Theorizing that one could time-travel within his own lifetime, Dr. Sam Beckett led an elite group of scientists into the desert to develop a top-secret project known as Quantum Leap.  Pressured to prove his theories or lose funding, Dr. Beckett prematurely stepped into the Project Accelerator…and vanished.

He awoke to find himself in the past, suffering from partial amnesia and facing a mirror image that was not his own.  Fortunately, contact with his own time was maintained through brainwave transmissions with Al, the Project Observer, who appeared in the form of a hologram that only Dr. Beckett can see and hear.

As evil ones do their best to stop Dr. Beckett’s journey, his children, Dr. Samantha Josephine Fulton and Stephen Beckett, continuously strive to retrieve their time-lost father and bring him home permanently.  Despite returning home several times over the last decade, Dr. Beckett has remained lost in the time stream…his final fate no longer certain.

Trapped in the past and driven by an unknown force, Dr. Beckett struggles to accept his destiny as he continues to find himself leaping from life to life, putting things right that once went wrong with the hopes that his next leap…will be the final leap home.

PROLOGUE

The lazuline and white expanse in his field of vision dissipated and was replaced by a black nothingness. The tingling sensation quickly left as well. He felt something rough on top of one hand and below another. Sam opened his eyes and looked down to see a blank wet green paper towel in between his hands. He looked up to see a green paper towel dispenser in front of him and a tall dark green half-filled trash can below it. Looking to his left he saw a large green half circle sink with cylindrical soap dispensers on either side, one nearly empty and the other half empty. The soap dispensers were also a dark green and judging by the glob on the edge between the sink and the wall, the soap was green as well. Above the sink was a spotless mirror with a green frame around it. From where he was currently standing he couldn’t see his reflection. Sam turned back and dropped the paper towel from his dry hands into the trash can and then turned back to the sink.

“I’m in a public restroom,” he said as he turned around slowly and surveyed his surroundings.

The walls, ceiling and tile floor were the same bilious green color as everything else he had already seen. He looked behind him and saw green toilet stalls and next to those were a specific feature found only in a public restroom belonging to a certain gender.

He looked down and saw he was wearing some kind of uniform and to his added relief he saw it wasn’t green, but black. He stepped in front of the mirror and took a look at himself.

He barely had time to study ‘his’ face when he noticed just what kind of uniform he was wearing.

A police uniform.

He was a police officer.

Again.

“Oh Boy.”

PART ONE

Aside from being a police officer, his current host had short straight light red hair with matching eyebrows and eyelashes, a neatly trimmed moustache, an oval face with a cleft chin with dimples on either side of his mouth when he smiled at the sight of the moustache.. He looked rather young, was of medium height and looked healthy and fit. His eyes were the strangest feature he had ever seen in his life. They appeared to be a peculiar violet color....or perhaps it was just the lighting.

A small metallic bar on his left side caught his attention and he leaned in to read what it said on there. “J. Sparke. What does the ‘J’ stand for? Jeremy, John, Jacob, Jack? Jake?” He looked around impatiently. “Al, where are you?”

He looked around the room once more and realized he had no idea how long he or J. Sparke had been in here. If he waited for Al to show up, people would most likely come looking for him and start asking questions.

He strode purposefully toward the dark green door and put his hand on the knob, which was also green. Why is everything such a dreadful green color? He thought as he looked at the room behind him and then wondered if the whole police station was painted the same color. With an inward sigh, he pulled open the door to find a short narrow green hallway. He followed it and turned to the right at the first green door he saw and went through.

The whole room was green. Green walls, carpet, ceiling, ceiling fans, water cooler, file cabinets, telephones. Every single thing. How could anyone tolerate this color scheme day in and day out?

A blonde haired man sitting at a green desk and chair looked up at Sam and his face broke out in a wide grin. “Hey Lilac Eyes, I was wondering if you had gotten lost or something.”

That confirms it wasn’t just the lighting. Sam mused as he looked at the tag on the blonde officer’s uniform. G. Tate. The green framed nameplate on his desk identified him as Gregory Tate.

