Every movement has a consequence...every word, every meeting...
~~~
Bella Bruster laid the flowered bouquet on her father’s grave. It had been six years since his premature death. Her eyes brimmed with tears. At the age of seventy, he succumbed to a massive heart attack. Unthinkable for a man who was robust, insisted on a well-balanced diet, and was free from any prescribed medications.
In fact, Bella could not remember her father even having a cold. But the coroner ruled that Jed Bruster died from a fatal heart attack.
And now, Bella was left with only fond memories of her father and none of a mother who died in childbirth.
As she dabbed at her wet eyes, the cell phone in her pocket chimed. Instantly, she answered. She noticed a man across the way visiting a grave.
“Hello?”
“Is this Bella Bruster?” asked the deep male voice. The middle-aged woman glanced at the unrecognized number. When she glanced back at the strange man, he was gone.
“Yes…and this is?” She waited for a response.
“My name is Sam Brickman. I am the proprietor of Public Storage.” She could hear the rustling of papers.
“How can I help you, Mr. Brickman?” Bella started walking to her old Chevy.
“You are listed as a contact on a storage unit rental by Mr. Jed Bruster. Mr. Bruster prepaid for the unit for a total of eight years. I have tried to make several attempts to contact Mr. Bruster to inform him that the unit rental prepayment will be concluded by the end of the month,” stated Brickman.
“My father…passed away six years ago, Mr. Brickman,” she replied in a shaky voice. The rustling of papers immediately stopped.
“I am truly sorry for your loss, Ms. Bruster. Again, since you are listed on the rental agreement, the unit is yours until the end of the month. If you decide not to remove the contents of the unit and no payment is made, the unit and all its contents will be auctioned off to the highest bidder.” The older man cleared his throat.
“I understand, Mr. Brickman. I will empty the unit before the end of the month. But I don’t have the key. My father’s estate was handled years ago. If there was a key, it has been lost in the shuffle.” Once again, Bella’s eyes moistened.
“Understandably…you can cut the lock off the door of the unit with a chain cutter. Or, if you’re skilled at picking locks, that’s an option too. Regardless, it’s yours to do as you wish, Ms. Bruster. And again, I am sorry for your loss. If you have any other questions, I’ll be happy to assist you.” And with that said, the owner disconnected the call.
***
Bella’s occupation as a private investigator paid the bills. Her father neither encouraged nor discouraged her career choice. Many of the cases dealt with cheating spouses, wills and estates, and even missing persons. With a background in law enforcement and living in Phoenix, this bustling city attracted its own clientele.
Public Storage was in Cave Creek, forty minutes outside of Phoenix. The small western town held the lowest crime rate across the state of Arizona. She could understand why her father had chosen the location.
After checking in at the office, Bella was given directions to her father’s storage unit. Several minutes later, she found it. The master padlock took only three minutes to open. Her lock picks proved to be quite useful.
“Okay, Dad. What was so special about this stuff that you felt the need to hide it?” she murmured to herself.
The heavy aluminum door creaked and moaned. Immediately, dust and debris escaped, gagging her to the point of struggling to breathe.
Bella stepped back to catch her breath. The cool, crisp morning air cleared her lungs. She hesitated a moment before entering the stifled unit.
A switch on the wall illuminated the entire storage area. Several metal file cabinets lined the concrete walls of the ten-by-twelve room. Cardboard boxes were stacked neatly to the side. Pieces of odd furniture also cluttered the room. In the middle of the unit sat a dusty mahogany office desk with a leather-worn chair. Besides layers of dust, the desktop was clear.
“What the…?” she said aloud to no one. She looked about. This room could have been used as an office. Is this where her father disappeared on so many nights, often leaving her alone, thinking she was fast asleep?
Bella gently pulled out the tattered chair and sat down. Her eyes were drawn to the top drawer. She tried to pull it out. Locked. Using her tools, it opened with ease. Inside were two folders.
With a trembling hand, she placed the first one on top of the dusty desk. Inside there were yellowed newspaper clippings from the Chicago Evening Post and Chicago Tribune. Both were dated back to 1894 announcing the arrest and conviction of America’s first serial killer, H.H. Holmes.
Bella’s mind flooded with jumbling thoughts. Why would her father be so interested in H.H. Holmes?
She looked again at the brittle clippings. Could these be the actual newspaper articles from 1894?
