Run For Their Lives

Run For Their Lives - Chapter 15 cont

Al shot him a quizzical look. What could be left to do?
?Don?t tell me you?re enjoying yourself too much to go, pal, cos I aint buying.?
He instinctively raised his hand link, but Sam ? for once ? provided the answer first.
?Oi got the Da his girls back,? he began. Al?s face said ?So? Let?s Leap.?
But Sam continued; ?Now Oi have t?get the girls their Da back.?
?Huh?? Al stepped closer to his friend. It was worse than he?d thought. The kid was delirious.
?Zig-gy!? he challenged, through clenched teeth, wondering how much worse things could get.
Sam was about to demonstrate that, far from being a Senator short of a Committee, he knew exactly what he was talking about, when Connie unwittingly pre-empted him.
Lyle Strickland had been asking ? in somewhat critical tones ? why Mary had not brought his daughters straight back to London, whereupon the normally jovial Cockney became rather irate. Virtually snatching the phone from Tori, she blasted him:
?The poor woman almost died rescuing your girls. She?s a flippin? ?eroine. How much more do you want from ?er? She ain?t goin nowhere til she?s ?ad a chance to rest and recover. An? I?m gonna see to it she stays ?ere just as long as that takes. If you woz any kind of a farver, you?d get yerself down ?ere pronto. These little ?uns need a loving parent after wot they bin frew, but I guess you?re the closest they got.?
Before Strickland could object to being spoken to in that fashion, Sam took the phone and pressed home the point:
?She?s right, sir,? he said, politely but firmly, ?The girls need you.?
Lyle found his voice at last and butted in: ?They sound fine to me. Not that it?s any of her business. Who the devil is she anyway??
?She is de woman who helped save your daughters? lives. Oi couldn?t have done it without her. You owe her a great deal. The least you could do is listen to her. Most fathers in your position wouldn?t be able to wait to be reunited with loved ones they?d almost lost.?
?Which is why I want them back here. You know how busy my schedule is, Mary.?
Sam was tired and hurting and in no mood for the soft subtle approach. This man was really trying his patience.
?For God?s sake, man!? he blurted, ?What is more important to you? Your ?precious? meetings or your daughters ? who are the most precious, rare and valuable treasures (the words came back to him suddenly and he threw them back at their author) a man could ever have. It?s about time you got your priorities right, Mr. Strickland. Would you even have found time to attend their funerals had they died? There?s an old adage you?d do well t? heed ? ?Time may be money, yet the best thing parents can spend on their children is not money, but time?.?
?Here, here,? chorused Connie and Al together.
The girls just stood open mouthed.
Nanny had never spoken to their father like that before. And whilst they?d never thought of themselves as being neglected, the prospect of Daddy putting time with them ahead of dreary old meetings was as delightful as it was unlikely. Emboldened by Nanny?s forthright comments, they chirruped:
?Oh do say you?ll come, Daddy. Please say you?ll come.?
 
Run For Their Lives - Chapter 15 cont

There was an interminably long silence from the other end of the phone, so that the gathering began to suspect the connection to London had been lost, and were forced to let out a collectively held breath. Then, when it seemed their pleas would never be answered, whether positively or even negatively, they heard a distant muttering.
Straining his ears, Sam could just make out the distinctive tone of the ever-efficient Otis as he attempted to shuffle the itinerary to allow for a detour. Still Strickland hedged and wavered; yet Sam could sense he was succumbing to the temptation of playing hooky for a few hours. The comment about funerals seemed to have struck a nerve. Sam decided to push his luck still further:
?You know, sir,? he ventured, ?Otis knows dis stuff inside out. Oi?m sure he has every last detail worked out to the decimal point. Oi?d be willing to bet a year?s wages he could take over all dose meetings wit? one hand tied behind his back.?
?Assuming you still have a wage to bet.? Cut in Al with a look that advised caution. Sam had got into trouble with a similar wager as a butler/manservant once. Sam ignored him.
Fifty miles south, a mere heartbeat away, Otis enthusiastically concurred with Mary?s assessment of his capabilities. Stressing that he meant no offence, and didn?t intend to imply that his employer was in any way superfluous, he assured Mr. Strickland that he could confidently guarantee to seal negotiations with no loss of bargaining power suffered by the physical absence of the Head of the Company. He was virtually pleading for a chance to be put on his mettle, to prove he could do so much more than mere paperwork and preparation.
Between them, they kept on wearing him down, little by little, chipping away at his objections until at last he conceded:
?All right, all right. Otis can handle the ten a.m. and the two o?clock meetings. We?ll come up in the limo first thing and he can drive the BMW back. That way I can give him a thorough briefing en route. But I have to be back for the dinner engagement tomorrow evening ? that one meal could be worth mega bucks. And if there are any problems, anything at all, you?re to call me straight away. Is that clear??
Otis and Sam both agreed to his terms. No sense losing the concessions already won by holding out for more at this stage. Sam figured if he played it right, the question of Lyle rushing back alone would take care of itself. One step at a time ? slow and sure wins the race.
The sisters whooped with delight at the news, and gladly accepted the condition that they go straight to bed now, though they knew they?d be too excited to sleep.
Otis promised to organize a change of clothes for them all and other necessities, which he would bring with him, and then in hushed tones thanked Mary for her support, which was as welcome as it was unexpected.
Sam replied that he was more than welcome, and they hung up.
Then, fragile as he was, Sam prepared to resume his responsibilities:
?Come on, you two, you heard what ya Da said ? time for bed. Oi t?ink you have a big day aheed of ya tomorra. Oi t?ink Oi?ll turn in meself.?
He gripped the arm of his chair and struggled feebly to his feet, though giddiness threatened to prevent him from maintaining the position. Ever attentive, Connie was instantly by his side to lend a supporting arm.
?Steady there, ducks,? she advised, ?If yer can?t make it up them apples, I can soon fix yer up a bed down ?ere.?
The staircase loomed over him like the summit of Everest, but the threat of being sent to hospital loomed even more forbiddingly, so he drew upon the last vestiges of what little strength remained him and hauled his weary butt across the floor to escort his charges to bed.
 
Run For Their Lives - Chapter 15 cont

?That?s it, dears,? encouraged the Cockney, ?Up the wooden ?ill to Bedfordshire. Once yer gets yer lumps o? lead on them weeping willers, you?ll be in the land o? nod afore yer knows it.?
Tori and Shelley-Anne exchanged bemused looks and giggled. ?Auntie Connie? was funny. They liked her ? even if they didn?t understand half she said.
At the top of the stairs, they turned right and went to the room already allocated to them. Connie led Sam to a large bedroom on the left, which contained twin beds, made up with blue and white floral covers. She lowered him onto the nearest and exhorted him to ?settle yerself down while I goes and reads the little ?uns a bedtime story.? Then, shrugging aside his thanks, she left him alone. Alone that is apart from his invisible friend.
Sam quizzed him instantly, his tone snide and accusing:
?Why?d you change your suit, Al? Blood on your shirt, by any chance? Cut yourself shaving??
Al?s eyes widened, then he quickly looked away, remembering how Beeks had used the same phrase. But what would make Sam say such a thing? And what was he so angry about?
?I didn?t desert you for a hot date, if that?s what you think. I would have been there to watch your back, kid, honest. Only I was unavoidably detained. (That much was pure truth.) We had a slight technical hitch, but it?s all sorted out now.? He?d trotted out these lame excuses a hundred times. Lied to Sam about the problems back home to protect his pal from hurtful or alarming truths. Most times, he enjoyed the game ? seeing what he could come up with next and how gullibly Sam swallowed it all, hook line and slide-rule. He loved the challenge of inventing new excuses and blaming Sam?s Swiss-cheese brain for failing to understand things he?d just made up. Tonight was different. Tonight he?d have liked nothing better than to talk over the recent harrowing events with his closest friend ? to be comforted by him instead of being the one to comfort and support. To have Sam?s wisdom and insight lend some measure of understanding to the madness.
To have Sam reassure him that there was nothing more or different he could have done, that he was not to blame for the tragic outcome. But, as usual, he had to bear the burden alone.
Al was not as convincing a liar as he?d like to believe. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other and avoided making eye contact with Sam. It was partly guilt at letting Sam get hurt again, but there was more to it than that.
Sam indicated his injured arm, clutched tightly to his chest beneath the nightgown.
?Oi doubt there was anyt?ing you could?ve done to prevent this, so don?t sweat it, Al.? he exonerated his pal, sweating enough for the pair of them as his pain induced fever raged on. Though in truth they would never know how differently things may have turned out with an extra pair of eyes on alert.
This time, Sam knew Al really did have a good excuse for his absence. But he wanted to hear it. And he knew Al well enough to know he wasn?t going to be told. Not without probing. He was tired of being shut out of Project life ? and death. Right now he hated being excluded, even if Al did believe he was protecting the time traveler. It made him feel even more isolated and alone. Besides, he had to know for certain that his vision had been real, for if not, perhaps it was a portent of the future ? Al?s future, and could yet be prevented.
?Al, Oi need to know what kept you ? no, listen,? Al had been about to jump in with more denials and excuses, ?Oi need to know what really happened.? He looked right through Al, willing him to bare his soul as he suspected his friend needed to.
?I don?t understand. What do you mean? Like I told you?? prevaricated Al. He was really squirming now, looking quizzically at Sam. What could his friend possibly suspect?
?It was just the usual stuff,? he assured unconvincingly, ?You know how temperamental Ziggy can be.? He shrugged his shoulders dismissively, as if that explained everything.
Sam raised himself up on his pillows with difficulty and a grimace, and then glowered indignantly at Al.
?Its no use pretending, Al. OI know somet?ing went wrong. Oi saw it. Oi saw??
 
