David had slept soundly but he was woken up by a very loud knocking on the door. It wasn't the knocking that disturbed David more than the yelling that was coming from the front porch minutes after the loud knocking came. David has no idea what was going on, but he was aiming to find out. He didn't even put his boots on as he walked to the front door, and there was his father arguing with what seemed like an officer in uniform.
"Excuse me," David said as he took a few steps out the door, and stepped in between his father than the officer. "What seems to be the problem?"
"Who the hell is this?" the officer asked.
"He's family," David's father replied, "Just in town for a few days."
"Is that so," the officer said, "Can I have your name?"
"Sure," David said, as he grinned. "Marshal."
"Marshal what?" The officer then asked.
"Marshal isn't my name," David said, as he pulled out his wallet and flashed the big star in the officer's face. "It's my job title: I'm a United States Marshal, which means I'm a federal agent."
The officer's eyes popped open as that badge was the last thing he had expected to see when visiting that morning. "What are you doing here?"
"That would be none of your business," David said as he quickly put the badge away. "Do you know what witness tampering is?"
"I do," the officer said, taking a loud gulp.
"Do you have any idea how hard it is to secure a federal witness?" David continued, not giving the officer a chance to answer. "I'll rephrase that: do you want your boss to get an angry call from my boss, the director of the State Marshal's office, to chew his ass out because his people are interfering in federal operations?"
"I suppose not," the officer modestly replied.
"I didn't think so," David agreed, "My boss is a heated man even on his best days, so you do not want to get on his bad side. So unless your business is more important than ongoing federal investigations that have taken years to slowly build, then I suggest you walk away and do not return unless we call you to. Have I made myself clear?"
"Yes, I'm sorry." The man said as he backed away and started to walk back to his car. "Won't happen again!"
"It better not!" David called out, "Or I'll have your shield!"
David stood there with arms folded as he watched the car leave. David had a small smile on his face and he then turned to look at his father who was looking at him with a shocked look on his face.
"What?" he asked his father.
"I've been taking unwanted questions from that snoopy officer for years." His father informed him, "And that is the fastest I've ever seen him get out of here. That was incredible!"
"You'd be surprised how even the toughest guys will shrivel up and retreat when they're confronted by a bigger badass." David said, as he looked back to watch the car leave. "He won't give you any trouble for a while. Despite his curiosity, he won't risk his job to find out what's going on around here."
"That was exciting," his father said, "I can see why you're so good at your job. You very menacing, I didn't want to mess with you either."
"We Marshals have a reputation to uphold," David said, "We even have an unwritten rule about wearing cowboy boots to look more imposing."
"Really?" his father asked.
"No," David replied, laughing. "I wear the boots because I like to. Someone I used to date got me a pair for my birthday and I haven't stopped wearing them since. They're quite comfortable once you get used to them."
"My son the cowboy," his father said, patting his shoulder. "Come on in for breakfast."
"Sounds good to me," David said, as he followed the old man back in.
Breakfast was more casual this time around, as they didn't talk business and as the boys both allowed their parents to dictate the conversation as they talked about family and about their own younger years. David liked to hear the stories about his own young adventures, something he never had a chance to hear before he moved out. It was this kind of interaction that he missed when he became an adult. His parents had passed away before he had a chance to mend bridges, and here he was being given a second chance all thanks to Ricky and his amazing Portal. It wasn't until about an hour after breakfast that Dad asked David to follow him to the shed out back so they could talk more.
"Why the shed," David asked, "Can't we talk in the den again?"
"I'm sorry," his father apologized, "It's such a nice day, I wanted to get a little fresh air with you before you had to go."
"How far is the portal from here?" David asked.
"About ten miles that way." His father said, pointing. "I've made that trip so many times that a path is being worn into the ground."
"I saw a part of it." David said.
"I really liked taking that hike," his father told him, "It gave me time to think and rehearse about what I wanted to do. Clear my mind and mentally prepare for what was about to happen."