Bella carefully laid them to the side. She noticed several sheets of notes written in her father’s handwriting.
“First initial trip with arrival date of August 10, 1883. The Holmes Hotel (a.k.a. Murder Castle) was completed, including the third floor, located on the corner of W. 63rd Street in Chicago, IL. Rented a room to observe H. H. Holmes (born Herman Webster Mudget – May 16, 1861, in Gilmanton, NH) and the guests at present.
Investigation into the allegations of torture chambers, trapdoors, and gas chambers resulted in the examination of many rooms of a suspicious nature. Noted peculiar oddities within the construction of the brick building. As for the basement, a blast furnace constructed using thick cement walls could be used as a crematorium.
After speaking to staff and guests, disappearances were noticed. The hotel register noted discrepancies. Law enforcements were not contacted due to the 1883 World’s Columbian Exposition.
Still researching the official list of missing and/or murders. Difficulties due to time and place. Investigation into the victims pending.
Second trip with arrival date of May 7, 1896. Present for the execution of H.H. Holmes. Method of execution: Hanging. Rope was inefficient to break the neck. Fifteen minutes until death. Able to positively confirm H.H. Holmes’ demise and his unusual burial request. Cement encasement of pine casket. Official report – February 15, 2019: Jed Bruster – Lead Traveler.”
Bella slowly closed the file folder. She blinked several times. Her heart raced inside her chest and pounded in her ears. Sweat lined her brow. Suddenly, the stale air constricted her lungs. She needed to leave. And she needed to stay. Then, with an uneasy pause, she proceeded to open the second file. Inside was a faded photograph of her father, dressed in 1912 garb, standing next to the infamous Captain Smith. She read her father’s notes.
Arrived April 10, 1912 – RMS Titanic. Spoke with Captain Edward J. Smith, posing as an American journalist. The captain was eager to promote Titanic’s maiden voyage. He was confident of an uneventful journey from Southampton, England, to New York City. Anticipated and expected to run all engines to show how powerful and dependable the Titanic, nicknamed ‘unsinkable,’ would be. I brought attention to the danger of icebergs. Captain Smith was neither concerned nor worried about the extreme risk.
I was given an extensive tour of the entire ship. Quite impressive. The history books do this unbelievable luxury liner no justice. After viewing almost the entire ship, I was able to persuade First Officer William McMaster Murdoch to visit the engine room. Two massive steam engines and a propeller powered by coal-fired boilers. Coal was used to supply and operate the engines. The storage of coal was housed in large bunkers. Burning coal embers in Bunker 6 did not alarm the crew or First Officer Murdoch. I questioned the safety of the unattended fire and was told it was quite normal.
After departing the RMS Titanic, I determined that the darkened portion of the Titanic’s hull matched the exact location of Bunker 6, where the fire continuously burned. With the extreme heat, there is no doubt that it played a significant role in the sinking of the Titanic. Official report – April 12, 2019: Jed Bruster, Lead Traveler.”
Bella leaned back into her father’s chair. Her head spun from the information contained in the files. Both files were dated a good six months before he passed away. She wasn’t sure what to do or think.
Suddenly, without warning, the lights went out.
Instinctively, she crouched to the ground and listened. It was then she heard the heavy door slide down into place. Her breathing elevated. With no other way out, she was trapped.
Not willing to divulge her presence so easily, she calmed herself and waited. A scuffle of shoes grew close. Without making a sound, Bella inched sideways in the opposite direction.
“Bella Bruster?” came a loud male voice. “I am Hal Ebert, CIA Director of Science and Technology. I was a close friend of your father. We worked together on the Montauk Project—unofficial time travel experiment.” The mysterious man cleared his throat.
“I know this must sound farfetched but believe me when I say the CIA has excelled in the use of quantum physics. I won’t bore you with specifics. The ending result is…well, Bella, time travel exists. And it has been used for the past twenty years.”
Suddenly, the lights came back on. Bella knew there was nowhere to hide or run. She faced her adversary.
“You expect me to believe that my father was part of a time travel experiment?”
The strange man smiled. For a brief second, he looked familiar. “Your father was the time travel experiment. He volunteered to be the first. In fact, he became exceptionally good at it. He had a knack for blending in. Jed Bruster was one of the best, and maybe even the best, scientific engineers the CIA employed. His contributions in perfecting time travel proved to be…a well-guarded top secret.”