Run For Their Lives - Chapter 15 cont

He couldn?t say it. He swallowed convulsively. Sam closed his eyes to blot out the image that swam before his face again, almost as vividly as before. He shuddered.
Al?s shocked expression added years to his countenance.
?You what?! How could?? What did you?? I mean?? he stuttered, unable to put his racing thoughts into coherent words.
Sam sighed, and drew his left hand horizontally down across his face, pausing to clasp his palm over his mouth for a long moment as if he feared he would scream the house down if he removed it. Finally, he let it drop and said in a barely audible whisper:
?It is true, isn?t it? There was no ?technical hitch?. It wasGushie. My God, and you weren?t even going to tell me!? He rounded on Al now, his shock turning to anger. And in the depth of his emotion, much of Mary?s influence took a back seat, the accent fading to allow the real Sam to come through.
?You weren?t going to say a single word, were you? A ?slight technical hitch??
A ?slight technical hitch?!?? Is that how you describe the death of a colleague? The murder of a friend? How could you, Al? I know you and Gushie had your differences, but I never though you capable of such callousness.?
Al was at a loss. How could his time-trapped friend have possibly found out about what had happened in the Control Room? How could he explain? He rubbed his temples and paced the floor.
?It wasn?t meant to be callous, buddy.? He said at last. ?It?s just that I can?t always tell you??
Sam broke in, struggling to keep his voice low.
?I thought after all this time we?d gotten beyond the stage of secrets, Al. On a ?need to know basis? ? I really need to know, okay? What?s going on back there? How many more ?little hitches? have you kept from me??
For a split second, Al thought of retorting with a flippant answer: ?Nine hundred and fifty seven? or some such ridiculous number. Instead, he looked away, frustrated and hurt and weighted down by the secrets he must keep.
?There?d be no point in telling you any of it, Sam. It doesn?t matter??
?Doesn?t matter!? Sam exploded, then remembered the need to keep his one sided conversation private. It was just one more injustice that Al could rant and rave while Sam had to curtail his outrage for fear of being overheard.
?Doesn?t matter!? he repeated, sotto voce, ?how can you say Gushie?s death doesn?t matter? What?s gotten into you, Al? I just don?t understand this side of you.?
?Calm down, Sam, and let me try to explain.? Coaxed Al, seeing how his friend?s ashen face was now flushing with color as he fought to keep his anger under control. This was the last thing Sam needed right now. He looked so fragile, as if a harsh word could snap him in two. Sam opened his mouth, about to rail at Al again. Al held up his hand:
?Please, just hear me out, okay??
Reluctantly, grudgingly, Sam closed his mouth and nodded.
?When I say it doesn?t matter, of course I don?t mean that Gushie isn?t ? wasn?t important. Its just ? how can I put it?? he paused, head on one side as he pondered. ?Well,? he resumed at last, ?we?ve discussed before how your changing things here in the past sometimes directly changes our future, right? Domino effect, remember??
Sam frowned thoughtfully, then his eyes widened:
?Like when I helped Diane McBride pass her Bar?? muttered Sam, the glimmer of a memory stirring in him.
?And she in turn helped the Project get more funding.? Finished Al, prompting Sam to apply this particular to the Universal concept. He wasn?t yet ripe for it, though.
?So?? Sam queried, in a tone which implied, ?So what??
 
Run For Their Lives - Chapter 15 cont

?So the future, my present, whatever, is in a state of flux. What you do on one Leap may result in ? say ? a change in staffing for us.? He didn?t specify Sammy-Jo ? he didn?t want to complicate the issue with that particular set of memories. ?The next may cause? some other change.? He finished lamely - suddenly wary of giving specifics. He couldn?t let Sam know that in many of his futures Dr Elysee aka Mrs. Donna Beckett cried herself to sleep in their room, whilst in others he was still the bachelor he believed himself to be.
Sam was tired, Sam was aching both physically and emotionally. Sam had too much of a headache to cope with riddles and cryptic conversations.
?What?s your point, Al? Or are you just trying to confuse me so I?ll forget that??
?No, Sam,? Al waved his hand in denial. He looked straight as Sam now, his eyes full of compassion and sorrow and regret. He suddenly appeared to Sam to be very, very old.
?I?m the only one who remembers it all, Sam. You know that, don?t you??
He sounded weary, care-worn and profoundly sad.
?Everyone else only recalls the latest version of events, but me and Ziggy, we can trace every change. Every past is as real as every other. It?s hard sometimes?? he trailed off. Al looked as if he might break down and cry, but Sam knew his strict Naval training and the self-discipline that had kept him alive in captivity would not allow him that release.
Sam softened.
He tended to forget, as his Swiss-cheesed brain forgot so much, that his burden placed a tremendous strain on his friend as well, being there for him, at his beck and call ? twenty-four-seven.
?I?m sorry, Al. I didn?t mean??
?I know buddy.? Al dismissed his sympathy, which was more than he could bear. ?I?m simply saying that there?s no point in bothering you and burdening you with major downers like Gushie, cos three or four Leaps down the line, it might never have happened, see??
?I guess so.? Sam didn?t sound entirely convinced but he was prepared to accept the premise at face value for now. Then he drew his breath in sharply as a horrendous thought struck him.
?You?re not suggesting Gushie?s death was a result of something I changed by Leaping, are you??
?No, no, no of course not.? Al hastened to reassure his friend. He would have denied it anyway, naturally. Sam didn?t need that sort of guilt trip to cope with on top of everything else. But he was glad that he could knock that particular idea on the head with complete honesty.
Sam then insisted on hearing every detail of the circumstances surrounding Gushie?s tragic demise. Al told him as much as he knew, asking in turn how on earth Sam had come to be aware of it.
When both men had related their side of events, it began to make a certain sort of sense.
?I saw Gushie?s blood ? everywhere.? Sam mumbled morosely, still appalled by the clarity of the vision. ?It must have been because it seeped into Ziggy?s mainframe. I guess somehow his DNA was carried into the matrix, mingled with our brain wave patterns in the circuitry and created a link.?
Which, thinking about it, he realized also accounted for the intensity and persistence of the image, since ? like Al?s hologram ? it had become tuned to his optic and otic nerves. Had Gushie had a chance to scream, he?d have heard that too, a blood-curdling cry down the ages.
Unnoticed in Al?s hand, Ziggy?s com link winked in confirmation of her father?s assessment, and whether by bizarre coincidence or the influence of some supernatural force, the lights formed the shape of the Star of David.
 
Run For Their Lives - Chapter 16

Chapter sixteen

QLHQ​


Corporal Ralph ?Rusty? Kincaid surfaced slowly from the stupefaction of sedation to find himself under armed guard in the Project infirmary. He was more than a little confused. The medical ward he could believe ? he?d been feeling grotty for what felt like weeks, though it was probably only days. And if truth were known, he still felt decidedly under the weather. It was all such a blur that he couldn?t really tell exactly what was wrong with him; it was just a general malaise. On the one hand, he was sure he hadn?t been sleeping ? yet at the same time he remembered snatches of the strangest, most terrifying nightmares. Nightmares full of daemons - and more blood than he?d have believed possible. But they were only nightmares. They had to be.
Such creatures did not exist in the real world.
So why on earth were there two armed guards in his room? Were they protecting those outside from him ? or him from some unknown peril outside? He was not sure which option he would prefer, nor which was the more credible. He could not believe he would have done anything to deserve arrest, yet neither was it likely he?d be important enough to anybody to warrant protection of this magnitude.
Even if he had saved the whole darn project from that bomb.
The bomb!
How could he have forgotten about that?
The shock of remembering caused him to sit upright in the bed ? an action that in turn caused the two guards by his door to raise their rifles and take a step forward, bracing themselves for any eventuality. That, and the way the room bucked and rolled, was enough to convince him to lie down again.
Well, at least it solved one riddle.
He was evidently Public (or at least Project) Enemy Number One.
Why was still a mystery - yet he was disinclined to question his captors. They looked as if he made them nervous, and he didn?t want to alarm them in case they did anything he might regret.
Like blow his brains out.
He decided his best move would be to go back to sleep. If he was real lucky, he?d wake up to find this whole episode was just another of the nightmares, and he was alone in his own room.
 