The woman behind the blonde officer’s desk sighed. “Greg, you always say that, to everyone, no matter where they go or how long they’re gone for.” Sam quickly glanced at her nameplate and saw that she was P. Kelad with no indication whatsoever as to what the first initial stood for.

Greg turned his blue-grey eyes in her direction and flashed her a mischievous grin. “Peri, I’m not the only one who loves to torment him. You’re practically his play by play commentator, while I happen to just be a lowly gentle tease.”

“At least I limit myself, you torment everyone here,” Peri retorted playfully.

Sam smiled and left them to continue with their banter while he searched for his, or rather J. Sparke’s desk. It didn’t take long since it was right behind Peri Kelad’s own desk.

He barely noticed that Peri and Greg had stopped talking and didn’t even realize they were staring at him curiously.

“Subject appears to have forgotten a previous conversation with the Captain just before going to the restroom and seems to be carrying on business as usual,” Peri quietly said just loud enough for Sam and Greg to hear.

Sam looked up puzzled as Peri continued her narration. “Or subject is purposefully ignoring previous conversation to avoid going out in this horribly cold weather, but seeing as how the subject is always eager to get away from this ‘Pea soup colored construction’ as he once put it, the subject has most likely forgotten said conversation about new assignment.” She finished with a smirk. “The subject appears confused whereas the subject would normally vehemently deny such accusations about slips of memory.”

Sam glanced at both their faces and their grins slowly melted in to confused and concerned frowns.

I better act as though I know what’s going on before they start asking questions. He thought. They mentioned something about a new assignment and the Captain.... He brightened his face as though he just remembered something. “Oh that’s right! I’m supposed to see the Captain about the new assignment that came in.” He got up with a smile leaving Greg and Peri staring at him with slightly open mouths.

Sam looked around for the appropriate office, found it and walked towards and was about to knock on the glass window, which was covered on the inside, when the door swung opened and a man with deep brown eyes almost ran in to Sam. The Captain looked at him in brief surprise before stepping back. “Oh, there you are. I was wondering where you wandered off to.” He gestured to a nearby chair indicating that Sam should sit there.

Sam sat down and decided to go with a near truth. “I was talking with Peri and Greg for a little bit and they reminded me that you wanted to see me,” he said looking at the Captain’s nameplate on his desk and saw that it was Emmett Clayton.

The captain raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You forgot? I thought you once told me you have an eidetic memory and you remembered everything.”

Sam wasn’t sure how to respond. “Well, I suppose there is a first time for everything,” he said as he glanced over his shoulder to see if Al was anywhere nearby.

“Yes, I suppose there is.” Captain Clayton cleared his throat and picked up a manila folder. “This new investigation has to do with the Mockley family of Juneau . Maxwell Mockley was found in the study by his maid yesterday morning.  Cause of death was determined to be from a gunshot wound to the forehead and was apparently instantaneous. The police haven’t a single clue as to who did it so that’s why this assignment is going to you.”

“Who else lives there?” Sam asked as he felt the methodical mind of J. Sparke rise up to grasp at a few extra details.

“Maxwell himself did, as well as the maid, his daughter Naomi, her husband Harry and their daughter Olivia, Olivia’s husband Roger, their son Patrick and his wife Emily and their little girl Quendy…odd name. Anyway, Maxwell’s wife Frieda used to live there before she died,” the captain said as he consulted the folder. “However, at the time of the murder there were several visiting relatives.”

Sam frowned as he listened to Emmett. “Is there a reason so many people are living in that house?”

Captain Clayton grinned and shook his head. “Trust me on this Sparke, you really don’t want to know what goes on in these rich over-eccentrics minds.” He tossed the folder to Sam, who had to lean to one side in order to keep it from passing him. “Address is inside and you are dismissed.”

Sam ambled down the short hallway back to his desk as he read over what was in the file handed to him. As he approached the doorway to the rows of green desks he faintly heard the sound of chairs being pushed back on carpet.