Bella’s brows scrunched together. “Wait…my father was a scientific engineer? Impossible. My father worked at a parts manufacturing company for military planes. Are you telling me he lied to me and others all these years?”
“Of course, it was his cover. He could not even tell you the truth. It bothered him not being able to share this with you.” The tall, lanky man stuck his hands inside his dress pants pockets. His slender face and trimmed salt and pepper hair made him quite handsome. It was then she realized where she had seen this man before.
“You…you were at the cemetery?” she asked in a whisper. A sad smile inched across his wrinkled face.
“Yes. My late wife is buried at Holy Cross. Leslie was an astrophysicist who collaborated with your father on the Montauk Project.” Hal Ebert lowered his head.
“How long ago did your wife die?” asked Bella. She wasn’t sure what to believe or what not to believe. Time travel?
“Leslie passed a year before Jed. She, too, had a massive heart attack. The time travel project was Leslie’s baby.” The man shrugged his shoulders. “And I know you’re an only child. Your mother died after you were born. No living relatives on either side.”
Bella swallowed. Her eyes filled with tears. Her throat was dry from the stale air. How could her father have lied to her even as an adult? She never really knew her father at all.
“If…if all of this is highly confidential, why tell me?” asked Bella.
Hal walked closer to the desk. He noticed the two files were open. “Because…of this,” he replied, pointing.
“Any normal person would say my dad was a nut case. Or infatuated with…with time travel. Easily explained away.” Bella took a step back. “But it seems you want me to believe my father was some kind of time traveler?”
“I know you’re a private investigator…one of the best.” Hal ignored her question and tapped his finger on the open file.
“I am authorized to offer you a job, Ms. Bruster. A chance of a lifetime. To be a part of something so extraordinary, most people only read about in sci-fi books,” said Hal.
Bella looked down. He knew she didn’t believe or trust him. He had to convince Bella Bruster to join the team.
“I’m not a scientist or a time traveler. If I even believe in such a thing,” stated Bella.
“You’re an investigator of truth.” Hal waited for Bella’s response.
So many thoughts hurried through her mind. Could all this be true? “Why now?” pushed Bella.
Hal tilted his head. “We had to make sure you perfected your investigating skills,” he said.
“Investigating skills? Let me think about it…and I’ll get back to you, Mr. Ebert.” Bella started to inch backward toward the closed door.
“Alright, Ms. Bruster. But I’ll need an answer in two days’ time.” Hal pulled a business card out of his coat pocket. He held it out to Bella.
Bella snatched it from the mysterious man’s hand. “I’d like to leave now, Mr. Ebert.” The lanky man gave a slight bow.
“Just lift the door, Ms. Bruster, and you’re free to leave. Again, two days.” Bella reached the storage unit door and lifted it with ease. The sun had set, and the frigid night air made her shiver. She hurriedly started the truck and stared at the open unit. It was then that the light went out inside, and the door shut with Hal Ebert inside.
***
Bella tossed and turned all night. She kept seeing images of her father waving from the Titanic as she stood on the dock below. It was four o’clock in the morning when Bella could stand it no more. She threw back the covers and went straight for the bathroom. After showering, Bella got dressed and decided to head back to the storage unit for one last look around.
The highway out of Phoenix was littered with vehicles. As she travelled further and further from the big city, it occurred to her that Hal Ebert could still be at the unit. But that did not deter Bella.
After entering the code given by the Public Storage office, the barricade opened with ease. Once again, she stood outside the unit. A new lock had been put in place. Great.
Bella jumbled with the padlock. Several minutes passed before it finally released, giving her access inside.
She flipped the light switch. Her eyes opened wide. The entire unit was vacant. Only dust remained. Her father’s desk, the furniture, boxes, and metal cabinets—gone.
“I can’t believe it! Ebert cleaned it out!” exclaimed Bella. Heat rose to her face. She pulled out her cell phone and called the number on the card that Ebert had given her. She swore under her breath.
“You have an answer for me, Ms. Bruster?” asked Hal.
“What happened to my father’s things, Ebert? You had no right to take them,” demanded Bella.
“Ms. Bruster, we had every right. Your father had sensitive information that should never have left the research facility. We were only reclaiming what belonged to the Montauk Project.”
“Why did you wait six years to do it?” Silence filled the line. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, Ebert. But if you think I am naive enough to believe that hogwash you were feeding me, you thought wrong!” she shouted, then disconnected the call.