"I still can't believe this thing exists." David confessed, "It's going to take a while for me to accept that time travel is a thing."
"It does take time, excuse the pun." His father said as he laughed.
"Good one," David said, chuckling to the joke himself. "So far I've been told not to save JFK, not to kill Hitler, and that I get two days and no more. What else should I be aware of?"
"No killing," his father told him. "The most we should do is maim or injure. We have no way of knowing what that person does and who if effects. The butterfly effect has a habit of messing with reality, and if you kill someone that ripple is hard to undo because it reaches everyone."
"What about saving someone?" David asked, "Does saving a life have the same ripple effect?"
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
"It depends on who or how many lives are being saved," his father admitted, "Some cause no harm, but some could be enormous. We can't prevent an event from happening for example, but we can minimize the loss of life without changing history."
"Give me an example," David requested.
"The Titanic," his father said, "Did you know that it originally only had five lifeboats?"
"Just five?" David said, stunned. "Holy shit! That meant almost everyone onboard would have gone into the water!"
"Just about everyone," his father replied, "I was unable to stop that boat from sinking, as that would have been too big of a change but I managed to convince the politicians to put twenty lifeboats on it. That helped save almost half of the people onboard. I wanted to do more, but anymore would have caused problems."
"Still, that's a big difference." David said, as he was impressed.
"Over a thousand more souls saved," his dad confirmed, "And I learned that day that as long as we don't stop the actual event, we can save lives and try to make a difference."
"That's quite a loop hole you found there, pops." Davie said, thinking about it. "Has Ricky done anything like that?"
"You'll have to ask him," His father replied, "He can't tell us about what he changes in the future, as it's too much of a risk for us to know."
"I'll ask him," David said, as the reason was pretty valid. "Can't we tell you anything about the future? I know who wins the World Series for the next thirty years if you want to take Mom to Vegas, make a few friendly bets."
"That's nice of you to offer," His father replied, "But gambling is the easiest way to arouse suspicion. I've found that antiques are clearly the better way to make a few bucks. We can hand them over to auction houses and they can keep our names anonymous while auctioning off something worth a pretty penny. That's how we were able to buy the land surrounding the portal."
"What did you use?" David asked.
"I went to Cuba and bought a few paintings from Pablo Picasso." His father replied, "I actually gave him a lot more than what he was asking for and turned around and sold one of them for a small fortune."
"Hold on," David said, as he remembered something. "So that Picasso you have hanging in the living room... that's the real thing?"
"Yup," his father said, smiling. "It's my favorite. I'll only sell it if we come on hard times; saving it for a rainy day."
"Good idea," David said, "So I could do that too? Go back and just buy some old stuff and resell it here?"
"Yeah, but don't push your luck." His father warned him, "The lesser known your antiques are, and then the fewer questions you'll get. Don't just get twenty balls signed by Babe Ruth, toss in a few Mickey Mantles and even an odd Roger Maris to make the collection more believable."
"I'm more of a Ted Williams kind of guy," David confessed.
"A shame he couldn't win," his Dad reminded him, "I don't think the curse of the bambino will ever end."
"It does," David told him, "In 2004."
"Really?" his father said, surprised his son just blurted that out.
"I told you," David reminded him, "I know the next thirty winners."
"Well, keep the next twenty-nine to yourself." His father said, "I prefer to watch my sports unaware of results, more fun that way."
"I agree," David said, "Sorry about that."
"It's alright," his dad replied, "It's just one season. I'll make a few bucks that year but keep the rest to yourself, okay?"
"Deal." David said, taking a seat on one of the chairs that was outside. "Tell me where you've gone... who you've met."
"Would you believe me if I told you?" his father asked.
"The fact that I'm here talking to you know makes anything possible," David said to his father, "Unless this is all a dream?"
"Kind of," his father agreed, "The portal is projecting what we call an astral projection of yourself into the past. Everything feels real, but you're still in the cave this whole time. You can get hurt, but when you eventually go back to the cave any wounds you get will be gone."