Run For Their Lives - Chapter 16 cont

Bedford
Friday​


After Al had finally gone, Sam settled down for some much needed sleep.
Considering the blood loss, and the physical and emotional trauma, he assumed that sleep would overwhelm him in an instant, but instead it proved most elusive. He tossed and turned, haunted still by visions of Gushie and the grizzly tableau of the charred kidnappers.
Some time after midnight, he gave up on all attempts at sleep, and gave in to the emotions that weighed him down. He found himself weeping aloud for the loss of a close friend and colleague whom he was struggling to remember.
He fought forlornly to recapture a memory of Gushie from happier times that would banish the after image of his slaughter, which burned into Sam?s eyelids whenever he closed his eyes. He wept for Gushie, and he wept for himself ? cut off from home and family and friends without the comfort of mental memorabilia to sustain him.
The soft sobbing sounds brought his hostess into his room, bearing a box of tissues. She perched on the bed and offered him one.
?There, there dearie,? she soothed, patting ?Mary?s? hand, ?don?t take on so. It?s all over now. I s?pect yer arm is giving ya gip, ain?t it? Y?know wot they sez about no good deed going unpunished!?
Sam sniffed and blinked back a stray tear. Then he blew his nose before answering.
?Matter o? fact, me shoulder feels loike it?s on fire, so it does,? he conceded, rubbing his collarbone, as Mary?s accent reasserted itself, ?but dat?s not why Oi was crying. Oi?m sorry if?n Oi woke you, Oi was just being a foolish old woman.?
He didn?t elaborate.
He couldn?t even begin to explain the causes of his distress. He could only pray she wouldn?t probe too deep. He decided his best option was to take up her cue and play on her ministering angel tendencies. He just hoped he could do so without risking hospitalization.
?Oi don?t want to be a nuisance, but could?? he didn?t need to continue.
Once again the Cockney made up for her lack of medical expertise with an ample dose of common sense.
?One ice-pack, comin? right up. An? while I?m at it, I reckon you oughta ?ave sommat to drink ? replace them lost fluids, eh??
?Just what the doctor ordered,? agreed Sam. Settling back on his pillows to await her return, he realized that he was desperately thirsty. What had he been thinking? He should have anticipated dehydration, particularly with the fever that still coursed his veins. His diversionary tactic was no more than genuine need after all. Had she not come in when she did, he would most likely have skipped right past the hospital bed and gone directly to the pine box. He gulped at the idea of two excited children running in to wake Nanny in the morning, only to find she had died in her sleep.
Heavy lids drooped over stinging eyes, black velvet curtains descending at the end of the play. Yet now he fought the weariness that overwhelmed him.
He needed sleep desperately, but his need for fluids was far greater. He could hear Connie bustling about in her kitchen and knew she hadn?t been long, but still it felt an eternity. His thoughts rambled ? eternity versus mortality: his own and Gushie?s.
He rubbed his eyes.
It was pure fancy, of course, borne of morbid musings and febrile imaginings, but he could almost swear he could see Gushie standing beside his bed.
Not a blood splattered specter, but an ordinary figure in a clean white lab-coat. Ordinary, yet unsubstantial ? like a badly tuned hologram. The phantasm seemed to be trying to tell him something.
?Gushie?? he breathed, certain he would banish the apparition with his challenge. That sweet reason would outweigh delirium.
Yet far from vanishing, the ethereal form spoke to him.
?Do not grieve for me, Sam,? it said smiling and making a sweeping gesture with one hand that seemed to say ?Look at me, I?m fine.?
Nevertheless, Sam felt a trickle of lachrymal liquid trace a track down his cheek.
?I shall always be with you, a part of you ? and the Project? assured Gushie. Sam opened his mouth, but his voice was in another time frame.
The shade bowed its head, as if in apology.
?I thought I had the answer, Dr Beckett. I thought I could retrieve you, but part of the equation was missing. We were asking the wrong question. I understand now, Sam. I understand it all so clearly now. Don?t lose faith. You will get home one day, when the Time is right. You just have to believe, and God?s grace will lead you Home.?
So saying, Gushie faded away, leaving Sam staring after him, numb with shock, a hundred questions frozen on his tongue.
Moments later, he was startled to find the same space occupied by Connie, who placed a tray on his bedside table. She looked at him in alarm, noticing the increased pallor, the vacant expression, and the sweat-stained brow. ?This woman really should be in a hospital,? she thought, but hadn?t the heart to drag her from her bed. So instead she applied the ice pack and handed him a glass containing a cloudy beverage, rather than the tonic water he?d been expecting.
?Git this down yer, luv,? she ordered, ?It tastes foul, but I got some orange juice ?ere as a chaser. It?s meant for dickey tummies by rights, but I figured it?d likely ?elp you wiv yer condition too.?
Sam?s nose wrinkled as he sipped it, but he persevered.
?Electrolytes,? he mumbled approvingly, noting the salty taste. He managed a wry grin. ?Pure elixir.?
His savior never ceased to amaze him and he told her so with renewed thanks. She waved his gratitude aside with a ?glad to ?elp? and fussed around fluffing his pillows and neatening his covers. When he?d half emptied his glass he sighed and leant back in defeat. The effort was exhausting. She took it from him and put it on the tray, but admonished:
?You ?as t? finish it wivin the ahr or it goes orf. There?s a big jug o? orange there if you needs it in the night, but if yer wants any more of the jollop just gi?us a shout an? I?ll be ?appy t? make some up. Yer can ?ave a batch every four ?ahrs. I gots plenty an? you ain?t t? feel a burden fer askin?, you ?ear? If I finds aht in the mornin? that you ?didn?t wanna bovver me? I?ll ?ave yer guts fer garters an? yer legs fer broomsticks, an?no mistake. ?Ave yer got that??
She looked sternly at her patient until she elicited a meek ?Yes, ma?am? whereupon she smiled indulgently and passed him back the glass.
?Bottoms up! Drink it all up, there?s a good girl.?
Too tired to argue, Sam did as he was bid. He soon presented her with an empty glass, and looked up child-like for her approval, which she freely gave.
 
Run For Their Lives - Chapter 16 cont

Next thing Sam knew, he awoke feeling stiff and sore and wrung out.
It was dark outside his window, so he figured he had slept a couple of hours. He was not a little surprised therefore, when Connie bustled in, beaming broadly to find him fully awake and sipping orange juice.
?Well if it ain?t our own Sleeping Beauty, back wiv us at last.? She chirped. A glance at the clock on his bedside table told him it was 6:30.
?Oi slept the night?? he queried incredulously.
?All night and all day dearie,? she responded. ?It?s Friday evening. I?m surprised yer prop?ly awake even now. After all, Sleeping Beauty only pricked ?er finger, an? she slept a ?undred years. That ?orrible woman tried to turn you into the ?ole pincushion, so I reckons you done well to be stirring yer stumps so soon. I bin rousing yer to drink every couple o? ahrs, but you ain?t really bin wiv it. Feverish, yer woz, mumbling all sortsa strange fings, but yer seems to ?ave cooled dahn now. I changed yer dressin? agin a while back, an? it seems t? be ?ealing nicely. Wiv a little bit a luck, yer might even gets away wivaht a scar.?
Sam?s mouth opened and closed like a fresh-caught fish as he struggled to comprehend all he?d been told, and express his gratitude for the dedication of his personal Florence Nightingale.
??Tweren?t nuffink luv.? She smiled, with a self-deprecating shrug. ?I were glad t? ?elp.?
With a pang of guilt, Sam thought of the girls and their father, of his intention to win the businessman over to a more hands-on paternal role. He cursed his lassitude, but as so often of late, the chirpy Cockney was there to exonerate him.
?Don?t be so ?ard on yerself. Yer knows wot they say abaht the spirit bein? willin? but the flesh weak. Besides, everyfinks goin? t? plan. They all spent the day at Windsor Safari Park, an? they ?ad a great time by all accahnts. The little ?un, Tori keeps talking abaht being glad the llamas weren?t bears, wotever that means. You must ?ave some strange critters in Americky.?
Sam smiled, remembering Tori?s reaction to the animals on the screen.
?Has Mr. Strickland left for London yet?? he wanted to know.
?No, ?e ain?t,? pronounced Connie emphatically, ?An? if I ?ave anyfink t? do wiv it, ?e won?t be, neiver. I?ll go fetch ?im an? between us ?e won?t ?ave a leg t? stand on, will ?e??
Without waiting for a reply, she scuttled out.
An hour or so later, it was all settled. They were not even sure themselves how they had managed it, but Lyle would be staying the whole weekend and devoting the entire time to his daughters.
?It may not be no four-star ?otel, but me ?umble ?ome is at yer disposal.? Connie informed him. Sam thought he?d been in four-star hotels where he?d felt much less welcome, and certainly less pampered. He persuaded Lyle to sample some ?traditional British hospitality?, though he may not have been quite so quick to insist had he realized it meant Connie giving Lyle her own room, while she would ?bunk in ?ere wiv Mary.? He blushed at the prospect, but decided it was a small price to pay when weighed against the benefit to the girls of having Dad so close. In any case, things were looking so well under control that he?d like as not have Leapt out by bedtime.

As it happened he had not.
 
Run For Their Lives - Chapter 16 cont

Saturday afternoon found him downstairs for the first time, still weak but obviously much improved by virtue of Mrs. Blackman?s ministrations.
Lyle Strickland and his daughters were just returning from a trip to Cambridge, where they?d mixed sightseeing ? incorporating places where the Dr Who episode ?Shada? took place ? with some serious shopping. They staggered into the room under the weight of countless bags and boxes, including lavish presents for both Mary and their hostess, who received them with much embarrassed denial of having merited such spoiling. The girls were chattering and giggling with barely a pause for breath. Lyle was still somewhat detached ? uncomfortable with the unfamiliar territory ? but he was making an effort, Sam had to give him credit for that. He hadn?t bolted for London and the security of the boardroom. He was genuinely trying to rediscover the joys of parenthood.
That morning, he?d dropped in on ?Mary? and started to open up about his fears and the emotional scars left by the loss of his wife. Admitting to such feelings was the first and most important step in dealing with them, Sam had reassured him. At least he wasn?t bottling them up, and shutting the girls out any more.
With each report of Otis? success, Strickland was accepting that part of good leadership is delegation, and consequently he was beginning to relax his stranglehold on all matters relating to the business. He was spending all his time with his children. All that remained now was to get him to start enjoying it.
Up to now, Sam pointed out, Strickland had been so busy fearing all the bad things that could happen, and detaching himself as a means of self-preservation, that he left no room to appreciate the good things that were happening. Sam had made him realize that he really didn?t know his daughters at all. He had claimed to know them, of course, but Sam caught him out by asking:
?Okay den ? what is Tori?s favorite color? Shelley-Anne?s favorite song?? naturally, Lyle hadn?t a clue. Had not even appreciated that he had a talented gymnast and a budding pianist in the family. He?d paid for the lessons, but never taken the time to observe the results. Now he was having to listen, to learn, to discover who they were, what made them tick. Beyond that, Sam was also working towards getting Lyle to share their mother with them. To allow the memories to surface ? good times as well as bad. To let them grieve together, and grow closer still through the bond of her love, which would live on in their hearts. To realize that he could let them into his heart without having to push his wife out. To appreciate that they could be a source of comfort rather than a painful reminder.
 
Run For Their Lives - Chapter 16 cont

QLHQ​


Back in the Waiting Room, Mary was lending a similarly sympathetic ear to Al. She talked with him about the recent loss of Gushie, about the older but deeper wound of Beth?s desertion. About things that Al had never confessed to feeling: not to himself, much less to Beeks.
They talked for hours and hours ? and the longer they talked, the more Al knew he was going to miss Mary when Sam leaped. He couldn?t remember a time when he?d spent so long with a woman without ending up in bed with her. In fact, he couldn?t remember spending so long with a woman he wasn?t interested in bedding. Not since Dr Ruth - and that had been a completely different ball game, despite their similar intent. Yet he was relishing every moment with this wise Irish woman, even though some of it was harrowing in the extreme. Somehow - with all due respect to Verbena Beeks ? during his sessions with her he felt it was just ?therapy? and he could do without it, thank you very much. Yet talking to Mary was therapeutic without seeming to be. He could open up to her in a way he couldn?t with anybody else ? not even Sam. Perhaps it was because she would be gone soon and would remember none of it. He wouldn?t have to face her day after day, knowing she knew the deepest darkest secrets of his soul. So he unburdened himself, as he never thought he could or would. And it felt good.