***
The remainder of the week flew by as she finished an easy case. Another case solved.
After downloading the information onto a USB drive, she placed it in a brown envelope and then locked it in her desk. Her eyes burned, and she felt tired.
The cell phone on the desk chimed. RESTRICTED. She hesitated before answering. “Bruster.”
“Ms. Bruster, have you made a decision?” asked Hal Ebert. Bella let out a huge sigh. She couldn’t believe this guy insisted on pursuing this unbelievable tale.
“I thought I got rid of you,” replied Bella. “I’m not interested in your sci-fi visions!”
“I have approval to allow you to visit the research facility that houses the Montauk Project. If, after your visit, you are still adamant about not joining the team, you will never be approached again,” insisted Hal.
“Alright. I will have a look at your secret facility. Where is this place?” She leaned back in her chair.
“I will have a car pick you up. Please, Ms. Bruster, no weapons of any kind can be transported into the facility.”
Bella smiled. “Weapons? Why would I have a weapon?” She slid her top side drawer open and lightly touched the Glock.
“An experienced private investigator would be a fool without one. The car will be there to pick you up at 9 a.m. tomorrow morning. See you then, Ms. Bruster.” And before Bella could respond, the call ended.
***
The tinted-window sedan pulled up in front of her office at exactly nine o’clock sharp. Bella slipped on her short leather jacket and headed to the curb. She tried the passenger door, but it remained locked.
“Open up!” she shouted. She heard a click and realized it was the release for the back door. Bella exhaled and skirted into the back seat. The vehicle moved quickly.
It was then she noticed a partition separating the front seat from the back seat. She tapped lightly on the glass. The person driving the sedan eased it onto the freeway. Once again, she gave a few swift taps to no response.
Suddenly, Bella heard a strange hissing sound. Immediately, her eyes burned, and she felt lightheaded. Desperately, she raised her hand to pound on the partition. But it was too late. Her heavy-laden body slumped to the side as she slipped into unconsciousness.
***
“Ms. Bruster…Ms. Bruster…open your eyes,” came a muffled voice. Bella shivered from the cold. “Ms. Bruster…it’s Hal Ebert. Wake up.”
Bella’s head throbbed. She finally opened her gritty eyes, blinking for them to adjust to the bright lights.
“Ms. Bruster…welcome to Camp Cheerful,” announced the male voice. Bella tried to sit up. The tiny room was freezing.
“My head…my head feels like someone hit me with a baseball bat,” moaned Bella. Hal Ebert’s face came into focus.
“I am truly sorry about that…its lingering effects should dissipate quickly. We had to knock you out. Camp Cheerful is not on the map. And we have to keep it that way,” explained Hal.
Hal handed Bella a bottle of water. She gulped it down her dry, itchy throat. By now, she was almost herself.
“Camp Cheerful? I’m assuming this is a military base out in the desert.” She finished off the remaining water.
“I will not agree or disagree with your assumption, Ms. Bruster. Please follow me. I would like to introduce you to those working on the Montauk Project.” Bella got on her feet and followed Hal down a narrow hallway, which opened into an area the size of a football field. Several people were busy working with technology that Bella did not recognize and was certain did not exist—except here.
Hal stopped, and Bella took in the magnitude of the Montauk Project. It could be overwhelming, to say the least.
“Well, what do you think?” asked Hal. Bella could not believe it. Time travel is possible. And the government had snagged the patent on it.
“Now that I have your attention, I’ll introduce you to Dr. Allen Baker, lead analyst of the Montauk Project.” Hal waved at a fortyish man in a white lab coat. He gave a slight nod. After speaking with a fellow colleague, Allen quickly stepped to meet Hal.
“Hal,” the two men shook hands.
“Allen, I would like you to meet Bella Bruster. She will be joining the team.” Allen smiled and extended his hand.
“I haven’t decided yet,” said Bella while reciprocating the gesture.
Dr. Allen Baker was quite attractive. His face lacked the wrinkles of a middle-aged man. Of course, it was only a guess, but she thought they were about the same age. The doctor had a bright smile and deep blue eyes.
“Ms. Bruster, welcome. We are always looking for new perspectives on our time travel project.” Bella’s hand lingered. His skin was silky smooth.
“Thank you, Dr. Baker. Again, I haven’t agreed, yet, to…to all of this!” She released his hand.
Dr. Baker’s eyes narrowed. He looked at Hal.