"If I'm just a projection, how can we take stuff with us?" David asked. "If I take something and put it in my pocket, it will come back to the cave with me?"
"It will." His Dad confirmed, "But you have to be holding or touching the item when you go back. You also have to be careful of what you take with you when you come back. If you are not holding something when you go, it will be left behind and you don't want that to happen. Imagine leaving that small computer behind in the middle ages? During the inquisition? Mayhem."
"Duly noted," David said as he checked his pocket to make sure his smart phone was still in his pocket, which it was. He took the phone out and smiled back at his father. "Do you know what this also is?"
"What?" his father asked.
"It's a camera." David told him, "I can store thousands of pictures on this and download them all to my computer when I get home."
"Thousands?" his father repeated.
"Come over here," David said as he walked closer, "I'm going to show you a very annoying trend that young people do all the time in the 21st Century called the selfie. Stand still and smile."
David put his arm around his Dad's shoulder, and then with his other arm he took a picture of them both, smiling at the phone.
"I hope it turns out alright," His father asked.
"We can check," David said as he opened the screen. "Look for yourself."
He handed the smart phone to his father and he looked at the small screen with amazement. "Where do you put the film?"
"There is no film anymore," David informed him, "This is a digital camera."
"Amazing," the old man said, "It's is like a small computer screen."
Without warning, the phone made a small annoying sound. David took the phone back from his father and checked it.
"What the hell?" David said, checking the phone.
"What was that?" a voice called out.
Ricky just walked out the back door to check in on them to see what was going on.
"I got a text message!" David called back, "How is that possible?"
"That shouldn't be possible." Ricky said as he walked over. "Who is it from?"
"My boss," David said, reading it. "Just wanted to see if you're doing alright and how I'm doing too."
"How are you getting any messages here?" Ricky asked.
"The portal," David suggested, "Dad said we're still there right now. If I'm still in the cave, then so is my cell phone. It's still in my pocket and if it has any bars then I would still get texts and maybe even calls."
"Was any of that English?" his father asked, as the jargon was clearly unknown to him.
"That's something I never considered." Ricky said, as he was impressed. "Send a message back, see what happens."
Their father watched as David quickly typed a message on the small screen and then fired the message off.
"It went out!" David said, laughing. "This is unbelievable!"
"How do you get a signal?" Ricky asked. "I've never gotten a message."
"I have access to additional towers," David explained, "Which is why Cops and agents get better reception. We have more coverage than the best servers."
"Wow, I had no idea." Ricky said, "Can you set me up with one of those bad boys?"
"I'll see what I can do," David replied, "I wonder if I can make a call?"
"Not right now," Ricky said, "Let's not push our luck."
"So impressive," their father said, looking at it again. "Will I get a chance to play with one of these toys?"
"I'll tell you what," David said, "I'll buy you one when I get back."
"That's not fair!" Ricky said, taking offense to the comment.
"No, it's not," David said, turning to face his father. "You want one of these, quit smoking and ease up on the scotch. I'd also recommend getting rid of those Cuban cigars that I saw in the den, and eat some more greens! Do all that, and I'll buy you one because you'll live long enough to get one."
"You shouldn't be telling him this!" Ricky said, angered by the nerve his brother had to spoil these details. David just told his father the cause of his own death without actually saying it.
"I'm pretty sure this is the same thing Mom tells him to do all the time," David retorted, "He's been given this lecture more than a few times. I'm just asking him to listen to her because she's right... as usual."
His dad looked at him. "He's right. Your mother has been asking since they day you two were born, and I've been a stubborn ass."
"I know the feeling," David said, "My boss calls me that all the time, so I guess it runs in the family."
Everyone had a good laugh, and the tension eased up a bit. David's father hugged him and then his brother.
"I know you both mean well." He said to them, "I can't make any promises, but I will try."