Verbena Beeks was well aware that Mary was deputizing for her, and she wholeheartedly approved. Ever since Sam had first Leaped, she?d been trying to get Al to avail himself of her professional expertise. He consistently declined and not always in the politest of terms. He only rarely took to her couch other than for his annual review, and then only after much procrastination. So ?Bena was not at all put out that someone else was doing her job for her. She was just grateful that Al had finally found someone he felt comfortable with and could confide in. Besides which, she had her hands full with Rusty.
Traumatized was not the word for Corporal Kincaid. He went way beyond that.
Once he?d gotten the mercury purged from his system, the old Rusty had surfaced again, at first only troubled by a loss of memory of recent events.
That they could deal with.
If only it had stayed that way.
Unfortunately it was not to be, and gradually Rusty became aware of the full horror he had unwittingly perpetrated. Knowing his crimes had been committed ?under the influence? as it were did nothing to assuage his feelings of guilt and self-loathing. Even the knowledge that by some miracle Gushie had turned out to be the only fatality did not help. At least two employees would spend the rest of their lives on invalidity benefit, and several others would carry both physical and emotional scars for as long as they lived and it was all because of him.
After three intensive sessions, Verbena was no closer to reaching him than she had been when she started. Indeed, as she emerged from this latest session, she was very, very afraid that Rusty was on the verge of becoming suicidal. She cautioned the guards by his door, and the nurse on duty, to be extra vigilant ? not for a repeat of Rusty?s hostile behavior for she was convinced that all such tendencies had evaporated with the last traces of mercury from his bloodstream ? but rather for any signs of an attempt to inflict harm upon himself.
He was still refusing to see Patti too, which made her Dr Beeks next port of call.
It was not every day (Thank the Lord) that a girl found out her loving; caring fianc? was an axe-wielding murderer.
She had not taken it very well.
Yet after the initial shock had worn off and they had explained that he had been suffering a form of mental illness over which he had little or no control ? much as she had suspected ? she had wanted to stand by him, no matter what the consequences proved to be.
His seeming rejection of her support was harder for her to cope with than the knowledge of what he had been capable of.
?Bena sighed wearily and wished she could enlist Mary?s help on a more permanent basis. She may be untrained, but she was a very good listener, and her common-sense advice and kind words were every bit as effective as the trite phrases and stock solutions Dr Beeks found herself trotting out all too often of late. She regularly felt that there was not enough of her to go around this curious community, with its intrinsically peculiar set of problems.
?In fact? she thought to herself as she knocked on Patti?s door, ?I wouldn?t mind a session with Mary myself before she leaves, but I don?t suppose I shall be able to make the time.? With a rueful shake of her head, she squared her shoulders and marched in to her next house call.
 
Run For Their Lives - Chapter 16 cont

Bedford​

In anticipation of Sam?s sure to be imminent departure, Al dropped in to check on his friend. He was once more dressed in outrageous splendor. Though finer in texture, his suit was the color of a green baize card table, in perfect counterpoint to the waistcoat, which was scattered liberally with playing cards arranged in winning poker hands, interspersed with piles of casino chips. His cufflinks were a pair of dice. In stark contrast to his last appearance, he was grinning broadly and looking thoroughly relaxed. More so than Sam had seen him in a very long time.
?Whatever you?re on, Oi?ll have two!? Sam told him with a smile. He was sitting in the easy chair once more, with a tray table over his lap. Connie, Lyle and the girls were sitting round the dining table. All had plates piled high with spaghetti Bolognese. The children were giggling as they struggled to suck up wriggling worms of pasta. Their father was not yet relaxed enough to join in, but at least he was not scolding or disapproving. Connie was demonstrating how to manipulate the slippery substance with a twist of the fork. Sam?s portion she had thoughtfully cut into short strips, enabling him to eat one-handed with a soup spoon as he watched the girls? efforts with indulgent amusement. Al, of course, called him a cheat and a traitor, and offered his own advice as to how it should be done with true Italian flair ? advice that naturally fell on deaf ears. Sam chided him for not bringing more useful information, which led Al to wipe the smile from his face, almost literally. He?d been certain that Sam had only been hanging around in ?88 in order to give him a chance to spend time with Mary. He could think of no reason for his friend to stick around any longer.
Unless of course the incident with Gushie had done more to Ziggy than they?d realized and Sam couldn?t Leap. Which would mean he?d be stuck as Mary McGillicuddy for the rest of their lives. It didn?t bear thinking about. Much as Al liked having Mary around at the Project, he wouldn?t want to have her replace Sam permanently. And the idea of Sam spending the rest of his days as a Nanny ? and the rest of his nights in Victorian nightgowns ? was too awful to contemplate. He started pushing panic buttons; Ziggy squealed in protest and Al shook the handlink before giving it a hefty whack on the side.
Al began pacing the floor, muttering to himself and cursing the computer in his frustration.
Sam knew better than to question him at this stage. It was a waste of energy and just increased his own feelings of helplessness and annoyance. He may as well just sit back and ride it out, and hope that by the end of the mime Al would have wrung something useful out of the computer. Sam turned his attention to his more solid roommates.
By this time they had finished eating and Connie had cleared away, leaving Sam to complete his meal at his own more leisurely pace. Moving to more comfortable positions on the sofa and easy chairs, the group had settled down in front of Connie?s TV, where they had just managed to catch the opening credits of an episode of Knight Rider.
Connie expressed her approval of David Hasslehoff ? ??e?s a bit tasty?if I woz a few years younger?? whilst Lyle decided the car could be a real boon to business ? ?Save a fortune in chauffeur?s wages??
What Sam noticed was that Lyle was sandwiched between his daughters and had slipped an arm around each of their shoulders, without even really being aware of it. For the first time, they looked every inch an ordinary loving family, and it warmed his heart. Perhaps it was almost time to Leap.
Al soon shattered that illusion. He finally got an answer of sorts from Ziggy, but as usual it was not much help.
?Ziggy is now saying there?s something else you gotta do, Sam. Only no suggestions as to what, I?m afraid. Just that the odds are 89.4 percent if you don?t do it, they?re all gonna die before Christmas, all four - including Mary.?
Sam turned back to him, his face visibly draining of what color he?d regained. He?d saved the girls once. Things were going so well. What on earth could this new crisis be?
?Ziggy must have some idea what it is,? he pleaded, ?What?s the new History??
Fortunately, the rest of the group was too engrossed in the adventures of Michael Knight to notice Mary talking to herself.
In a moment of near despair, Michael was remembering how Devon kept telling him: ?One man can make a difference.?
Al shot the Leaper a telling look, and then gave his full attention back to their secret conversation.
?That?s just it,? he replied, prodding the handlink mercilessly, ?Ziggy won?t say. I?m sure she knows ? something ? but the useless pile of fairy lights won?t cough up a single clue.?
Each word was punctuated by a new jab at the assorted buttons on the com-link, but to no avail.
?She just keeps harping on about wider implications and ripples in the time frame turning into tidal waves. I think she?s way overdue for brain surgery, if you know what I mean.? Al made a gesture suggesting there were a few circuits he?d personally like to rip out.
?I know you had to give the darned thing an ego for it to work the way you wanted, Sam,? Al went on to accuse, ?but did you have to make it one as big as all outdoors? Sometimes that smug, self-satisfied ?I know it all but I?m not telling? attitude can really get on a body?s nerves.?
Sam concurred.
His job was hard enough without having to stumble blindly round in the dark because his brainchild wouldn?t play ball. Especially when the stakes were so high.
?Can?t you sweet talk her into giving you a hint? Promise her some new chips or something? You?re always boasting you have such a way with the women.?
?Not this one,? complained Al, ?she?s not that easy to buy. Perhaps she needs a boyfriend.?
Sam was about to point out that despite their references, and the vocal range of ?her? audio output, Ziggy was actually asexual, and regardless of the ego, still a machine. But overhearing a sarcastic comment leveled at Michael by KITT, the in-car computer, led him to say instead:
?Oi t?ink Oi know just the fella for our Zig,? he pointed at the screen, ?She and KITT have a lot in common, not least their vastly inflated self-opinions. D?you t?ink you could fix them up on a blind date??
Sam?s attempt at humor did not fool Al for a moment. He knew his friend was being eaten up inside with worry. If only the problem was that easy to fix, he?d gladly have played matchmaker there and then.
Once in a while, it would be good to have a problem with an easy fix.
Right now, he could have done with Sam safely tucked up in whatever limbo he went to between Leaps.
Then he?d have time to sort out the mess back home.
Word would get to Weitzman soon about what had happened to Gushie, and to a lesser extent to the others. Heaven alone knew how he was going to talk his way around that one. It was not going to look good at next week?s funding review.
Then, of course, there was the question of finding a replacement for Gushie.
It was not the sort of opening you posted in the local rag.
And there was unlikely to be a queue of qualified personnel to choose from. Al had only ever met a handful of people who could do what Gushie did, and all of them were already on staff, covering the necessary 24/7 shifts. All except?
?Why not,? Al thought aloud, ?he?d be perfect??
?Huh?? countered Sam, who thought they were still talking about the Knight Industry Two Thousand, ?He?s fictional, isn?t he??
Al had long forgotten that strain of the conversation.
?Fictional? Who? Dav??? Al caught himself and coughed nervously. ?Gotta go, buddy. Something?s come up.? With which he bolted through his portal and vanished, leaving Sam more confused and concerned than ever.
 
Run For Their Lives - Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Martin Luther King Hospital
Los Angeles
Thursday 9th January
Early Morning​

The gamble had almost paid off.
David Beckett and the Donahues had sought sanctuary in a crowded bar, which they had reached without incident. At first, they had nursed their drinks and looked nervously over their shoulders every few seconds. As the evening wore on, however, they became more and more relaxed and chatted casually, eventually all but forgetting the terror that had led them there.
Consequently, when they finally emerged from the bar, both men were slightly the worse for beer and were swapping jokes while Caitlin ? who?d stuck to soft drinks, rummaged in her bag for the car keys. None of them noticed the figure lurking in the shadows across the street.
Suddenly, there was a split second of bright blinding light as if someone had taken a picture with a high-powered flash. Bill felt a sharp stinging in his side, and a pressure that forced him to take a step back. Then a burning sensation spread through his torso.
He gasped and doubled over.
Caitlin screamed.
David swore.
They all dove for cover, as did the half-dozen or so revelers who were also making their way home.
Surprisingly, no second shot was fired. Ruggiero ? for it must have been he ? seemed to have decided there were too many witnesses and so retreated.
Whilst David watched to make sure of this, Cat took a look at her husband?s wound. He was bleeding profusely and shaking. Cat was shaking herself, but she tried to stay outwardly calm as she tended the wound.
David wasn?t even trying to hide his shaking.
But though he was terrified, and feeling all the shock and guilt of realizing that the bullet Bill had taken had been meant for him, he was not allowing himself to be paralyzed by the fear. Nor would he let panic drive him to anything rash. He studied the scene from a safe vantage point between two vehicles, and only when he saw other bystanders breaking cover did he dare to move himself.
At which point he took charge, more decisively than he?d have thought himself capable of being. He helped Cat to get Bill in the back of their new family estate,
?I want to get Bill straight to hospital, rather than wait around for the paramedics to show,? he told her. Uneasy about remaining in case their assailant should return, he was also genuinely concerned that his friend should get treatment without delay. Cat concurred wholeheartedly.
David then took over tending his friend while Cat headed out in the direction of the hospital. Though the experience had sobered them up in a hurry, he wasn?t going to risk a DUI charge when they had Bill?s health to worry about.
Thus it was that a short time later they arrived at MLK.
 