“Just a matter of time…I thought once Ms. Bruster got her feet wet…well, she couldn’t resist. I’m leaving her in capable hands. If you both will excuse me, I have work to do.” Hal gave a slight bow and left the two alone.
Bella tried desperately to absorb the magnitude of what she was witnessing as Dr. Baker explained and demonstrated the fundamentals of the Montauk Project—time travel. He emphasized the importance of their “intrusion” into the past as historians. Trying to collect the actual truth in many historical benchmarks that could be debated or debunked. Giving history its proper place in time.
“The traveler’s job is observation and noting the facts of what happened at a specific period in time,” commented Bella.
“Yes. As a traveler, you need to blend in. Not arouse suspicion. And you do not want to change history. You want to find out the facts or close to them without disrupting the flow of time.” Dr. Baker slowed his walk.
Bella nodded her head. “What would happen if you accidentally changed time?”
Dr. Baker’s face grew dark. “The butterfly effect.” Bella had read about it but never gave it any thought until now.
“I’ve heard of it,” replied Bella. “But if you would like to refresh my memory, please do, Dr. Baker.”
The scientist hesitated for a moment, then continued. “The butterfly effect happens when insignificant changes occur within initial conditions, which result in dramatically different outcomes. Trivial events, hence, the flap of a butterfly’s wings, can set off a chain reaction that causes significant and sometimes irreversible consequences later. That is why there are strict guidelines in place that travelers must adhere to when traveling back in time. I cannot stress the importance of this. It is a constant dilemma for our travelers. Often, moral and ethical considerations cloud a traveler’s decision. One must remember, all the people the traveler interacts with are in the past.”
Bella could understand how things could go awry. “Dr. Baker, did you know my father, Jed Bruster? He was a lead traveler.”
Dr. Baker tilted his head. “Yes, I did. He was involved with the Montauk Project from its inception. He was a brilliant man. I am sorry for your loss, Ms. Bruster.”
Her eyes teared up immediately. “I still can’t believe he was…was a time traveler. All those years, he led people to believe he worked at a manufacturing plant. It must have been hard for my father to keep such a secret.” She quickly wiped her eyes.
Dr. Baker’s arms hung by his side. “It could be quite a burden. But Jed was one of the best. He knew how to extract valuable information without arousing undue suspicion of his goal. We miss him dearly.” Bella bit her lower lip.
“I would like to show you how the Montauk Project works…if you are up to it,” said Dr. Baker. “I am sure you’re curious to see how the travelers move about through time.”
“Dr. Baker…why is it called the Montauk Project?” asked Bella.
“Alfred Montauk discovered the Earth’s magnetic field, which is the foundation for time travel. Many claim Montauk stole the idea from Nicola Tesla.” He gave a slight chuckle.
Bella took a deep breath. She wished her father had confided in her about his involvement with the Montauk Project. It would have made so many things in her life easier. And now she was asked to continue with her father’s legacy.
“I’m beyond curious, Dr. Baker.” She forced a smile.
“Ready when you are, Ms. Bruster.”
***
Training in her father’s footsteps was quite difficult. Bella considered herself an intellectual. She soon came to learn that “intellect” was just a small part of a much larger picture. There was so much to absorb in such a brief period.
Bella’s first official assignment would come only six months after her introduction to the Montauk Project, while she kept up with her PI persona.
Allen and Bella sat by the briefing table. After spending so much time together, the two were on a first-name basis. The doctor reviewed the assignment once again with Bella. Her stomach twisted in knots.
“The first assignment is a simple one. It is to introduce you to the physicality of time travel. You must always keep the Montauk device on you. I cannot stress this enough. Never go anywhere without it. Do not let anyone see it. It is your only connection to getting back to the present. It’s as easy as sending a text. All Montauk devices are programmed to bring you back. Just text the word “home.” You will have ten seconds to step through a doorway. The doorway disrupts the Earth’s energetic flow long enough for your body to sync with the device. It then converts you into a molecular stream which moves faster than the speed of light along the Earth’s gravitational field. Then reconstructed at the preset destination,” explained Allen. “Of course, this is the simple version.”
Bella took a deep breath. She was excited yet fearful. The strange device fit in her hand. A small version of a cell phone.
