“Silas!”

He heard his name, but said nothing, figuring if he didn’t speak, Mrs. Murphy wouldn’t find him and just leave him alone. It was a gamble, what with him being in the shower.

“Silas Clark!”

It was a foolish thing to hope for, considering his landlady’s unhinged need to get her way. But he tested it out, anyway. After all, he just finished washing his body, and the next five minutes of contemplation with hot water hitting him was the peace he needed to make it through the day.

“I don’t like this any more than you, but Time is looking for you!” Mrs. Murphy shouted.

Despite the downpour in the shower, Silas’ training kicked in and he heard the door jiggling. Mrs. Murphy had a key, and the old woman was stubborn enough to come straight in here to talk to him, regardless of how he was dressed. Or not dressed in his case.

Silas sighed before turning the water off right as he heard the door open. He wrapped a towel securely around his lower body before Mrs. Murphy walked in before placing her hands on her hips.

“Do you know there was a time in history where I could sue you? Take you to court. Prove you violated my privacy and therefore need to give me money for the trauma you’re putting me through?” Silas stared at the blank wall above his sink because he didn’t want to look at his eighty-year-old landlady.

Mrs. Murphy still kept her hands on her hips, shaking her head. “You’re not a historian, you’re a time agent. I don’t believe you.”

“Was. Was a time agent. I’m retired now,” Silas said.

“So I pay you because I caught a look at you? There’s a profession you can look into.” Silas grabbed a smaller towel to dry his light brown hair. He hadn’t got a haircut since his last mission with Time Management six months ago. Mrs. Murphy pointed to the place that used to hang a mirror. “You could at least hang some art there. Instead of pretending there’s a mirror.”

“I already know what I look like,” Silas said.

“Oh, do you? I doubt you’ve combed your hair in months,” Mrs. Murphy said.

Silas finished drying his hair. “That would be a great time to be alive. Where you wouldn’t be allowed to march in here. Where I actually had people defending my right to privacy.” He walked past Mrs. Murphy.

“I know the soldiers I house here. Time will never let you have your privacy.”

His bare feet padded across the carpet, hardly a smile on his face. “Time should reevaluate how long you’ve been a landlady and switch you out before actual time claims you.”

“Ha, ha.” She followed him into the little kitchenette. “I’m planning on living to a hundred and fifty.”

Silas opened the small fridge. “God help us all.” He searched the contents before pulling out a bottle of beer.

“Rumor said you’ve met Him,” Mrs. Murphy said.

“Pleasant Guy,” Silas said.

“Why don’t I believe you?”

Silas said nothing as he opened the bottle. It hissed and Mrs. Murphy glanced down to see the bottle and gave a pronounced frown. “It is eight-thirty in the morning.”

“You’re my landlady, not my mother.” He took a good long swig just because she was watching.

“There are some days I cannot believe you’re thirty-five,” she said.

He raised his bottle to that before walking over to drop a piece of bread in the toaster.

Mrs. Murphy still had that perpetually annoyed look on her face. At least the woman had the decency to look eighty. Gray almost took her brown hair over, and she even had a bend to her back. She had small glasses covering her brown eyes. She was almost as old as Hillside View, the apartment complex Time Management had her in charge of.

“Time Management contacted me because you haven’t been answering their calls,” Mrs. Murphy said. Silas again said nothing, taking another long swig. “You know how ornery they get when you don’t answer them.”

“Trained them well, did you?”

She slapped his arm because she could. “I’m not that old.”

Silas didn’t have his watch on him. He hardly had anything on right now, but he knew what Mrs. Murphy meant. It started a few days ago, but phone calls were coming from his old work. He ignored the calls and the voicemails, as well as the emails Time Management sent. He no longer worked for them. It was their own fault for forcing him into early retirement. Made worse by subsequently housing him in their facility everyone knew was for “troubled time agents”. But there was literally nowhere else to go, and it wasn’t like he was going to an office job after traveling through time. Besides, living here guaranteed being blacklisted on every single record on earth. Sure, the apocalypse from two hundred years ago made the earth not nearly as widespread as before, but the point still stood.

Stolen story; please report.

Silas pulled out some jam from the fridge.

“For you. I am to remain here while you read it.”

“Landlord, mother, and prison ward. You wear so many hats, Mrs. Murphy.” Silas glanced over his shoulder to see her holding a letter. An actual handwritten letter. “Seriously?”

“Just read it. I have other places to be.” She pushed it onto his chest, and he took it so the water droplets wouldn’t get on it. Calling, voicemail, email, now actual mail delivered to him while he was trying to enjoy his morning shower. Of all the agents he knew Time Management had, they sent his eighty-year-old landlord to make sure he got the message.

He sighed, unfolding the letter and reading the curt message.

Urgent appointment with Director Kavanagh at earliest convenience. If a meeting hasn’t happened twenty-four hours since the delivery of the message, we will send agents to bring you in.