Run For Their Lives - Chapter 17

While they were waiting for Bill to come out of surgery, David found himself once more making a statement to Captain Thomas Maxwell.
?I didn?t think they?d drag a Captain out of bed at this hour for a little thing like this.? He told the officer when he?d finished.
?I said I?d take a personal interest in your case, Mr. Beckett, and I meant it.? Maxwell assured him. ?I gotta tell ya, we may have gotten lucky. A couple of witnesses at the bar think they saw Ruggiero bolting after your friend got hit. Recognized him from the news. They got a partial index and a make on the car. My men are following it up now.?
?Small consolation if Bill dies.? Muttered David disconsolately.
?Well at least you brought him to the right place,? assured the policeman, ?Martin Luther King is absolutely the best hospital in all Southern California for treating gunshot wounds. Believe me, I know. I reckon your pal will be just fine.?
David wanted to believe him.
He wanted desperately for Maxwell to be right.
And after all, a cop should know these things, like he said.
He was not that easily convinced though. He needed to see for himself. He excused himself and went to find the doctor.
The news was cautiously optimistic. It was a serious wound ? the bullet had penetrated deep and punctured the appendix, which they had been forced to remove. Yet this was the twenty-first century, and techniques had improved enormously of late. There was little danger of infection, and the scarring would be minimal. Provided there were no complications (and in these days of lawsuits, every sensible doctor allowed for the possibility of unforeseen complications) Mr. Donahue could be expected to make a complete recovery.

Indeed, by the next afternoon, he was sitting up in bed receiving visitors. Cat and David sat either side of him, relieved to see a smile on his admittedly pale face.
?It was my own fault,? he asserted, ?I couldn?t make up my mind whether to zig or zag.? Bill was not renowned for his decisiveness; though in truth he had no time or warning to have done either.
Though his friend bore him no malice for it, David still felt guilty that their positions were not reversed. His newfound courage was faltering in the face of the reality that his companions could both have shared his intended fate.
?I?m a dangerous guy to be around right now. I had no right to put you two in that creep?s sights like that. Maybe I should make myself scarce ? lie low someplace for a while till the cops catch up with Ruggiero.?
?An excellent idea!? came a strange yet somehow familiar voice from the doorway, ?And I know just the place.?
 
Run For Their Lives - Chapter 17 cont

All three turned to stare at the intruder. He was a curious looking man, short and distinguished, with dark hair and mischievous brown eyes, and the most outrageous green suit.
Bill thought he was hallucinating and rubbed his eyes. Cat looked at him with curiosity and mild amusement.
David stared, open-mouthed.
He blinked, and then shook his head. After which he stood up and took a step toward the stranger, then took a couple of steps backwards.
?I-I-I know you, don?t I?? he whispered.
Suddenly he pictured a bare room.
A computer.
This man angry and threatening him, and then friendly ? playing endless poker games.
Yes ? poker games. The suit reminded him of that.
Who was he?
Somehow David knew that it had something to do with that nightmare time when all this had begun. He wasn?t entirely sure if this newcomer was friend or foe, but David Beckett was convinced that he held answers: perhaps to his present predicament as well as to his past perplexity. David was at once both eager and afraid to hear what he had to say.
The man looked surprised - though not displeased - to be recognized. He took a small step into the room, not wishing to alarm his quarry.
?I need to speak with you, Mr. Beckett,? he announced softly, ?For both our sakes, I need to talk to you now. Alone.?
Al twisted his watch on his wrist.
He hadn?t bothered to adjust it to local time.
He didn?t intend to stay in L.A. long. He had to get back in case Sam needed him in the Imaging Chamber. It was only an hour fast, after all. It would help him to keep ahead of himself. Make sure that he somehow persuaded David of the merits of an instant career change, and that they were on the flight back to Albuquerque that he?d already booked them both on, confident in the ultimate success of his mission.
Shortly thereafter the two men stood leaning on laundry carts in a storage room.
Al was used to such clandestine meetings ? David was not, and still did not entirely trust the Admiral, as he?d introduced himself.
David kept one hand on the doorknob, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. The gesture brought back unpleasant memories for Al, who had cause to wish that Sam?s and David?s paths, or rather lives, had never crossed on that Leap.
Al shrugged off the thought. He had more immediate worries.
?You?re right,? he told David, ?we have met before. Your memory of that meeting is probably Swiss-cheesed, and I?m sure you?re bursting with questions.?
?Swiss-cheesed?? cut in David, who of course had never heard the familiar phrase before.
 
Run For Their Lives - Chapter 17 cont

Al fiddled with his watch again. He hated being so far from base when Sam was mid-Leap. He normally only left HQ between Leaps, except in emergencies. This situation qualified, but he still wanted to get back ? pronto.
?Just listen, will ya kid?? he pleaded, ?I know I?m asking a lot but I promise if you?ll just trust me, I?ll be able to explain everything. Only not here and not now.?
?What do you want from me?? David was still wary, hand still twitching on the doorknob, but his curiosity was aroused. He also found that for some inexplicable reason, the more he looked at him, and listened to him, the more he did indeed trust this familiar looking stranger.
?I have a proposition which is of mutual benefit,? began Al, ?You need a place to hide from Guido Ruggiero, and a new position now you?ve broken up with the boss? daughter??
David had not even reached this conclusion himself as yet, but put like that, he supposed he would be unemployed in pretty short order. The fact that this little Italian was so au fait with his disaster of a life was alarming though.
?How d?you know so much about me?? David was instantly suspicious again ? was this guy working with Ruggiero?
?I can?t tell you that ? yet.? Al?s tone betrayed his annoyance at the constant interruptions, though he could well appreciate how strange this must seem to the other man. This was tougher than he?d anticipated, but he couldn?t risk revealing too much about the Project unless he was sure David was going to come on board.
?Please, let me continue.? He requested calmly.
David nodded his assent. Though he was not yet getting the answers he sought, the promise that they may soon be forthcoming was enough to keep him on the hook.
?We?re in here cos I?ve come to offer you both employment and a place to hide - the safest place on earth - inside a top-secret government-funded project. You?ll be well taken care of, and we?ll have the benefit of your considerable computer skills, which I can personally vouch, are up to the task. Only you have to decide here and now. Without knowing the ?what? or the ?where?. If you accept, there are several conditions, which you?ll understand once we reach your new live-in job. You must tell no one where you are going, or where you are when you get there ? not even your friends out there. We?ll arrange for you to keep in touch in a way that you can?t be traced, but you won?t get to see them very often I?m afraid. You must sign this contract, agreeing to be bound by its terms.?
He drew a small wad of papers from his inside jacket pocket. ?Most importantly, you must never discuss any aspect of the Project with anyone outside it. Oh and you must agree to be referred to by the nickname ?Gushie? whenever you are on duty. The rest is pretty standard stuff.?
He allowed the young man a few moments to peruse the documents.
?If you decline, I?ll leave now and you?ll never see me again. All I need is your word to keep all this,? he waved in the direction of the contract, ?between you and me and these four walls. This little episode will be just one more mystery in your life. You?ll have to take your chances with the terrible twin, I?m afraid; find your own hiding place. If, on the other hand, you agree, by tomorrow morning you?ll be safe, and what?s more, you?ll have your explanations. Everything you want to know ? the now and the then ? I promise. You?ll understand all of it.?
He labored the point, for he could see in David?s face the desperation, the bewilderment, and the need to comprehend. Sam?s Leap had caused far more traumatic repercussions than they had realized. This was a rare encounter with a previous Leapee. The marriage and divorce had not been in Ziggy?s Leap-end prediction, so maybe there was something there that had put a spanner in the works. Al hoped that all Leapees didn?t inherit the sort of problems this guy obviously had. He had to believe they didn?t, or Leaping would seem less of a benign undertaking than they had assumed it to be, and no way was Al ready to buy into that, despite Sam?s own doubts about his ?arrogance? on his last Leap. It wouldn?t make any sense. Nevertheless, he made up his mind to have Ziggy dig deeper into the ?futures? of those whose lives Sam had ?borrowed?, just to make sure.
Meanwhile, he turned his attention back to David Beckett. He glanced at his watch again, and held out a pen to his companion.
?Well, how about it? I?m afraid it?s make your mind up time, I need your answer.?
?Gushie??? queried David, eyebrows raised, this being the weirdest of the conditions he was being asked to accept. He looked at the Admiral?s face and supplied the response himself:
?I know, I know, you can?t tell me until we get there, wherever the hell ?there? is. Okay, ?beam me up, Scotty? ? I?m game.?
So saying, he scanned and then signed the contract on all the dotted lines and handed it and the pen back to his new employer, who smiled broadly and shook his hand, ?Welcome aboard, son.? He tucked the contract safely back in his pocket, and gave it a pat.
?If I don?t tell you where we?re going, you can?t let it slip, and your friends out there are safer if they don?t know. Say your goodbyes and we?ll pop back to your place for a few essentials. The rest of your stuff will be shipped on in a couple of days, including that handsome hot rod of yours. We have a flight to catch.? Al patted his pocket again, as if to reassure himself the tickets were still there. He didn?t want to wave them about for fear David would catch sight of the destination.
?You?ve thought of absolutely everything, haven?t you, Admiral Calavicci?? commented David, as he led the way back to Bill Donahue?s ward. His trusty friends, and with them his godson, were the only things he?d be sad to leave behind.
L.A. held nothing else for him now.
?I?d darn well better have,? muttered the Project Director under his breath, and then out loud told David, ?You can call me Al.?
 