“You will only be there one day—Saturday, March 25, 1911. You will arrive approximately two hours before the event. If you must interact with anyone, remember that you are a bookkeeper from Chicago visiting a sick aunt on the East Side of the city. The fire occurred at approximately 4:40 p.m., as the workday was ending. You will make your way to the northwest corner of Greene Street and Washington Place. You will observe only,” stressed the doctor. Bella gave a slight nod.
Allen cleared his throat. “Bella, what you will witness is well…horrific. You must not interfere or try to help in any way. One hundred and forty-six people died in the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire. Most of them are women and young girls.”
Bella had studied the file on the deadliest industrial disaster in New York City's history. And now she would be there, in person, to witness the devastating catastrophe.
“Since this is just a trial run, let’s have you back within two hours after the start of the fire. There will be chaos, so you might have to find a safe place to engage the Montauk device. Any questions?” Allen shoved his hands inside his lab coat pockets. Bella rubbed the back of her neck.
“What if something goes wrong?” she asked in a soft voice. Allen stood close.
“Bella…you know what to do…you have been training for the last six months. Just find a doorway and enter the word ‘home.’ You’ll be fine.” His warm smile eased her apprehension building inside.
The changing room contained clothes from different historical periods. Bella adjusted the small flat hat on the mound of brown hair. Her reflection mirrored a smartly dressed woman from 1911. The dainty high collared white blouse was tucked neatly in the trim tailored blue toned long skirt. The low heel black oxford shoes laced up the front of her shins. Hopefully, they would stretch once she moved about.
The beaded chatelaine hooked to the leather belt about her waist. It contained a handkerchief, pencil, blank paper and currency. Women in 1911 were not allowed to carry identification tags. They had no voting rights and could not hold any type of political office. She had to remember her place in society.
Bella ran her hand over the sown inner pocket which held the Montauk device close and safe. It was her only means to return home.
Even though nothing was expected of her first official travel jump, Bella still felt the intense need to prove herself. To follow in her father’s footsteps, failing was not an option.
***
Dr. Baker and Hal Ebert were deep in conversation when Bella made her entrance. Both men immediately stopped talking. Their attention was drawn instantly to Bella.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d swear this lovely woman just strolled in from the year 1911,” commented Allen. Her face flushed.
Hal gave a half smile and a slight nod. “Impressive…very impressive.”
Bella exhaled. If it all went as planned, she would be back by evening. “I am ready.” She forced a half grin.
Dr. Baker walked Bella to the magnetic stripped doorway built specifically for time travel. She pulled out the travel device and entered the information—2:00 o’clock p.m. Trinity Church Cemetery New York City Saturday, March 25, 1911. When she finished, she gave Dr. Baker the thumbs up.
“Good luck, Bella. We’ll see you when you get back,” said the doctor.
Allen pointed to the archway. Bella gave a slight nod then stepped forward. Her hand shaking as she hit send. With one swift movement she transported into a world right out of the history books.
***
A slight burning sensation seared through Bella’s hand holding the device. Within seconds it raged throughout her body before her mind went blank. Seconds later she gasped for air. Her chest felt constricted. The feeling of nausea came and went. Her blurry eyes adjusted to the afternoon sun. It took a second before she noticed the whitewashed headstones. Birds chirped noisily in the warm spring breeze.
Bella steadied herself then glanced around the cemetery. Did she really travel through time to 1911? The sounds of civilization were distant. Her body still tingled from the deceleration. Even with Allen trying to explain the transformation within the earth’s electromagnetic field, she could not comprehend nor understand how time travel worked. And maybe she should keep that way.
“Hello…miss?” called a voice from afar. The old man waddled toward Bella. His ragged dirty clothes hung from his thin body. “Are you alright?”
Bella’s eyes blinked. She tried to focus. “Yes…yes…I’m fine.” As she took a step forward, she lost her balance. The elderly gent was quick and rendered her aid.
“There, there miss,” he said trying to steady her. His hands felt calloused against her soft skin. She could see his face clearly now. Scruffy and unshaven, drawn and tired. His eyes faded blue. The pair of worn trousers, held up by suspenders, and the white tattered shirt, gave her the impression this man was a hard laborer. The chestnut cloth hat sat crooked on his white wispy hair.
“Maybe you need to see a doctor, miss,” he said. Bella’s equilibrium slowly returned to normal.
“I’ll…be fine,” she replied. “Can you tell me, kind sir, the date?” The old man released his grip.
“Date, miss?” He lifted his flat cap and scratched his thin layer of gray hair.
“Yes…the date…day, month and…year?” asked Bella forcing a smile.
