“So,” I began, “Let’s just all take a step back and breathe.” I took a deep breath, let it out, then glanced at Evonne and Psycho-chic, wondering why they weren’t following my lead.
After staring at them for too long, they both seemed to get the idea and took a deep breath themselves. “That’s better, right? We all feeling good now?”
Evonne shrugged while Psycho-chic glared at me. I’m getting really tired of saying Psycho-chic- jeez, there it is again. Here, let me clear that part up real quick.
“So what’s your name?” I asked Psy- uh, the woman.
“What’re you going to do, Jericho, Google me?”
I narrowed my eyes at the bound woman, who, on the closer inspection I made of her whilst either tackling her or tying her hands behind her back, wasn’t really a woman at all. Old enough to buy alcohol, I was thinking. But barely.
“Oh, I’m sorry. You somehow haven’t realized that you’re tied up and aren’t in control anymore.” Sarcasm. That’ll have the lady loving you, Mr. Johnson. Maybe if she hadn’t been snippy first things would’ve been a tad different in our little discussion. Evonne and I decided that her glove needed to come off ASAP so we removed it right after our tumble in the snow.
She didn’t produce a knife or gun or anything so I was hoping that maybe her precious glove was the only defense she had.
“So that’s a no on your name?”
“Chloe.”
I blinked at her and pursed my lips. “Are you serious right now?”
“What’s wrong with Chloe?” Chloe asked, perplexed and agitated at the same time.
“Oh, nothing’s wrong with it. I’m just finding it hard to believe that’s really your name, is all.” I laughed, “I mean, c’mon now. You’re like German, or something.”
Oh yeah. I guess I forgot to mention that she had an accent on her. Sorry. I must’ve not heard it over the sound of her trying to kill me.
“Russian, imbecile.” Chloe spat, sounding very Russian indeed. Well, she was understandable, anyway. I mean, her Russian wasn’t extremely thick, let’s say.
To be honest she had just enough of an accent to be hot.
But just don’t you forget that she was trying to kill me. Because I sure didn’t.
“Russian, German… pretty much the same thing,” I told her, mainly just to get under her skin. “Your nationality doesn’t really interest me right at this moment.”
Chloe glared at me. Get used to hearing that because she glared a lot. “It should, considering Russia created the glove you’ve been using for your little joyrides through time.”
Hmm. Wasn’t really expecting that. Granted, I knew that whoever had invented it couldn’t have been American. Not to sound unpatriotic or anything, but Americans really just let other countries create the awesome stuff and then pounce on the idea. I could already see off-brand time-traveling gloves at Wal-mart…
“Let me guess, it was your father who is dead now or something equally as lame and overdone,” I shot back.
Then three things happened.
First, the Russian girl by the name of Chloe began crying. The second thing was that I felt instantly like a cretin. The third was Evonne giving me a withering look, letting me know that if I didn‘t already feel like a cretin, which I did, then I should. What? How was I supposed to know…
Since the alleged Chloe was indeed trying to kill me, just putting a comforting arm around her shoulders wasn’t going to cut it in this case. So she cried while I stood with my hands on my hips examining the ceiling. This only lasted a minute or so, thank God, and after Chloe had finished she stood, trying to wipe her eyes with a shoulder with no success.
Then, you guessed it, she glared at me. “Aren’t you just smug, then?” She began, a smile coming to her lips. And not the good kind of smile, might I add. It was the kind that let you know whatever else the smiler had to say was something you probably didn’t want to hear.
Chloe took a step toward me and she was so menacing, I believe that was the word I used to describe her on our first meeting, I took a step back. Wait- didn’t that happen too?
“You just do whatever you want and never tell yourself no. Anyone that’s not you only comes into your mind when you have the inkling to show off. You are, without a doubt, one of the most self-centered, impulsive, unfeeling human beings I have ever encountered.”
I hate to say that everything she said was pretty much true. But at the time, I really didn’t feel like being lectured by some Russian chic.
“That’s just it, Chloe. You don’t know me. We’ve known each other for about…” I glanced at the time on my glove, “four hours now. And only had contact for, like, thirty minutes of that. So you can keep your life-lesson speeches for someone you’ve actually met before.” Evonne laid a hand on my shoulder.
“Master Johnson…”
Chloe’s smile vanished halfway through my rant but one side of her mouth twitched a little when I’d finished. She looked like whatever she was thinking about was either annoying, amusing, or both. “Actually we have met before.”
What?
That’s when I finally took note of Evonne’s hand. I glanced at him with a frown.
“The paper yesterday morning…” He said.
Then it all came back. I closed the small gap between Chloe and I and reached for her face, turning it sideways. “Mona?” I asked, then instantly felt stupid. But of course she was Mona. Funny how a teacher as awesome with details could miss one of his students when all she did was lose her glasses and dye her hair.
“Just so you know,” I muttered, taking a step back and pointing an accusing finger at the imposter. “If you don’t kill me before I make it back to Chicago, I am so failing you.”
“Oh, please don’t fail me, Mr. Johnson.” She gasped, wide-eyed, “I just don’t know what I’d do if my peers from the year 2340 found out I flunked 2012 history.”
I cut my eyes at Evonne, “You wouldn’t by any chance happen to have a gag of some kind on you, huh?”
The butler shook his head. “Not at the moment, Master Johnson.”
“Will you please stop with the ‘Master Johnson’,” Chloe decided to cut in, really making the whole no-gag situation that much more annoying.
“Listen, Mona,” I said, glaring at her. Great. Now she had me glaring. “If I paid you almost a million dollars a year to drive my limo and change my sheets, you’d call me master, too. So zip it.”