Re: Run For Their Lives - Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Bedford
Sunday 4th December 1988

The unseasonably mild wet weather of the previous few days ended abruptly in a sharp overnight frost. The dawn broke murky with fog, but the faintest trace of a watery sun heralded the possibility of a brighter day to come.
The girls were both up and dressed bright and early, chasing each other round the house with a noisy pounding of excited feet and many squeals of delight.
The din woke Sam, who ? though naturally an early riser himself ? would not have been averse to a slightly longer sojourn in the land of dreams.
Except that he?d not enjoyed any dreams.
What little sleep his troubled mind had managed had been plagued with nightmares in which were projected a series of grisly scenarios to explain Ziggy?s predication of death, mingled with lingering visions of the deaths that he had recently witnessed, both up close and remotely.
Sam sighed and rose reluctantly.
His shoulder ached brutally, and his skull was not much better. He still had no clearer idea what new danger the family faced, so he?d decided his best course of action was to accompany them on their outings. That way he?d be on hand if anything untoward occurred.
Their itinerary had been decided the previous evening.
Emboldened by the progress Lyle had already made, Sam dared to suggest that the father share a story with his daughters at bedtime. The book being Shelley?s special edition of Masquerade , naturally, it having been tucked in among the clean clothes by an ever-efficient, think-of-everything Otis.
Lyle?s initial reaction had been anger that the forbidden tome had been smuggled into their luggage. Then a withdrawing, making Sam afraid he?d managed in one fell swoop to undo all the good they?d so far accomplished. Perhaps this was just too painful for him, too soon. Yet it was important for Lyle to understand that he should share happy memories of his wife with his children; that they had not been to blame for her loss any more than he had. Tori?s birth may have been the trigger, but she had not asked to be born, and could not be held accountable.
He needed to see that facing up to Rachel?s death was not a betrayal of her life; that it was a worse betrayal to lock her memory away and never talk about her ? as if she had never existed.
Once more, the indomitable team of Beckett/McGillicuddy and Blackman went into action, refuting every argument Strickland put forward for not complying with their suggestions. Once more he was helpless before the persistent partnership, and ultimately found himself not only agreeing to share the book with his children but to take them the next day to nearby Ampthill Park ? the site of the golden hare?s burial and subsequent discovery.
?It ain?t but 15 minutes drive from ?ere. You can?t come all this way an? not go an? see it.? Commented Connie, when Sam explained the significance of the book to her.
?Me dorter ?ad it,? she told them, ?Even recognized the sun as being modeled on the pub sign and the antique shop both of ?em in Ampthill ? but dismissed it as coincidence cos she reckoned as ?ow nuffink that famous would be fahnd round ?ere. Pity ? we could?a dun wiv the dosh. Ah, well, never mind, eh? There ain?t nuffink official there to mark the exact spot it woz dug up or anyfink, but yer can see the clues, and the cross, and there?s a great view.?
Thus it was that after a hearty breakfast, the tourists set off ? armed with stout walking shoes, camera and a picnic lunch basket packed brimful of wonderful things to eat by Connie ? for the short limo ride to the park. Connie politely declined to accompany them, on two counts.
Firstly, she didn?t want to intrude on a family outing (she included Mary as part of the family, as did the girls). She felt that this ?pilgrimage? should not be undertaken in the company of outsiders. Secondly: ?It?s a fair ol? climb up that ?ill, and I ain?t as young as I used ter was. It?s a bit much fer this ol? leg o? mine.?
She had three platinum screws in her lower left leg, a legacy from a severe break sustained in a cycling accident when just a newly wed. When the weather was bad, she told them, it ?don?t arf give me jip.?
She also cautioned Mary that it would be an arduous trek for someone in her state of health and she thought the old girl was ?pushin? ?erself a bit ?ard? to expect to be able to cope with it. Sam thanked her for her concern, but assured her he would manage, and that he ?wouldn?t miss it for anyt?ing.?
Though not looking forward to the exertion, he couldn?t afford to let the family out of his sight until he knew the source of the danger they faced and how to prevail against it.
To appease his nurse he told her that if the ?mountaineering? proved too much, he could always return to the limo and wait with the lunch.
He could, but there was no way he would be doing that.
 
Run For Their Lives - Chapter 18 cont

They didn?t go straight to the park; their driver took them first through the historic market town itself. Here, despite the mist, they saw the Old Sun pub and the other landmarks featured in Kit Williams? illustrations, which they carried with them like a route map. It was a curious sight - the long stretch limousine snaking its way through narrow, twisty country roads, and they attracted many a curious stare from the locals.
By the time they pulled into the car park by the football ground shortly after 10, the fog had lifted, leaving a brightening day. The frost was still crisp on the ground, a light dusting of icing sugar on the cake that was the hill before them.
Tori and Shelley-Anne tumbled out of the car and ran ahead whilst Sam and Lyle followed at a more leisurely pace.
They ascended the path just before the tennis courts.
Drawing level with the back fence, the children froze, and Sam immediately tensed in alarm. What danger lurked in this idyllic spot? He hastened to catch them up. They turned and put their fingers to their lips, then pointed into the woods.
Snakes? Surely there were no venomous snakes in England? Sam approached them with his heart in his mouth, and then stood protectively between them, ready to shield them from whatever danger lay concealed in the undergrowth.
He squinted ? what was that movement? Straining to focus, he finally made it out ? squirrels!
Half a dozen or more, scampering about up and down the tree trunks and across the woodland carpet ? cute fluffy tailed grey squirrels. As his anxiety melted away, he almost laughed aloud, but stopped himself for fear of scaring them away.
The sisters were watching them, transfixed. Sam marveled at their restraint. He would have expected excited chatter and giggles, followed by disappointment as the animals scurried into hiding. Yet the girls made not a murmur, until their father joined them. By which time they were bursting.
?Look, Daddy!? they whispered, almost in unison. ?Aren?t they lovely??
Sam thought he caught the man mutter ?vermin? under his breath, but aloud Lyle indulgently agreed with his offspring, for which Sam gave him credit.
All too soon the creatures vanished from sight one by one, until the watchers could see no trace of them. Shelley-Anne sought and was given permission to gather a few of the fallen chestnuts that the little hoarders had overlooked. Soon both children had the pockets of their tracksuits bulging like chipmunk?s cheeks, and would have prevailed upon Nanny to store still more in her handbag had she not ? uncharacteristically ? left it behind that morning.
They pressed on with their exploration of the park, shoes crunching on the crisp carpet beneath their feet as they made their way up the incline to a wooden fence, interrupted by a simple cross-beamed stile.
The youngest members of the party bounded over it with barely a slowing of pace. In tweed skirt and sling, Sam was not sure he could traverse it at all, until the new and improved Lyle finally put out a steadying hand to help him.
With woodland to their left, they followed the path that led them uphill to the right, across a wide-open plain toward another wooded area. They presumed Catherine?s cross would lie beyond, at a summit hidden by the trees, which ? being a mix of deciduous and evergreen still bore sufficient foliage to obscure their view. The going was slower, even the enthusiastic siblings having to tread cautiously on the uneven ground, scarred with mole hills and craters which doubtless led to rabbit warrens.
Atop the first ridge, they paused to get their breath and their bearings before plowing through the woods ahead. A tall, dignified looking woman in her early forties crossed their path, striding along behind a sprightly Border Collie Cross. She was dressed in cream colored slacks, brown jacket and stout walking shoes, and looked for all the world like a typical English Lady of the Manor surveying her Country Seat. All that was missing was the shooting stick. Deciding she was probably local, Sam asked her how far it was to the landmark they sought.
She pointed to their left. Turning to follow her outstretched hand, they saw ? through a clearing in the trees ? an imposing white cross. This, she explained in a Yorkshire accent, was not the cross they were looking for, but once reached they would be able to see the other one, and with it one of the best views in the region.
 
Run For Their Lives - Chapter 18 cont

Though the target she indicated was now directly ahead of them, she suggested that they retrace their steps and take an easier path, which wound its way through the trees a short way back down the slope. The presence of a large clump of stinging nettles just beyond the path they had recently traversed was enough to persuade them that she knew what she was talking about. Even from here the view on three sides of them was quite extensive.
Sam could make out in the distance the chimneys of the brick works he had passed a few short nights ? a lifetime ? ago.
With the promise of better yet to come, they headed off in the recommended direction with eager steps, having thanked their guide and bid farewell with a last playful pat of her ever-impatient dog, Scamp, whom Shelley and Tori had been fussing over as the grown-ups had talked.
The new pathway they now traveled was well worn, and for a time continued to take them downward, through the trees, until they came to a sort of crossroads. To their left they could see the football and cricket pitches that bordered the car park where they?d started. To the right and ahead were wooded inclines. They took the path straight ahead as directed, and as they did so they were startled by the distant horn of a passing train. Undaunted, the girls once more took the lead, racing up the slope at such a rate that ?Mary? had to caution them not to go too far lest they get out of sight.
Both he and Lyle were finding the climb made their legs ache, though in fitter times it would not have proved a challenge to Sam.
Almost at the pinnacle of this hill, the path curved round a large clump of trees to the right, and then revealed the first cross they had spied from the previous mound. Closer examination showed this to be a War Memorial ? a sword echoed the shape of the cross at the top; a shield sporting three heraldic lions sat proudly at the base of its first support. Below this, gradually increasing in girth, were three further layers of stonework. Two of these were octagonal, with plaques on alternate faces and steps below, in between which were four pillars, two bearing lists of names.
They ambled round the monolith, reading each coppery green testimonial in turn, culminating in the one beneath the sword and shield, which read:

IN MEMORY OF
SEVEN HUNDRED AND SEVEN
OFFICERS, WARRANT OFFICERS,
AND MEN OF THE
BEDFORDSHIRE REGIMENT
WHO WERE TRAINED AT THE
AMPTHILL CAMP
AND WHO FELL FIGHTING IN THE
GREAT WAR OF 1914-1918
THIS CROSS IS ERECTED
BY THEIR FIRST COMMANDING OFFICER
HERBRAND XI DUKE OF BEDFORD
GREATER LOVE HATH NO MAN THAN THIS
THAT A MAN LAY DOWN HIS LIFE FOR HIS FRIEND​

Having deciphered all the historical details that were still legible, they made their way on up to Catherine?s cross, Tori and Shelley-Anne haring up the hill heedless of the potholes in which Sam turned his ankles several times. As they ran, clouds of white breath billowed from their mouths and they laughed at the smoke signals they were sending to the horizon. By unspoken agreement it became a race, and as they arrived at the wooden fence surrounding the monument, Tori sang out:
?I won, I won. Beat you by a mi-ile.?
 