“Perfect.” Silas tossed the letter to one side before catching his toast popping out of the toaster.

Mrs. Murphy tapped something on her watch. “Twenty-four hours starting now. Best of luck with your meeting, Silas Clark.”

“Didn’t you tell them I’m retired?”

“They’re the ones that retired you. They already know that.” Mrs. Murphy headed for the door. “And stop drinking so much beer. You’ll get a gut, and I don’t want to see that.”

“You shouldn’t be allowed to see anything.”

“You don’t bring anyone home to enjoy the view, so someone’s got to.”

“You’re married, Mrs. Murphy,” Silas called out after her as she shut the door. Mrs. Murphy didn’t respond, and he listened to her footfalls going down the stairs.

Silas spread some jam on his toast before munching away at it. His mission six months ago bubbled from the recesses of his memory, but he closed his eyes, washing it down with some beer. He glared at the letter on the counter. Earliest convenience but must be within twenty-four hours. Time Management clearly hadn’t changed in the last six months he was working there. Pretending to make it in the person’s best interest as long as the two interests coincided. And if they didn’t, Time always got what it wanted.

***

Silas dressed, putting his watch on, and saw the hundreds of missed calls, emails, and voicemails from Time Management. Those were just from last night to this morning. He deleted them all as he grabbed his gardening gloves. He wanted to do some work in the communal garden. No one else seemed to take care of it, and he found he quite enjoyed digging in the dirt.

He focused on the mound of dirt that came from most of the islands from the past. Special missions to collect rich earth from time periods where the dirt hadn’t been poisoned by nuclear war. Silas glanced at the “hillside” view that the apartment complex got its name from. It was a small hill, covered in the same stolen dirt, with trees that were finally looking like they were maturing. It was two hundred years since the apocalypse, but the trees were growing again. That had to mean something.

The weed gave way as Silas pulled. He loved fresh strawberries, and he wouldn’t let the weed steal that from him. He heard the Time Agent sneaking up on him, and he let the guy come. Yes, the agent’s presence annoyed him, but he didn’t want to take it out on the guy. After all, according to his watch, he still had twenty-one hours left. Time Management really didn’t enjoy waiting.

The agent continued to creep up on him, and Silas was more than happy to let him until he heard the noise of a stun gun unlocking.

“You know I hate being stunned,” Silas said.

“Oh, come on, Clark,” the man said.

“I thought it was you, Anderson. Always too quick with the stun gun.”

“Orders are orders.”

Until about six months ago, Lewis Anderson was Silas’ partner at Time Management. It did not thrill him to see a familiar face. Six months was not nearly long enough to forget what happened.

Anderson had thick blonde hair cut short as all Time Agents are required to do. He had blue eyes, and a smile Silas sometimes found hilarious, and at other times wanted to punch off.

“Mrs. Murphy told me I had twenty-four hours from this morning.” Silas grunted, pulling another weed.

“Yes, well, that message was for when you received it a week ago. Kavanagh placed this as top priority. Any means necessary.” Anderson patted his stun gun at his side as Silas rolled his eyes.

Perhaps he should be grateful Anderson only wanted to stun him. He could think of a lot worse ways to be dragged to Time Management. Silas moved from the strawberries to the raspberries. “I’m retired.”

“Forced retirement,” Anderson said.

“Which means I’m not allowed on any more missions,” Silas said.

“You’re not even curious? Not even a little bit?”

“Nope.”

Anderson shook his head, smiling. This smile was one Silas wanted to punch. “Come on, Clark. You’re one of the best Time Agents out there, and the Mayor requested you specifically.”

Silas wrapped his fingers around the weed before he pulled. “You know what the mission is?”

“No, but I can guess. If the Mayor is involved and he’s willing to pour all the money into getting the best of the best back from retirement, you know it’s got to be good.”

“Forced retirement,” Silas said.

“Oh, come on. So, you accidentally saw God and now have proof of his non-existence. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Silas’ stomach clenched, and he forced himself to spit out the words he trained himself to say. “Allegedly saw Him.”

“Are you seriously that afraid of the religious nut jobs that might come after you for spreading the truth?”

Silas sighed, then stood up, brushing himself off. “Look, I can’t go back in time anymore. I don’t care what the mission is, I don’t care what I need to get. It’s been six months. I’m rusty, and I’m not in the right mind for it.”

“I’m not supposed to convince you to take a mission I know nothing about. I’m supposed to come get you for Kavanagh to convince you to take it,” Anderson said.

“I still have twenty-one hours before I’m late for the meeting.” Silas started to walk away. He heard the familiar sound of handcuffs tightening as he felt the metal against his wrist. He looked down to see him handcuffed to Anderson. “Seriously?”

“If you don’t want to be stunned, you go meet Kavanagh like this. I need that bonus. One step closer to buying that car.”

Silas rolled his eyes. “So typical of you, Anderson.”

“Thanks. Let’s take you to Kavanagh.”