“Did you hit your head, miss? It’s Saturday, March 25, 1911. And this here is the grand ole’ city of fine New York. One of the busiest cities in all these wonderful United States.” It was then she noticed several of his teeth were missing.
“Of course, how silly of me,” she replied.
“I can still go fetch a doctor for you, miss.” The kind man stepped back. “I’m all done here. I just dug my last grave for the day.” He gestured toward a gaping hole in the ground.
“No, no I insist I am quite well. But I appreciate your help.” Bella turned to leave the man and hesitated. “Which way to the Vintage Café?”
The grave digger pointed. “Straight up Third Street, miss. Good day to you.” He gave a slight bow and tipped his hat.
Bella waved then strolled out of the cemetery onto the busy sidewalks of New York City in search of the café.
It was quite the sight. Amazed by the many people strolling down 3rd Street going about their business. Roofless buggies maneuvering their way amongst horse drawn wagons and trolley cars. After several minutes of walking, Bella arrived outside the Vintage Café. Sitting on the sidewalk were bistro styled tables and chairs. A quaint single story brick building was filled with passersby. Men and women alike.
Bella stood staring at the people inside talking and laughing. None of them had the faintest idea what horrific accident was about to transpire.
“Afternoon, miss. Will you be sitting at a table outside?” A young man with slick back hair gave a slight bow. His short dark vest and tiny black tie fit snug. A long white apron tied around his slim waist.
“Yes, thank you very much,” replied Bella. The male waiter pulled out the heavy metal chair. She sat eagerly down.
“Would you like a menu?” asked the man.
“No thank you. But I would like a cup of tea and sugar if I might.” Bella immediately pulled out a few coins.
“Very well, miss.” And before she could say another word, he dashed back inside the café. The breeze was warm for a spring day. It was still hard to comprehend she traveled through time and the year was 1911.
The waiter came back and placed a hot cup of tea and a sugar bowl on top the table. He gave a slight bow.
“Cup of tea and sugar, miss. Will there be anything else?” he asked with a half-smile.
“This is fine…thank you!” She held out two quarters. The waiter snapped his head back.
“The cup of tea is ten cents, miss.” Bella looked at the coins in her hand.
“Of course, the rest is for you. Please take it…I insist.” She smiled at the waiter. His eyes were still locked on the coins in her hand.
“Thank you, miss. If there’s anything else you need, I’d be happy to get it for you.” He carefully took the coins and placed them inside his pocket.
As he turned to leave, Bella called out to him. “Waiter…which way is the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory?”
The young man pointed. “Take 3rd Street three blocks. Make a left and you’ll be on Greene Street. Half a block Washington Street crosses. The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory is located on the corner inside the Asch Building.” Once again, he gave a slight bow and hurried over to another table with two smartly dressed men.
Bella sipped the hot tea. It felt good on her dry throat. The café’s tea was rich in flavor. She would have liked to take back a packet or two when returning to the present time, but she knew it would be impossible.
Mesmerized by the people and the city itself, Bella almost forgot about her assignment. After drinking the entire cup, she got up to leave. The gray street clock read 3:45 p.m. She had an hour to make it to the shirtwaist factory.
Bella strolled down 3rd Street absorbing the ambiance of the year 1911. Carriages and horses, people shopping at the leather store and trunks and bag shops. Bankers Trust Pyramid, consisting of large brick blocks, rose up into the cloudless sky. Trinity Church, a single-story rectangular structure, and large bronze doors was surrounded by white headstones scattered within the enormous surrounding graveyard.
As Bella continued toward her destination, her eyes sparkled. It was still hard to comprehend the magnitude that she had indeed traveled back through time.
Approaching the corner, she turned onto Greene Street as instructed by the waiter at the café. Suddenly, the ground trembled beneath her. Startled, Bella looked around for cover. She then realized the source of the movement was from the elevated railroad above.
Passing directly underneath it, along with other commuters, the sound resonated inside her ears, making it impossible to hear anything else.
Bella crossed over to Washington Street and found the historic Asch Building. It rose to a height of only 135 feet, where the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory housed the 8th, 9th, and 10th floors. She knew the building was designed in its entirety with an iron-steel framework, the latest in fireproof design. But this would have little bearing on the 146 souls lost in the horrific fire.
As she watched people enter the doomed building, her stomach flipped and flopped. How she wished she could warn them before the disaster struck. But changing history was not an option.