Run For Their Lives - Chapter 18 cont

?Did not,? retorted her sister. ?I was right behind you.?
They nudged each other playfully, then ran back to fetch the ?oldies?.
?Hurry up, Nanny. Get a move on, Dad. You gotta see this.?
The grown ups refused to be hurried and idled along despite the persistent tugging on their sleeves.
The cross rose like a beacon before them, reflecting the sunlight that was now bouncing brightly off the still frosty floor. The group stood looking up at it in awe and wonder. The first cross had been an interesting piece of history, and they?d paid their respects to those named, but it was no more. This one was different: special ? personal.
They devoured every detail of its architecture.
The cross itself; with its sharp four pronged tips and the quartered shield beneath.
The base intricately carved in different patterns around its eight sides, below which a message was carved into the chalky stone. So worn had this become with age, that the legend was reproduced on a plaque set in stone at their feet, outside the fence.
The rhyme informed them that:

In days of old here Ampthill?s Towers were seen
The mournful refuge of an Injured Queen
Here flow?d her pure but unavailing tears
Here blinded zeal sustain?d her sinking years
Yet freedom hence her radiant banner wav?d
And love aveng?d a realm by priest?s enslav?d
From Catherine?s wrongs a nation?s bliss was spread
And Luther?s light from Henry?s lawless bed

-

Johannes Comes de Upper Offary
Pofuit
1773​


This was the cross, the site, the actual place where the hare had been buried ? in the shadow of this very obelisk. As they stood there, almost reverently, a hint of a tear glistened in the corner of Lyle?s eye.
?Rachel would?a loved to see this.? He whispered, to the surprise of all present.
Shelley and Tori looked to Mary uncertainly. Daddy had mentioned the taboo subject ? Mother - and they didn?t know how to react. Sam merely nodded toward the man indicating they should close in. Whereupon the girls grabbed their father in tight bear hugs and all three wept silently for a while. Sam stepped back to give them room to grieve, wandering unnoticed to the precipice.
The view was indeed as spectacular as had been twice promised.
Sam looked out admiringly on a seemingly endless panorama of fields and trees, cows grazing, splendid houses peeping up in clusters to lay claim on the landscape, the chimneys of the brickworks stretching up as if to catch the white fluffy clouds that skipped playfully across the sky. A tiny train snaked its way across the bridge below, while from overhead the sunlight glinted on the lake, making it sparkle like polished silver. Sam?s sharp black shadow marched before him down the hill, exploring the terrain that was too steep and slippery for him to tackle in the flesh. He contented himself with a stroll along the rim, surveying Nature in all her glory.
 
Run For Their Lives - Chapter 18 cont

First he went to the left as far as the helpful signpost that detailed the specifics of the view below.
Then back along to the right where he almost literally stumbled upon the brown rock (perhaps it was part of the stonework from the original tower, it looked old enough) on which someone had placed a plaque bearing an extract from the 104th Psalm:

O LORD
HOW MANIFOLD
ARE THY WORKS:
IN WISDOM HAST
THOU MADE THEM ALL:
THE EARTH IS FULL
OF THY RICHES​

Followed by the verse:

Father Almighty, Wonderful Lord
Wondrous Creator, be ever adored;
Wonders of nature
Sing praises to You,
Wonder of wonders ?
I may praise too!​

Sam reveled in the temporary solitude, drinking in the peace and tranquility of his surroundings and offering his own silent prayer of thanks for the beauty of the scene before him. To which he added a plea that Shelley-Anne and Tori be allowed to grow up to see many such future scenes. He turned back to check they were still safe and was well pleased to see all three had retained a closeness he?d not seen before today. He hung back, not wanting to break the magic of the moment, but Lyle seemed to sense him watching and motioned Mary over to rejoin them.
Warm embraces from the girls, and smiles so broad they glistened brighter than the rapidly melting frost welcomed him. They needed no words to tell him how well things had gone in his absence. His own smile broadened in response. After a few moments, he suggested the girls should take advantage of the wide open spaces to let off some steam and work up an appetite for lunch ? as long as they stayed in sight ? while he and their father adjourned to a nearby bench for another heart to heart. He wanted to ensure that this wondrous change in attitude on Strickland?s part was not merely transitory.
By lunchtime, he was convinced.
They made their way back down to the car park by the more direct route, which though shorter was steep enough to require a tight rein on their momentum. Progress was also slow at the base of the hill, for the uneven pathway by the woods was strewn with crooked tree roots ready to trip the unwary traveler. It was worth it, though, for they were treated to the sight of another whole family of squirrels drawn out by the sunshine to augment their winter stores.
Back at the stile, Sam was impressed to find his employer instantly attentive, helping the ?Nanny? over with a caution not to get her skirt hem caught on the rough wood, without the need for the slightest prompting. And at lunch, the man seemed positively relaxed in his daughters? company.
Sam was confident that he would never again let the demands of the office take precedence over quality time with his family. The scientist would have been ecstatic were it not for the tragic fate that hung over the group like the Sword of Damocles.
What could the danger be?
From whence would the hand of Death strike?
And how on Earth was he supposed to prevent it?
 
Run For Their Lives - Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Bedford
Monday 5th December 1988​


?I fink you lot ort t' go back t' London.? Connie told her astonished guests at breakfast. ?Oh, you ain't worn aht yer welcome or nuffink like that.? She hastened to reassure them, seeing their expressions, ?I just fort you'd be interested in summat I fahnd aht.?
Indeed they were.
It transpired that by a happy coincidence, the actual 18ct golden hare featured in Masquerade was to be auctioned that very day at no less than Sotheby's itself.
Lot 498.
The man who'd originally found it, now revealed to be one Dugald Thompson from nearby Kimbolton, had launched Haresoft - a computer software company, with a game hunting the jeweled hare. Only the company had gone bankrupt and so the liquidators - Peat Marwich - were selling the hare.
?His misfortune is our opportunity,? declared Strickland, ?I don't care what it costs. We're going to London and I'm gonna buy that Hare for my little girls. My Rachel wanted Shelley to have it, and by God I'm gonna see to it she gets it.?
?A new family Hare-loom, eh?? chimed in a recently arrived hologram, causing Sam to all but choke on his toast, and earning Al a ?Trust you to be so corny? glare.
Al was both chirpy and dapper, despite the jet lag. It was past Twelfth Night back home, but he still had the Christmas spirit. His suit was Santa-red with white lapels and a broad black belt, the red fedora edged and banded with white and sporting a tiny sprig of mistletoe. His eyes twinkled with impish mischief, suggesting it had been put to good use. He was munching on a chunk of fresh baked ciabatta.
Sam dared to hope that his friend was the bearer of glad tidings. That Ziggy had relented and was going to tell him what he needed to know. Or even better that the 'infallible' computer would finally admit she had made another mistake and the Strickland's future was all sunshine and roses from here on.
He excused himself from the table and went upstairs, with a slight jerk of the head to indicate that his shadow should follow him.
Jaunting to the top of the stairs, Al moaned good-naturedly between mouthfuls.
?Aw jeez Sam, give a guy a break, not the can again??
Sam indulged his friend, turning instead for the bedroom, eager as a kid on Christmas morning. Shutting the door behind him to further muffle the sound of their soliloquy, he turned to Al:
?Okay, hit me, what's de good news??
?Huh?? Al's expression advanced a single notch in the alphabet - from amused to bemused. ?What makes you think I got good news??
?Quit playing games, Al,? ordered the Leaper, sitting on the bed, ?It's written all over your face. Oi've not seen you so relaxed since?? he trailed off.
Since Gushie died.
He couldn't say it aloud, but may as well have done. The atmosphere clouded over as the unspoken reminder hung between them. Al's previous good humor had been due in part to securing a replacement for Gushie. Particularly since his brilliant wheeze of getting David to agree to being called Gushie meant Weitzman and Co need never know what had really happened. It would be no problem ensuring 'Gushie's' unavailability on inspection days. He'd still be drawing paychecks, contributing to the dental plan, and having psyche reviews. If necessary, Al would even see to it that David's diet was such that halitosis was still a notable topic of colleagues' conversation.
He had it all worked out.
Not that he would be boasting to Sam about it, of course.
The idea was that Sam's brain would Swiss-cheese again when he Leaped, and as far as he was concerned, David Beckett would be the real Gushie, all neat and clean.
So -as so often before - Al fixed Sam with his best lecherous grin, and led him to believe that his joie de vivre was attributable to a renewal of connubial relations with Tina. (Who had in fact finally forgiven him, as was proven in the note he'd just received, sealed with the acronym B.U.R.M.A., which in this case he knew to mean ?Be Undressed Ready, My Admiral.?)
Ziggy, he reluctantly informed the time traveler, was still predicting that the entire family group would be wiped off the face of the earth sometime around mid to late December. She steadfastly refused to be more specific, but had now raised the odds to a terrifying 93.9%.
 