He looked up and was greeted by the sight of people with desks on the opposite side of the room from his standing up and grinning at him. In near unison they all put their left arms above their head with their fingers pointing to their head, not touching the top of their heads and their other hands on their hips, started turning around in choppy circles and chanting  the words Ooga Chaga over and over.

The people other side of the room in which his, or rather J. Sparke’s, desk was located started clapping in time with the chanting from the impromptu dancers and then to his further astonishment and confusion they started singing.

“Can’t stop this feeling, deep inside of me.” They started before mercifully cut off by an all too familiar sound and sight of the Imaging Chamber door opening and closing.

Al stepped out in the middle of the room concentrating on the information from the handlink. “Sam, sorry, to have kept you waiting so long I-” He cut off as he looked up and finally noticed the chanting dancers and the singers.

He shook his head and raised the handlink after about a few seconds. “I see you found yourself in the funny farm.” He raised his head again and looked around. “What’s with all the green?” He waved a hand towards a nearby green water cooler. “Mind if we talk over there?”

Sam followed Al and placed the folder on top of the water cooler and drew himself a cup of water as the other people in the room decided to get back to work. “What do you have?”

“It’s January 28^th, 1985 in Juneau , Alaska . Your name is Julian Cyrus Sparke. You were born in a ranch in the middle of Montana . Your job is to investigate murder scenes that nobody else can seem to figure out or just too lazy to do a good job of it. You are married to a Wendy Christine Sparke, whose maiden name was Wendy Chrysanthemum Grass before she married Julian. She’s a painter and a part time assistant mortician. You are forty years old, she is thirty eight and you have two dogs, a Scottish Terrier named Dali and a sweet little Do-Do…” Al hit the side of the handlink. “Doberman.” He paused as he frowned at the information. “Doberman?” He looked up at a ceiling in his time and called out. “Are you sure about the dog breed Ziggy?” He paused, shrugged and went back to the handlink. “Alright, you have a Doberman named Woozy, a cat named Zeus and a parrot named Einstein. No children.”

Sam opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted. “Subject appears to be listening to a water cooler.” Came a voice behind him.

Sam turned around to see Peri standing there with a cassette tape in her hand and a winter coat slung over her arm.

He glanced at Al before answering. “Uh, I was just thinking of something.”

“Well if you were thinking of going home to pack a few things before heading off to the new assignment you were right. I’m not sure if you know but there’s a strong snowstorm headed this way.” She handed him the coat and cassette player. “Here is your coat so you don’t forget it and freeze to death outside and your thinking music. You really need to get a new song other than that ooga chaga song.”

Sam took the items, nodded and smiled. “I’ll definitely think about it.”

Al was busy working the handlink during the conversation, but had found what he wanted by the time Sam turned back around. “Her name is Peri Amethyst Kelad,  Peri is short for Periwinkle. She is your wife’s sister and is thirty five years old, has two kids Daniel and Zinnia, twins. It says here she entered law enforcement after losing a bet.” Al punched a few buttons. “Doesn’t say who with or what the bet was about.”

“What’s with their names? Periwinkle Amethyst and Wendy Chrysanthemum.” He inquired.

“Ah…Ok, the reason for that is their parents were pre-hippies. They were hippies long before the sixties came around, but made a pretty good living selling handmade clothing.”

“Is there anything else?”

Al looked around. “You better go home and pack, otherwise you’re gonna arouse suspicion if you stay here much longer. I‘ll get back to you when we find out more.”

“Where do I, or rather, where does Julian live?” Sam asked.

“In town.” Al quickly rattled off directions from the police station, punched a few buttons and stepped through the open Imaging Chamber door.

PART TWO

The ride home was nearly uneventful, although he did see a moose walking down the street in the oncoming lane with another younger moose that was jumping about the side of the road playing in the snow.

Sam found his host’s house without any trouble. It was a medium sized blue house on a corner opposite of a small bookstore.