Why did Hal insist on this specific tragedy? Was it to assess her abilities as a time traveler? Or was it to see if she could control her instincts to aid?
But before she could even contemplate Hal’s reasoning behind the assignment, a flash of light resonated above. And then came the earth-shaking blast. Flames burst through the windows, spewing shards of glass that covered everyone and everything below.
People ran for cover, almost knocking down Bella. Screams were heard from high above and from those witnessing the horror below.
Bella instantly ducked from the hail of glass that now covered the sidewalk and street. Quickly, she ran toward the small grocery store across the way. Her breath labored as scores of onlookers frantically shouted as they moved about.
A wail of a siren and the sound of wooden wheels and hoofs on the brick street echoed against the buildings. She stood frozen as the horse-drawn fire engines set up along the burning building. By now, the 8th, 9th, and 10th floors were engulfed in flames.
The frenzied firefighters worked diligently. But it was no use. Their wooden ladders fell short. Even their life nets could not catch all the bodies jumping from the devastated fire.
The horrible sounds of people crying out for help and bodies hitting the ground caused Bella to turn away. The smell of burnt flesh had become unbearable.
Chaos filled the entire block of Washington and Greene Street. The owner of the grocery store had rushed out at the sight of the burning building. It was time for Bella to leave.
She hurried inside the empty store. Within seconds, she pulled out the Montauk device. It had already been preset for the present -- home. She only needed to go through the doorway and press the send button.
“Well, well…what do we have here?” said a husky male voice from behind. Instantly, Bella turned about. Her heart was racing inside her chest.
The man was grubby. Shabby clothes and a scarred face. His dark eyes peered at her. He licked his cracked lips. One of his filthy hands held a large, shiny knife.
“What’s that you got in your hand, little lady? Might be worth a pretty penny,” he slurred. “Hand it over if you don’t want to get hurt.” The assailant pushed the knife out ahead of him. “In fact, maybe first you and I could have some fun,” he chuckled. His slimy tongue hanging out of his contorted mouth.
It didn’t take long before Bella’s self-defense training kicked in. Her mind focused on escape. Even in the long dress, her leg came up high and hard. Her shoe connected with the attacker’s head. For a moment, the startled man did nothing. It was with the second roundhouse kick that he dropped the knife, then fell to his knees before falling unconscious.
Without hesitation, Bella dashed through the open archway and pressed the send button home.
Once again, a slight burning sensation seared through Bella’s hand. Her mind was instantly blank. Seconds later, she gasped for breath. Her chest was tight, and her stomach was nauseated.
“Bella…it’s good to have you back,” came a faded voice. “Bella, can you hear me?”
Her mind was foggy, and her eyes blurred. She recognized the voice—Hal. Thank heavens, she made it home.
“Let me help you,” he said. His warm breath on her neck and strong arms holding her limp body.
Bella was led to a chair. Her eyes finally adjusted. A smile plastered across Hal’s face.
“You need to hydrate. Here…take it.” Hal held out a bottle of water. Bella took the cool liquid and drank it all. When she finished, her body returned to its normal state. She had made it back in one piece.
Without hesitation, Bella leaned forward and hugged Hal. He held her close. After several seconds, they broke apart. Her face warmed.
“How was the trip?” he asked. He pulled his chair closer. Bella felt relieved.
“Why did you want me to see…such horrific suffering and death?” Her eyes filled with tears.
Hal dropped his shoulders. “I had to be sure that in future assignments, you would be able to manage death. One of the most important aspects of time travel is that you must leave behind your emotions.”
“You mean your humanity.” She bit her lower lip. Hal gave a slight nod.
“Yes…and much more. We cannot change history, Bella, because the ripple effect could be more devastating than the original outcome. We must focus on the task at hand. Observe and collect information,” explained Hal.
Bella sniffed. She knew Hal was right. If she wanted to continue down the path her father had taken, she would need to control her emotions.
“Did you have any trouble on the return trip?” asked Hal. Bella’s thoughts rushed to the assailant at the store she had knocked unconscious.
“No…not really.” Bella looked away. She was not a good liar.
Hal’s eyes narrowed. “As you know, a full report of your trip will be needed after you are well rested.” He hesitated for a second, then stood up. Bella followed suit.
“Tomorrow,” said Hal, “we can discuss your next jump, and this one, I know, you will enjoy!”
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