Run For Their Lives - Chapter 19 cont

Sam rubbed his aching head with his good hand and sighed. Despite appealing to Ziggy, swearing at Ziggy, pleading, cajoling, flattering and even thumping Ziggy, they could glean not the slightest hint as to what the danger was, nor how it could be averted.
Only that Sam should help them to make plans for Christmas.
Which seemed like a contradiction when they were supposed to be dead by then. It was ridiculous, like trying to do a jigsaw where the pieces all looked the same and you have no finished picture on the box to guide you.
?Talk about 'Mission Impossible', eh?? commiserated Al.
?Yeah,? agreed Sam, ?only unlike Jim, Oi don't get any choice as to whether or not Oi accept the assignment, do Oi?? He was resigned more than resentful, but oh, so weary.
'Would it matter if you did?' thought his friend, looking on sympathetically, 'I reckon you'd jump in with both feet anyway, you poor dumb hero, you.'
?Will Ziggy at least run some scenarios wit' me?? asked Sam. The reply was guarded - as long as the computer was not asked to reveal anything that might have a major influence on the general timeline.
?For pity's sake, Zig,? put in Al, wiping crumbs from his shirtfront, ?Anyone would think we're talking global warfare here?? a pause, ?We're not, are we?? he paled at the mere thought of it.
The parallel hybrid computer pretended to consider this option, just so she could watch the Admiral squirm, before discounting it as a potential outcome of any action taken or omitted by Doctor Beckett on this particular Leap.
Nevertheless, she insisted that the ramifications of furnishing Sam with too many details, whilst initially appearing to be positive, could ultimately prove devastating to the Future. On this point, the cybernetic seer was unshakeable. However, eventually under probing Ziggy deigned to confirm that returning to London to bid for the Hare was a safe move. Neither the auction house nor the artifact had a direct bearing on the life expectancy of the family. In fact, should Sam secure their survival, then possession of the Hare would greatly enhance their chances of 'living happily ever after'.

~~~***~~~​
 
Run For Their Lives - Chapter 19 cont

A short time later they were bidding fond farewells to Connie, promising to keep in touch, and pressing her to accept payment for her hospitality.
?It really ain't necessary,? she insisted, ?You lot ain't arf brought a ray o' sunshine inta me life these past days. It's bin grand 'avin' yer.?
Lyle was not used to taking no for an answer, however. After she had thrice refused to take hold of the envelope crammed full of notes he'd offered, he decided on a more devious approach. Whilst her attention was diverted in hugging the girls and popping to the kitchen to pack portions of ?Yummy cake? for the journey, he slipped the cash into a Christmas card Sam handed him from a box they'd bought in Cambridge, and hid it in her sewing basket. By the time she discovered its presence, returning it would not only be too much hassle, it would be ungracious.
They also extended an open invitation to come stay with them anytime once they were back in the States. The girls promised to show her the sights and get her to sample all their local delicacies. ?Though we got nothing like yummy cake!? they laughed, as the cockney handed Mary her recipe for the treat.
Sam hoped he'd be long gone before he was required to concoct the confection, yet at the same time he prayed that Shelly and Tori would live to pass the secret down to their own children. He approved Lyle's gesture, glad that Connie would not be out of pocket - though Heaven knew no amount of money could ever repay all she'd done. He dared not contemplate how this Leap would have turned out if not for their chance encounter. He even believed now that catching that bus would not have been the preferred option.
Much as he valued Al's help, and always would, it had been wonderful to have a flesh-and-blood assistant on this mission. He only wished she were accompanying them to London, for he could have used her down to earth wisdom in helping to solve the catastrophic conundrum that still prevented his conclusion to this Leap.
He could only hope that GFTW would provide the answer in time.

~~~***~~~​
 
Run For Their Lives - Chapter 19 cont

Taking their seats at Sotheby's Auction house, Sam cautioned Shelley-Anne and Tori to be still and quiet, lest they cost their father dear in accidental purchases. Their excitement made it hard to contain themselves, but their behavior was exemplary. No way were they going to give Nanny an excuse to make them wait outside. They contented themselves with a huddled perusal of the catalogue, glancing briefly at earlier items, then poring over every detail of page 58, the description of Lot 498: one '18carat Gold and Gem-set Pendant By Kit Williams, 1978.'
Here they learned for the first time the inspiration behind their beloved book, and that it was expected to raise between three and six thousand pounds.
Once bidding finally began, it soon became clear the price would be considerably higher than that. The offers came fast and furious, and they were surprised to find that one of those who dropped out early was the author/creator himself. Soon it was between Lyle Strickland and one other, but ultimately Sam's employer was the more determined, and finally secured the Hare for ?29,000 plus fees. When asked to comment on his purchase, Lyle chose to remain anonymous, but insisted it had been a bargain. Truth be told, he'd have paid the full million pound ransom to secure it, and count the money well spent. The look of jubilation and sheer joy on his daughters' faces was worth every penny, and was mirrored in his own countenance. Their triumphant procession emerged from the auction house laughing.
?I guess this Little Rock isn't such a bad place, after all,? pronounced Lyle, holding aloft his booty, his anger at the world finally spent.
This gave Sam an inspired idea.
?How's about we stay here fer Christmas, den? See Santa at Harrods, the works? What d'you say? A proper family holiday??
?Oh, Daddy, could we? Ple-ee-ease?? Pleaded the girls, tugging at their father's sleeves and looking up with their adorable puppy-dog eyes.
The moment he said yes, a bright white light heralded the arrival of an extremely excited Admiral.
?You did it, Sam, Ziggy says you just did it. Whatever did you say to them??
?Christmas in London,? muttered a confused but relieved Sam. ?What's so important about dat??
Feeling the familiar tingle that warned of an imminent Leap, Sam moved in to hug Tori and Shelley-Anne and bid a silent farewell.
Al, meantime, was reasoning with Ziggy that she could finally spill the beans. Sam was not sticking around to effect the major changes the computer feared.
He studied the readout as Ziggy reluctantly released it.
The more he read; the further his jaw dropped.
At last, he understood why his boy-scout buddy had not been made privy to the facts. Sam could never have passed up a chance to save so many lives, and the effect on the time line would have been incalculable.
Sam watched Al's changing expression and his own demanded ?Well??
?They're safe, Sam. You changed History. The family had been booked to fly back to New York from Heathrow on December 22nd, Pan Am flight 103. Now they stay till New Year. Good work, pal.?
Sam was still puzzled, his look now saying: ?So what??
Lyle grabbed him suddenly in a bear hug and declared
?You're the real treasure, Mary McGillicuddy, and no mistake!?
Al had told the real Mary much the same on their last meeting, just a few minutes ago. He was really going to miss her.
A blue aura surrounded Sam.
As the Leap took him, his Swiss cheesed brain cleared momentarily and he too understood.
With a gasp he stared helplessly at Al and mouthed a single word before vanishing:
?Lockerbie!??
 
Run For Their Lives - Epilogue

Epilogue​


Whenever Sam Leaped, he was enveloped in a blue haze, which rapidly dissipated, leaving him to examine his new surroundings.
This time, the blue stayed, and Sam began to feel he was to be trapped in Limbo for eternity.

Back in New Mexico, ?Gushie? was having a conniption fit.
Admiral Calavicci had warned him that unusual things happened when Sam Leaped, but nothing could have prepared David Beckett for what was happening now. His first Leap-in, and what a baptism!
?Admiral! Dr Beeks! Anybody!?
Al, Verbena, Sammy-Jo, Donna and a half dozen others burst through the door within seconds of each other, convinced Sam was either Home or Dead. Or both.
Twenty expectant eyes focused on the new boy.
?What is it? What's happened?? asked Al urgently.
David swallowed hard.
?Wh-what do I do?? he queried, ?How, uh what, I mean?? he stammered.
?What? Spit it out, man.? Roared the Admiral, forgetting all his vows to break the kid in gently, ?I take it Sam has Leapt in??
?Y-Yes!? David nodded vigorously. Doctor Beckett had Leaped in all right. Way in. You could even say well over his head.
?Then if you're not going to tell me what's going on, I guess I'll go have a chat with our new visitor.? Al headed for the Waiting Room.
?I-I w-wouldn't open that door if I were you.? David found his voice and his motor skills and moved forward purposefully to bar Al's way.
Al turned to glare at him. He was beginning to doubt the wisdom of hiring this greenhorn.
?Admiral - you can't go into the Waiting Room. Ziggy has just flooded it!?

Sam realized that the azure environment of the Limbo-between-Leaps had finally given way to become a clear blue sea. He'd Leaped in mid-ocean like this once before, and remembered panic and an explosion, but this time he felt instantly calm.
He was swimming underwater, and soon became aware he was not alone. He was part of a group, swimming close together some way beneath the surface.
Very shortly after that, his ungoggled eyes realized there was something odd about his companions. They were all in grey wetsuits - no, they weren't wetsuits at all. His swimming partners were not even human - they were dolphins.
Tursiops truncatus truncatus.
He was swimming right in the middle of a school of bottle nosed dolphins!
They were magnificent.
So beautiful - so graceful.
And close enough to reach out and touch.
It was so peaceful, so serene and wonderful; he wished the experience could last forever. Yet he supposed his air supply would be exhausted all too soon.
Looking down for the first time at his own appearance, in order to check his gauges, he immediately became conscious of the fact that he was not wearing any breathing apparatus. This discovery intrigued him, yet he was not at all alarmed by it. He felt no discomfort, though now he thought about it; he couldn't recall having taken a breath since his Leap-in. Then he caught sight of the fact that he was stark naked. He had not a stitch on. Next he was aware that the dolphins were conversing in clicks and whistles, yet he knew what they were saying. And then he finally understood why his blood was still so oxygen rich after long submersion. Had there been a mirror to check in, he'd have seen flippers where his arms should be.
He too was a dolphin!
?Ohhhhh, boyohboyohboyohboyohboy!? he emitted, in one long sonic squeak.
 
Run For Their Lives - Writer's notes

Writer's Notes​



The helpful young lady in Bedford shopping centre is heavily modeled on Emma Fee, my dear friend and sometime editor of Quantum Quarterly, who has had the honor of interviewing Scott Bakula on a number of occasions.

Constance ?Connie? Blackman is, for the most part, my mother, who is a genuine Cockney born within the sound of Bow bells, but doesn't really have such a strong accent, unless she chooses to 'put it on'. Her car and house are both as they were in 1988, in every detail but the houseguests (Sue J has slept in ?Sam's bed?!).

The Yorkshire woman walking her dog, Scamp, is my good friend Jenny Ginn, whom I used to work with.

There have been a few changes to road layouts and such like, but it is still possible to follow Sam's route in this story very much as he did it at the time.
The cinema, as Al comments, was sadly knocked down before a preservation order could be obtained, and is now a supermarket, with nothing but a plaque to mark its passing. Other landmarks and plaques can still be seen, though Cardington hangers now fly nothing more than weather balloons, and are mostly used by film companies as huge adaptable sets.

I guess if this were a ?Virtual Seasons? episode, (which it cannot be because this series of stories is firmly pre-MI) I could be confident that MJ would have the integrity to keep all the 'period' music intact. If - however - in an alternate universe (Or Universal!) it was filmed as an 'official' episode, the whole scene in the car between London and Bedford would be made a nonsense on the DVD, since Universal would substitute all the songs with crappy musak! (Just kidding guys, I couldn't resist the dig.)

Written long before the wonderful exploration of the effects on ex-leapees in the Virtual Seasons stories, this one also takes a look at one leapee who is troubled by 'lapses in memory' and 'missing time'.
 
Since I have noticed a couple of people checking out this thread - may I point out that the formatting suffered in the great crash of a while back.

It is more easily read at www.fanfiction.net
where it can be found with the rest of the mini series by looking up the author madders-ahatter (which is my nom de plume).

Thank you for your interest.