Walking up to the front door, Sam picked out the key that Al had told him would unlock the front door. He unlocked it, stepped inside and closed the door. A few seconds later he heard happy frenzied barking and was soon greeted by a small black dog that wasn’t the Doberman.

The Scottish Terrier stopped in her tracks and backed up a little in surprise to see Sam there instead of Julian and at that moment the Doberman came walking into sight from another room and looked quizzically at Sam.

“Julian? Is that you? I’m in here with Einstein.” A voice called through the house. 

Sam looked at the two dogs who were staring at him. “Um, excuse me…I have to.” He gestured to where the voice came from.

The Doberman woofed softly while the smaller one whined and walked over to lie down in a corner and looked at him reproachfully.

Sam discovered Wendy, the owner of the voice, in the living room near a bird stand with a parrot perched on top of it.

Einstein tilted his head and narrowed his eyes slightly as he studied Sam. “Not Julian,” he said after a few seconds.

Wendy laughed. “Of course it’s Julian. He hasn’t been gone that long.”

“Julian’s clothes but not Julian,” the parrot emphasized.

Wendy grinned. “Did you forget what Julian looks like?” She turned to Sam. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me. I have a few phone calls to make.” Einstein stared at her as if in disbelief that she couldn’t see what the bird could see.

“So how are you today Einstein?” Sam asked, hoping he could get the bird to trust him.

Einstein looked at him with one eye in suspicion. “Camptown races sing this song. Doo-Dah, Doo-Dah,” he replied.

“You’re not going to talk to me are you?” Sam asked in mild amusement.

“Doo-Dah, Doo-Dah,” the bird repeated emphatically.

Sam sighed, left the room and went upstairs in search of the bedroom. He found it at the end of the hall on the right. He opened the sliding closet door and found a suitcase on the lower shelf above the clothes. He took it off the shelf, closed the door and turned around to go to the bed, glanced at the window and stopped.

There on the windowsill was a beautiful grey cat staring at him with what could be described as confusion.

Sam smiled in hopes that at least this member of the Sparke menagerie would like him. “Hi, you must be Zeus, I’m Sam.”

The cat just made a strange grunting noise and looked back out the window in disinterest and twitched its tail.

As he was packing, he heard Al come through the Imaging Chamber door and as it closed the cat jumped from the windowsill and bolted out of the room at top speed.

Al, having heard the sound of paws thumping on a wood floor, looked at the doorway. “What in the world was that?”

“Cat,” Sam replied.

“Sounded to me like some sort of stampede,” Al said as he raised the handlink.

“What can you tell me about the Mockley house and why so many people are living in it at once?” Sam asked before Al could get a word in first.

“It was designed to be a multigenerational home. Abraham Mockley was first to build it and passed it on to his son Bartholomew in hopes of keeping it through twenty four more generations to where the child with a name starting with a Z would take all of the files, notes and journal entries, make them into a book and publish them.” Al read aloud looking somewhat amused. “Twenty six generations living in the same house, that has to be some sort of record,” he added as he shook his head.

“The family name is still Mockley?” Sam asked as he remembered three of the names that the captain had mentioned.”

Al nodded as he read something else. “Yeah, the reason for that is apparently Abraham stipulated that if there were ever a female chosen to inherit the house and if she were married that she keep the name Mockley and have her husband change his name to Mockley as well. Although it says here in the family history that the inheritors were apparently chosen before they were married.” He shook his head at what he had read. “One big eccentric family, but according to Ziggy, they’re the richest family in the county though.”

“Why am I here Al?” Sam finally asked. “Did Julian arrest the wrong person in the original history? Is there something in his personal life that needs to be fixed?”

Al obviously hesitated before telling Sam what they had found. “No Sam, Ziggy says there’s a 96% chance that you’re here to keep Julian and the rest of the Mockleys from getting mysteriously killed.”

PART THREE

“Killed? How were they all killed?” Sam asked.

“Fell into the foaming brine.” Came a sing song voice from the doorway. Al and Sam looked up to see that Einstein was perched on the top of the door.

