misunderstood concept. It’s not easy to manipulate, and impossible to precisely navigate. If I knew where time began and ended, I’m sure I could do it, but nobody will ever know. Just another wonderful secret to unlocking the universe, hidden out of reach. We walked in silence for a while. It was nice to hear crickets. I thought they’d freeze out by now. Maybe it will be summer wherever I end up. Or maybe I’ll die to nuclear radiation the moment I arrive. “I gotta ask…” “What am I running from?” I finished the thought for him. It wasn’t a subject I particularly liked to chit chat about, but considering this is the last person I’ll ever be able to tell, I was surprised to find myself jumping at the chance. “Well…yeah. You’re too young for this.” Pierce sniffed loudly. I wish he’d stop doing that. Maybe he’s got a Koral addiction. That endless feeling like your nose is always just about to melt off. I know what that’s like. “I uh…I’ve got a messy record.” I paused. He waited for me to continue. “I started stealing stuff when I was a kid. My uncle taught me to. I started shoplifting cigarettes for him when I was 8. By the time I was 14 he had me on a small crew. We robbed homes in the better-off neighborhoods, made some good pocket money. One week my uncle starts panicking and prepping us for a bank holdup. We’d never done that before, it was bound to go wrong.” I looked down at my left hand, at the stub where my ring finger used to be. “And it did. Cops showed up and we opened fire. Everyone got out but me. I was just 16. Did some time in juvie and went home thinking I’d never touch a gun again. And then one day, there was mom…..my uncle had came back, and he was lying on the floor dead and my mom….” I shuddered. The memory still made me want to vomit. Sometimes I do. “My mom was [i]dissecting[/i] him. She was looking for the TI and he was just….[i]pieces[/i]…” I expected some reaction out of Pierce. All he did was sniff. I tried to hide my shaky breathing as I continued. “I never loved my mom. She hit me a lot. We starved because she shot up too much. I loved my uncle. At least he looked out for me. She was kneeling next to him with a kitchen knife, all covered in blood and she said; [i]“He won’t come looking for you anymore.”[/i] I just ran and never went back. But I could never get that picture out of my head.” I breathed deeply. I could feel my heart staring to race. “Last Monday I killed her. She’s haunted me my whole life. I thought maybe I could get rid of that picture in my head, but it didn’t work. Now I’m here, with you. There’s no way I’m getting out of this one alive. Maybe I’m…okay with that. The way I see it, this could be a second chance or a quicker sentence.” “You really didn’t try to get away with it huh.” said Pierce quietly “No. I guess I panicked. I left everything.” Pierce didn’t speak for the remainder of the march. Maybe he was disappointed in my answer. If I was in the business of helping desperate criminals escape their sentence by means of time travel, I wouldn’t judge the wretched lowlifes that come knocking with twenty grand. I’m willing to bet he’s heard worse. We arrived at a small grey shed. It was decently hidden by a few trees and a large pile of tires, but to me it looked inconspicuous enough to stand alone. The wooden walls were ancient and harshly tinged with green and black growth. If it hadn’t been for that shiny row of keyholes on the door, anyone might’ve assumed it was abandoned. Pierce produced his ring of keys. I gazed up at the rustling trees above me as I listened to Pierce fumble with the keys and individually click them into place. The night was peaceful, but the knot in my stomach turned the atmosphere dark and foreboding. The moon was a watchful eye, the branches were vengeful hands. I shook my head to rid the thought. This wasn’t guilt, she was the guilty one. Still, the memory burned. I haven’t been a good person. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done out of selfishness. I never even tried to make an honest living, all I knew to do was get high and curse the past for making me the way I am. I suppose a fate like this was inevitable. Still, if I’m to die, I’d rather get it over with. Pierce had finally pulled open the door. The interior was pitch black. I caught a glimpse of some copper wires and silver plates lining the walls and floor. Pierce extended his hand. “This is it.” I took it. He squeezed tight. “I’m sorry kid. I really hope you make it.” I couldn’t answer. I’d probably start crying. I nodded and stepped inside. My boots scraped on the metal floors. Pierce gave me a curt nod before shutting the door slowly. I think I caught a tear in his eye. A sudden rush of anxiety punched me in the chest. My senses burst open like tornado shutters. I breathed heavily. Small beams of moonlight fought their way through the gaps in the doors. My heart pounded louder than a drum. I could feel every piece of this world I knew all at once, and yet I was completely numb. Trees, dirt, wind, stitches, squeaking, anger, pity, sniffing, moonlight, bruise, knots, crickets, keys, clocks, boots, tears, darkness. I opened my eyes. I hadn’t closed them. The racing in my chest slowed to a steady beat. Bright sunlight pierced my eyes from above. I was outside. The earth was recognizable. The trees were full of life and color. Choruses of birds rang out over the forest. Lush green speckled with pinks and purples covered the branches and ground. A light breeze lifted the hair from my scalp and washed away the wrinkle in my brow. I was alright. All trace of the shed had disappeared, the tires too. I could see the road from where I stood, or at least what remained of it. It was now nothing more than two indented stripes of grass. The forgotten road had been swallowed from years without visitors. This was the future. The sun coaxed me to remove my jacket. How heavenly it felt on my anxious skin. I lingered for a moment, drinking in my familiar surroundings, all so welcoming in the light. I surveyed the mountains I had failed to notice before. Little houses with snow white roofs dotted the rolling hills. Maybe that’s a new fashion. Good to know people are still around. Seeing that nobody has visited Pierce’s farm in the last several years, I turned away from the path I’d walked not moments before, toward the continuing “road” that I assumed lead back to the outside world. I felt a tingling in my back as I walked. Fear? Anticipation? Relief? It was difficult to tell. Everything was different. Maybe I’ll find something better this time, maybe I’ll still end up dead. But right now all I know is this moment of peace, and that’s all I care to think about. Pierce was right, the walk is important.