“I don’t know,” Chloe said with a cocked head, “I’d have to look at your sheets first.”
Yeah. That was enough.
“So what’s to keep me from convincing my extremely devout homies that you’re a traitor to their cause and require immediate termination?”
Chloe laughed at that, “What? You think you’re the only one with homies in different eras?”
“I’d like to think so.”
“You thinking is a recipe for disaster.”
“Your face is a recipe for disaster.”
“You didn’t think so at Denny’s.”
“I-”
Wow. Why am I even telling you this part? I mean, it really happened, but I just don’t like me not being in control. Whatever. Details. It’s all about the details. Remember that, whoever you are.
“I heard we made the front page,” Chloe said, smiling. “Did my hair look alright?”
“You mentioned something about the year Twenty-Three- what? Twenty-Thirty something?” I said, trying to change the subject.
“2340.”
“Yeah, that. Is that where you’re from?”
Chloe was smiling too much now. It would seem she was having way more fun than a lady tied up by two guys should. Just saying.
“And why would I want to cooperate with you again?” She asked.
I sighed. Man, but this chic was tiring. “Look, if you promise not to kill me, I’ll untie you. Partly because the ropes aren’t distressing you but mainly so you’ll answer a few questions.”
/> Chloe eyed me for a few seconds. Then said, “And if I choose to not answer your questions?”
I shrugged. “I’m feeling generous so I might not take your glove with me when I split if you just answer my freakin’ questions.”
That got her attention. Good. Finally…
“Ask your questions then, Jericho,” She said.
“Awesome. Evonne, the ropes?” Once her hands were freed she sat down cross-legged on the dirt floor and rubbed her wrists. I sat down opposite her the same way. Why, you might ask? Well, you might not. I hope you don’t because I truly don’t know why I did it, either.
“Start with whoever invented the gloves.”
Chloe started braiding her black hair. “That’s a statement.”
I just stared at her. “Are you really serious right now?”
She laughed. “No. You’re just funny when you get your feathers ruffled.” She was halfway done with her hair when she actually started, “My father, Dr. Atrium Sparks, was the one who discovered this… phenomenon. He spent a good part of his life searching for it and finally stumbled on it in 2335.”
“Don’t ask me what makes these things work.” She pointed to my glove for emphasis. “It's a long story and I don't want to go into it.”
“I know what the outside is made of,” I ventured, “Other than that you know way more than I do.”
“The glove you happened upon is the first of the only three in existence. A year after the glove’s creation, my father finally decided that it could never fall into the wrong hands and made it vanish.”
Chloe stopped her tale and looked at me. “Tell me truly- did you steal the glove from my father?”
The answer was no, I hadn’t mugged her daddy and lifted the Rolex of time off him. But I wasn’t sure that I wanted her to know that I was innocent just yet. “I guess that all depends what future Russians define theft as.”
Chloe looked at me blankly. Since she wasn’t glaring I was starting to feel our relationship was starting to smooth out some. I mean, aside from her trying to kill me, and all. “Alright,” I said to her. “You want the truth? Here it is.” I patted my glove. “I found this little jewel inside a container made from hard plastic and lead buried in Arizona.”
This was, as farfetched as it seemed, completely true. Chloe chewed on her lip in thought, looking ever the cutest while she did it. Geez. Assassin, Johnson. Crazy-pyscho-hitchic from the future, man.
“Near Flagstaff?” The Russian girl asked.
Now it was my turn to chew on my lip except instead my mouth dropped open like an idiot. “Ye-yeah.” I stammered falling even more into the pit of idiocy. “How’d you, uh, know?”
Chloe simply shrugged, “Not much left of your country where I come from. Or when I come from, I suppose.”
Apparently she was done until she saw my raised eyebrows. “Oh.” She said, “I guess this would be the best time to tell you that America as you know it will be abolished in 2076.”
Yeah. Now was probably the best time for that little piece of info.
“After the California incident in 2017 your government was in shambles. To be honest, the rest of the world was surprised that the US made it to 2076 to start with.”
I didn’t ask what the California incident was. Mainly because I’m pretty sure I knew what happened. What? It’s basically sitting on a sandbar that’s infested with pipes full of high explosive gasses, guys. C’mon, now, don’t tell me you didn’t see that coming…
“So what does that have to do with Flagstaff?” I inquired.
“After your government finally collapsed, mother Russia moved in. I’ll spare you all the details of the uprisings in 2200, World War four in 2278, and the civil war that is happening in my time right now. Suffice it to say that a planet can only burn so many times, Jericho. Flagstaff, Arizona is one of the few remaining cities left in what was once America.”
This was a lot to take in. Like, a severely large amount to take in.
“I’m surprised that you, with the gloves power, haven’t ventured into the future. Why is that?”
I just shrugged although it was true. From the moment I found my glove and started my expeditions in the past, I had made an unwritten, unannounced rule that traveling too far into the future was off limits. “Maybe I just wanted to leave the future to God,” I said, trying to sound sarcastic but not pulling it off.
“Or maybe you’re just afraid,” She said, completely seeing through my entire fabricated persona. The same one that I’d been cultivating for years. Stupid Russian chic… “You’re probably telling yourself that your travels are to prove history wrong. When in truth you’re really going because you know what’s coming. This is just a game to you and history itself is your walkthrough. The only thing you’ve ever feared is the unknown. Why else would you have started pushing yourself at such a young age to achieve knowledge? To you, knowing how to accomplish something is better than the accomplishment itself.
“You have to know what’s coming, don’t you?” Chloe had long since lost her college girl attitude and had once again became the murderous Russian chic. “Tell me, Jericho,” She said, leaning toward me.
“Did you see me coming?
Chapter 8