“How long have you been there?” Sam asked.

The bird glanced at him and shifted position. “Cat ran. Funny,” it said as a reply.

“Must have been here since I came in,” Al muttered. “Ziggy says this is a pretty intelligent parrot.” He waved a hand in dismissal at the bird and went back to business. “Everyone was found dead in the living room. They were all shot and the gun was found on the kitchen table.  The only fingerprints on it were Maxwell Mockley’s himself and his death is the one you’re investigating.”

“Ooooh.” Came a voice from above.

Al glanced up at the bird. “Oh, shut up.”

“Perhaps Maxwell staged his death and killed someone else. Did he have a brother?”

Al consulted the handlink. “Yes, his name was Marvin, sometimes went by the name Marcel, but according to the other family members he died a long time back after he moved out.” He gaped at the new information on the screen. “Get this Sam! The body of Maxwell Mockley was found with his hands chopped off in the backyard after investigators found the other Mockleys and Julian in the living room!” Al lowered the handlink and looked at the ceiling. “This leap just keeps getting more and more mysterious.”

“Wouldn’t they have buried or cremated him by that time?”

Al looked at the handlink again. “They cremated him the day before today.”

“Then how was his body found in the backyard a few days from now?”

“They must have switched bodies?” Al guessed as the parrot mimicked a cackling laugh.

Sam started to say something but was interrupted by a squealing handlink. He and Al looked down.

“Ziggy says you better move otherwise you’re going to get there after dark and get caught in the storm,” Al said as he punched in a few keys to call up the door. “I’ll come back later to check on you.”

The handlink squealed again and they looked at it momentarily before they realized the true source and looked up at the door where the parrot was still perched.

“Doo-Dah, Doo-Dah.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The drive to the Mockley estate did not have a moose anywhere in sight, but vast expanses of snow that was already on the ground. Sam had turned on the radio before he left the house and heard they were expecting about two to three feet of snow in the area before morning.

“No wonder they weren’t found for a few days,” Sam said aloud to himself as he slowed the car down when he came to an intersection where he had to turn.

He drove a few more miles and got to his destination a few minutes after the snow really started coming down, but before dark fall.

He got out of the car, closed the door and turned to find Al standing there in front of him.

“I thought the storm wasn’t supposed to get here until after dark.” Sam whispered.

“This isn’t the storm,” Al said gesturing to the falling storm. “The storm caused whiteout conditions where you could only see two feet in front of you.” He turned and pointed down the driveway. “The road there is more than two feet.”

Sam looked at the mansion and the evergreen trees surrounding it. The door was made of wood and the surrounding wall was in the style of a log cabin. “It looks old.”

“It is old. It was built at least a little over two centuries ago. It was originally a small log cabin and additional generations added on to it. That wall and door there is what is left of the original house. How about we go inside before you catch pneumonia?” Al added as he and Sam walked up to the door. Sam paused for a moment as he thought he spotted movement near one of the nearby pine trees. It looked to be a person, but it was probably his imagination.

Sam lifted the brass knocker with a fanged dragon head on it and hit it against the door a few times. About a minute later a young boy of about twelve looked through the window and then opened the door.

“Hello, I’m Officer Sparke and you are?”

“This is Quentin Davidson, ten year old son of Patience and Ronald Davidson and Patience is the thirty year old daughter of Owen and Marilyn Mockley and Owen is the fifty year old son of Naomi Mockley, who in turn is the seventy year old daughter of Maxwell who died when he was ninety two,” Al said helpfully.

“I’m Quentin,” the young boy said. “Nice to meet you Mister Sparke. Please come in.”

Sam stepped into the hallway and put his coat on a nearby coat rack and turned to see a woman walking towards him.

“Hello, I’m Emily Mockley, Parker Mockley’s wife. Parker isn’t here right now, as he had business to attend to in another city and won‘t be back for another two weeks.”

“Sam! Maybe Parker really isn’t away, but here in the house somewhere and he’s the one who killed everybody.” He checked the handlink. “No, he was found dead too…” He glanced up at Emily and looked back down. “He must have come back early or something since his body was found with everyone else’s.”

