They Don’t Make the Future Like They Used To
Here is the opening chapter from a recently-completed novel, and exercise in Christian science fiction (!)
Jimmy shuffled half-heartedly over to the fence to retrieve the ball. He hated football. He wasn’t very good at it, and he dreaded being in situations where other kids could make fun of him.
“Hurry up!” one of his classmates shouted. Sounded like Alex. Alex was a bully. Jimmy walked to the fence and picked up the worn leather ball. He turned back toward the playground, where a dozen pairs of 4th grade eyes
watched him impatiently. Jimmy wondered whether he should throw the ball or kick it. He wasn’t good at either. He could run back with it, but that might be embarrassing, too.
“Come on! Kick it!”
That was definitely Alex. Jimmy swung his leg and booted the ball as hard as he could. It didn’t go straight, and it didn’t go far, veering off toward the basketball courts.
“Awesome kick, dude!” Alex barked, and several kids laughed, including Emily.
Jimmy was glad there were only a few minutes left in recess. He started to wander slowly back to the game, tennis shoes scuffing the short, ragged grass.
“James!”
Jimmy jumped, startled by the harsh, booming voice. He spun around. Standing on the other side of the fence was a monster. He was big, but bent over, with wild hair and a gruesome face and rags for clothes. He was glaring
at Jimmy with fierce red eyes. Jimmy didn’t move, stricken with sudden fear.
The monster edged up to the fence and curled one hand through the chain links. Jimmy saw that two fingers were missing from the hand. The monster spoke his name again.
“James. I thought it was you. Even as a child, the features are unmistakable.”
Jimmy couldn’t say anything, and he didn’t think of running.
The monster started to speak again, but began coughing. It was a horrible sound, labored and thick. He leaned his face against the fence. His eyes were choked with red, angry veins. He stopped coughing.
“You don’t know who I am, do you? Because you’ve never met me, James. You’ve yet to send me to my doom on a mission you knew would fail.”
He raised his other hand to the fence and gripped it tightly.
“How do I look, James? Not bad, I think, considering I spent twenty years IN THE WRONG DAMN CENTURY!” He roared the words, and Jimmy was petrified.
“You know, it took me all those years to find another loop. And in the meantime, what happened?”
Jimmy could see that the monster had no teeth. He was drooling out of the left corner of his mouth. Jimmy started to back away.
“OH NO YOU DON’T!” the monster bellowed, moving sideways toward the gate. “You can’t imagine what I’ve been through trying to get back here. And of course, irony of ironies, coming back I landed almost exactly where I wanted to be—only off by twenty years and a few hundred kilometers. Imagine that, James. When you sent me to Jerusalem you got it wrong by 100 years, and I landed in Persia. You did that on purpose, didn’t you little boy?”
He cleared his throat and it sounded like a chainsaw revving.
“Persia’s not very nice in the second century. And you know what, James? They don’t like foreigners. They destroyed my equipment. Took my gold. Tortured me for fun.”
He held up his mutilated hand.
“And all the while I kept thinking of how I could get back. And what I’d say to you when I finally found you.”
Jimmy was filled with dread. The man talked as if they knew each other, accusing Jimmy of things he couldn’t understand. Jimmy was afraid he would be attacked by this horrible, sick creature. He looked quickly behind him,
preparing a dash to safety. The man was only a few feet from the gate, but maybe he was too sick to run very fast. Then Jimmy saw Mrs. Larkin approaching, striding quickly across the grass. She was coming to save him, to protect him from this evil thing that was blaming Jimmy for doing something terrible.
“Well, I’ve finally found you, James. And I want you to see what you’ve done to me. I want the whole world to know, and Badri and the staff. But they’re all children now, too, aren’t they? No one’s even in college yet.” He laughed: an angry hiss.
“You there!” Mrs. Larkin was trotting up to them. Jimmy backed toward her.
“What are you doing here? What are you doing to this boy?”
The ragged man’s fierce eyes remained riveted on Jimmy.
“It’s not what I’m doing to him, ma’am. It’s what he did to me. James McPherson is an evil person. He sent me to oblivion. But I’m back, James. I made it back.”
Mrs. Larkin put her arm around Jimmy protectively.
“You leave here at once, or I’ll call the police!” she declared.
The man turned his grotesque head to look at her, the first time he’d taken his eyes from Jimmy’s face.
“Do what you like. Believe me, the police inIllinois don’t scare me.”
He started to move through the gate. Jimmy saw that he was limping. Mrs. Larkin retreated, drawing Jimmy closer to her with one hand and slipping the other into her purse. She withdrew a mobile phone. The man hobbled toward them. Jimmy was relieved to see that he could barely move. He couldn’t outrun them.
Mrs. Larkin punched three numbers and held the phone to her ear.
“Yes. I have an emergency. I’m at Crawford Elementary school. I’m a teacher. There is a man threatening children in the playground, along Addison Street. Send someone quickly, please.”
This seemed to enrage the ragged man. He shouted as he continued to hobble toward them.
“Am I threatening you, James? Did I ever threaten you? Is that why you sent me to the wrong century? My mission was to meet Jesus, and you sent me to hell! Well, I’m back from hell, James! And you…you’re a little boy. You don’t
even know what I’m talking about, because it hasn’t happened yet.”
Mrs. Larkin had been speaking quietly and quickly into the phone while the monster was raging. She snapped it
shut and grabbed Jimmy by the hand.
“Come on, Jimmy. Let’s go. Now.”
They backed away at first, then turned and ran toward the school, looking over their shoulders at the man. He didn’t follow.
“You can’t run away, James! Because I’m back! Back to tell the world what you did! Remember the name, James. Benton Scott! BENTON SCOTT! You can’t escape now!”
Jimmy was sprinting for the safety of his classroom. As he looked back one last time, he saw a police car pull up and stop onAddison Street.
** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** *** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **
“Welcome back, Mr. McPherson.”
The pretty security guard smiled at James as he breezed through the metal detector and reached for his security pass. He was oblivious to her presence.
James waved the pass over the monitor, then stood still while his eyes were scanned. The door slid open with a hiss. Inside, the Cassandra Project team was hard at work. James strode briskly into the room, well aware that all
eyes turned to follow him. Badri Singh approached, arm outstretched and smiling.
“Welcome back,” he said, as the men exchanged a perfunctory handshake.
“I trust everything went as planned?”
“Without a hitch.”
They walked together to the center of the large, austere room.
“So we’re free to proceed then?” Singh inquired quietly. James just nodded. Badri smiled broadly. “And now the fun begins.”
James nodded again, scanning the room. “Did you get my mathematician?”
“Sure did. You’re going to be quite pleased with him. I’ll introduce you.”
Singh led the way down a long hallway into the War Room, as they called it. A man was slouched in one of the plastic chairs, fingers at his temples, eyes closed.
Singh rapped lightly on the door.
The man looked up. He had very short hair but very long sideburns. One
small gold hoop hung from his right ear. Probably has other piercings, James mused, and a few tattoos to boot. Singh cleared his throat.
“James, I’d like to introduce you to Benton Scott.”
petermaize 