“Come into the living room Mister Sparke, everyone is dying to meet you,” Emily said with a small smile.

“Ooh, bad choice of words lady,” Al replied with a grimace.

PART FOUR

Once in the living room Emily introduced Sam to everyone while Al provided additional information.

“Naomi is a retired school teacher who taught English and Harry is a former politician turned newspaper editor. Her sister, twin sister, I might add, Nadine died in childbirth. Nathaniel is Naomi’s younger brother. He never bothered to marry nor have children. He sells yachts and collects weapons such as swords and guns.”

Al looked up pointedly. “How much you want to bet that he’s the one?”

He looked back down at the handlink. “Olivia, Naomi’s daughter, was an accomplished dancer before she broke her ankle and Roger is an accountant in a nearby town. This is interesting, in her autopsy the morticians found DNA evidence that Olivia was a tetragametic chimera…I’ll explain later. Let’s see, Owen used to be a boxer before he gave that up and now he works in a post office.”

Al looked at Owen’s oft-broken nose. “You’d think he’d be able to prevent the killer from killing everyone….unless the person took them by surprise. Nancy makes pottery out of her house, she’s pretty good according to Ziggy. Oliver here is a bank teller in Washington . He lives…” Al paused for a moment. “He lives with his life partner Larry. Larry is a cartoonist for a newspaper.  Patrick is a real estate agent in town while Emily is a housewife who plays the alto saxophone in a local town band and volunteers at the library. Patrick isn’t here of course, but he might be here later, since his body was found here in the original history. Parker is a carpenter and dog breeder who enjoys hang gliding and kayaking and gardening and grows flowers for competitions.”

Al paused as something else came onto the screen. “Patrick and Parker are triplets and their other brother is named Perry. Perry was shunned from the family for some unspecified reason and they haven’t seen him since. Ziggy doesn’t have anything else on him.” Al took a breath before continuing. “Patience here is a local deejay at one of the radio stations she is also in one of the bowling leagues. Penny, Patience’s twin sister as you can clearly see….”

Al halted briefly, rocked back and bounced on his heels then looked at Sam. “There seems to be an awful lot of multiple births in this family, but apparently it runs in the ancestry.” 

Al shook his head to clear it and then continued. “Penny is training to be a physical therapist. Quentin and Quinn are the twin sons of Patience, they are ten years old. And lastly there is Quendy,” Al said as the arrived at an armchair, glanced at the little girl looking up at him with calm green eyes and did a double take and then looked back at the handlink. “According to Ziggy, Quendy is four years old.”

Al turned around as he realized something. “Saaaam,” he said with a particular tilt of his head. He walked over to the leaper and positioned himself so that the young child couldn’t see what he was talking about and talked in a low tone. “She’s four years old, kids under five are still in their alpha state and they can see me and they can see you as you, not sure if you could remember that or not and here I am practically shouting so you can hear over the chatter. What do I keep saying, I keep saying her whole family is going to die! She’s being unusually calm about it though, no crying.”

Sam looked in the direction where Quendy was sitting while all the other adults were chatting amongst themselves. She had chin length brown hair and the face of a pixie and was watching him very carefully. Between the chair and the end table next to it was a young russet colored dog with long hair and floppy ears peeking out at him. Covering his mouth, so it wasn’t obvious he was talking he inquired about the dog.

“That would be Maggie, Quendy’s Irish Setter. Oh Sam, those are an absolute gorgeous breed. Maggie isn’t exactly a puppy, but not exactly fully grown either. She’s at the age where she is still full of energy, mischief and mayhem but also capable of quiet companionship.” Al’s face fell as he read something else. “Oh, poor girl.”

“The dog too?” Sam guessed.

“The dog too,” Al confirmed miserably as he punched some buttons. “I didn’t see this. According to Ziggy, Quendy is unable to talk. Not sure if that’s important or not.”

Sam glanced towards Quendy to see she was no longer in the armchair, but was now perched on a small bench by the wall and was looking out the side of the window. A few seconds later the front door opened and closed again.

Maggie lifted her head and looked towards the stairs, barked once and dashed out of the room, up the stairs and out of sight.

A man walked into the room just as Al’s handlink started making a tremendous racket. The new arriver was identical in appearance to Parker that Sam realized this must be Patrick, the one who wasn’t supposed to be here, but whose body was found here anyways.

“Sam! Ziggy says it’s happening any minute now!” Al announced as Parker and everyone else, except for Quendy who stayed near the window, stepped forward with a smile.

“Patrick, so nice to see you again. I haven’t seen you in ages.” Sam wasn’t too sure, but to him Patrick looked a little startled and confused at the statement, but unable to focus on two things at once he looked at Al for clarification.

“Ziggy doesn’t have the exact details of whom, but she says it will happen at any moment.”

“It’s nice to see you too Parker,” Patrick replied a bit stiffly. “How is everything going with you?”

“Oh, things are going great. Cheryl is due any day now.”

Patrick nodded. “That’s good, so how has your wife been dealing with her pregnancy?”

Al looked up sharply from the handlink. “Sam! Cheryl isn’t Parker’s wife, she is his German Shepard he has for a pet. I don’t think that is Patrick at all, it must be Perry!”

Parker gave his brother a strange look and started to say something as the door opened and closed once more and a few seconds later an identical man came and stood next to Perry.

“What in the world is going on here?” Al wondered aloud.

Parker looked from the person he identified as Patrick to the newcomer and back, curled his lip back. “Perry, I should have known it was you,” he said disgustedly.

The other brother spoke up. “Actually, Parker, I am Perry and he is Patrick. We switched identities after he got into his little trouble. We weren’t sure how Mom and Dad would take the news of how their honorable son did that so I volunteered to switch identities with him since I had a bit of a reputation for being the bad one.”

Everyone stared in shock at this latest bit of news and the real Perry bent down to pick up a briefcase he had set down near him.

“Sam, the real Perry must be the one!” Al said urgently.

Sam stepped forward to keep Perry from opening the briefcase when a voice from the other side of the room called out to them in a hushed tone.

“You must get out of here now! He’ll be coming down any minute.”

Sam and everyone else in the room turned to look at the source of the voice.

There, standing in the other entrance to the living room, was a white haired man of about ninety years of age. He wasn’t stooped over, but seemed rather healthy.

Olivia’s eyes widened in shock. “Grandfather Maxwell?! I thought you were dead!”

The not so dead man began to speak, but was cut off from a voice coming from the stairs.

“You’re too late Marcel, warning them isn’t going to do them any good.”

Everyone turned to see a doppelganger of the man in the living room doorway in the middle the stairs with a gun in his hand aimed at the person he called Marcel. Maggie was at the head of the stairs looking down warily at the man in front of her.

“I’m not letting you do this Marvin. You already killed Maxwell.” Marcel replied somberly.

“Ah, Marvin never did go by the name Marcel, Marcel was a different person. Triplets again.” Al clarified. “Ziggy still gives an eighty percent chance that everyone will be killed.”

Marvin smirked at his brother. “I’m not completely heartless, I won’t kill you first.” He looked around at the assembled group, who had parted in half and settled on Quentin and Quinn, who were closer to the stairs.

He raised the gun and asked. “Do you two brats have any last words?”

They were looking at the top of the stairs were Maggie still was, looked at Marvin and then at each other. In silent communication they nodded subtlety and turned to look at the head of the stairs again.

“WATERMELON!” They shouted in unison.

Maggie’s ears perked up at this word and she started barking her head off and barreled down the stairs knocking Marvin off his feet. Maggie came to the boy’s side and kept on barking happily as Marvin tumbled down the stairs with a shout.

“Fifty percent,” Al announced.

Everyone’s joy was extremely short lived as Marvin quickly got back to his feet and placed himself in between the two groups.

He aimed the gun at Quentin. “Now that wasn’t very nice,” he said and fired.

Or so Sam had thought. When Marvin cried out and grabbed his neck and slumped to the floor, Sam realized the sound had come from behind him. He turned around to see Quendy with her arms outstretched holding the gun in front of her and eyes wide with alarm and the bench lid open behind her.

“Ziggy says there’s a zero percent chance now,” Al said softly.

Perry came over and took the object from his daughter’s hands and looked it over. “My tranquilizer gun, I’ve been wondering where that was.”  He looked up to see everyone staring numbly at him and then glanced down at the prone body on the floor. “He’s not dead, he’s just unconscious and will be for several hours.”

“Sam you changed history. Patrick is accepted back into the family, he and Perry switch identities back around, Marvin doesn’t get burnt out in the back yard. Quentin becomes a hostage negotiator; Quinn becomes an animal psychologist and animal trainer. Quendy grows up and has a son named Riley Alsam…Alsam, Oh, Al and Sam, hey she named her son after us!”

Sam felt a familiar tingle of the beginnings of the leap and he looked down at the smiling face of Quendy.

“Bye Sam,” she said very quietly.

“Hey, guess what Sam,” Called Al’s rapidly fading voice. “She becomes a speech therapist. She can talk!”

EPILOGUE

As the unseen guiding hand of Time had placed him back in reality, he could feel the gentle warmth of the sun that rested on his shoulders, lightly dampened grass on his knees, and smooth stone against his fingertips. When the radiant halo of cobalt blue light had faded away he could clearly see the small grave marker that he knelt before. He didn’t notice the gentleman that stood behind him.

PVT. ZACHARY DAVID PORTER

U.S. ARMY

FEBRUARY 12, 1986 – AUGUST 27, 2004

“He was just a kid,” Sam commented as he wrinkled his forehead. He gently moved his fingers along the lettering etched in the stone, lost in thought. From somewhere back in the recesses of his mind, he knew pretty much how this Private Porter had died, yet his conscious mind refused to make the connection. Help came from the gentleman who stood behind Sam, gently placing a hand on Sam’s shoulder. Startled, the Leaper jerked his head over his shoulder.

“Still can’t believe it’ll be a year on Saturday, son. Still seems like yesterday that he was telling me he planned on joining the Army.”

It took less than a moment for Sam to recover from his shock.  Brushing away bits of grass that clung to his knees, Sam stood up, holding his gaze on the grave marker. It didn’t take a holographic Observer to tell him the reason that he had been sent to this family. Just standing there, feeling the pain behind the man’s words, Sam already knew what his task was. The next step was the ‘how’ part. Sam considered part of the situation a blessing; it wasn’t all that often that he was presented with his task upon Leaping in. Then there was the other part. Although he knew, in his heart, why he had been sent to the Porter family, he hadn’t the slightest clue as to how to go about righting the wrong. The logical choice was to wait until Al arrived to provide him with the details.

The gentleman quickly wiped at his watery eyes as he looked over at the man whom he saw as his oldest son. “I,” he began to say but the words caught in his throat. After swallowing he said, “I…can’t.” He squeezed his eyes shut and, when he opened them a couple moments later, they were slightly reddened and watery. “How ca—can I be there for you and your mother when I can’t even find the strength to carry myself?” 

Sam started to speak but quickly held his tongue. A part of him desperately wanted to comfort this man, to tell him that everything will be alright. However, the other part of him felt that saying nothing at this point was the best choice. While he felt he knew why he was there, he had yet to know the details. So instead, Sam merely placed a hand on the man’s shoulder and smiled. 

“This was a mistake,” the elder Porter said as he turned his back to his son’s grave, “I shouldn’t have let you talk me in coming out here. Maybe your mother was right.”

Sam called out after him. “Dad, wait!” And instead of going after the man, the Leaper simply stood there, watching as the man strode across the cemetery, heading towards a black and red painted 1962 Chevrolet truck that was parked across the lot.

Sam took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Oh boy.”