A story exploring time travel and societal issues in the wake of 9/11. This is chapter 10. See previous posts for chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, and 9.
Hanging up the cell phone, T2 continued to pace around the parking lot of a gas station on the edge of Boulder, Colorado. He pinched a cigarette out and rolled another one, standing there, despite the wind. From the driver seat of a tall Mercedes van, Jennings watched him while eating a sandwich. Then she returned her gaze to the mountain goats ambling up a cliff side in the distance.
"Fuck fuck fuck," said T2, getting back into the vehicle. "Fuck, Jennings," he said. "The younger Thomas Barabos is tangled up in something down in Antigua. The island, not the city. Seems he bought property in St Kitts, then sailed to Antigua to gamble. But then he got involved with some casino owner there and disappeared. His girlfriend hasn't seen him in days."
"What do you think is going on?" asked Jennings.
"Could be a few things," said T2. "Maybe he's just holed up somewhere, drinking again and hiding it from his girlfriend. Maybe he said the wrong thing to the wrong person and they disappeared him. I called our lawyer in Panama and they'll get to the bottom of it eventually. But fuck. Whatever it is, Thomas is supposed to be an important part of my plan. Should I be rethinking that?"
"Family is family," said Jennings. "You want to press pause on our thing while you go down there?"
"No, Thomas makes his own choices," said T2.
Just then, they were distracted by a pickup truck flying a huge flag that read: "9/11 WAS AN INSIDE JOB."
"Look, it's the circus," observed Jennings.
"Nothing wrong with speaking your mind," said T2.
"You should go talk to him," said Jennings. "Might make a friend."
T2 considered the prospect, and decided it might be a good distraction. He got out of the van and walked over to the truck, where a man in a cowboy hat was pumping gas. "Nice flag," he said, announcing his presence. "I'm curious, what exactly does 'inside job' mean to you?"
"You know it wasn't an airplane that hit the Pentagon, right?" said the cowboy. "It was a missile. Anyone with half a brain can see that in the pictures. And what about building 7, falling down by controlled demolition even though it was never even hit? Our government was behind the whole thing. Globalists within our government."
Resisting the urge to say too much, T2 put his hands in his pockets. "So you think our government did it, what, to hide the trillions of dollars missing from Pentagon accounting?"
"Maybe," said the cowboy. "You know about Able Danger? Sibel Edmonds? The FAA's destruction of 9/11 tapes?"
"Yeah, I've been following the story," said T2. "The reason I came over was to ask you what you think should be done about it."
"Charge 'em all with treason," said the cowboy. "The Neocons. The Zionists who masterminded the whole thing. All of them."
"Thanks, well, I've got to get back on the road," said T2, cringing at the cowboy's antisemitism. "But maybe consider the possibility that the mastermind of 9/11 is known and he's not at all a Zionist."
The cowboy merely nodded. T2 got back in the van.
"Good talk?" asked Jennings.
"Yeah, he's a racist," said T2. "Probably doesn't even know how racist he is. Like, I'm sure he doesn't identify as a racist when people around him talk about racism."
T2's phone rang, preventing him from saying more. He answered and listened for a minute. "Thanks," he said, hanging up. "Thomas is okay. He flew into Minneapolis-St Paul airport yesterday."
"Good news," said Jennings.
T2's phone rang again. It was August, who had also just learned Thomas' whereabouts. They talked for a few minutes about what sounded to Jennings like family stuff. When the call was finished, T2 looked tired. "I guess that's not what I was expecting," he muttered.
"What?" asked Jennings.
"Thomas is in his hometown, filing charges against a man who abused him when he was a kid," said T2. "We'd talked about the possibility of him doing this. I went through something similar when I was his age. But I thought he'd reach out to me before going ahead with it."
"Are you worried?" asked Jennings.
"Maybe," said T2. "I guess I just thought I'd be there for him through this. But he didn't even tell his girlfriend what he was up to. Whatever. At least he's alive."
"His case," said Jennings. "Anything I can do to help?"
"Thanks, but his case is years old, in a county where the abuser is a prominent member of the community," said T2. "There's an international connection, but all of the evidence is long gone."
They drove south for hours, listening to the radio when there was sufficient signal. When they neared the New Mexico border, they turned off the main road. Later, T2 directed them to a road at the base of the mountains that was barely a track in the high desert. After a mile or so, they found a small, scrubby farm, hidden by a trick if the landscape until they were nearly upon it. T2 jumped out of the van. "Craig!" he called. "Craig, we come bearing gifts!"
"Get off my property!" said a shirtless, white-haired man who had emerged from a ramshackle chicken coop. He was holding a hunting crossbow.
"Now hold on," said T2. "We heard about you from a beautiful young woman who once stayed here. All we want is to camp on your property and we would of course compensate you for the privilege. You like precious metals? We can pay you in gold."
"Pull around that tool shed there and park behind it," said Craig. "But first, let's see that gold."
T2 handed over a one ounce bullion coin. Inspecting the metal with a practiced eye, weighing it in his hand, Craig was satisfied. "The well is broken, so you'll have to haul your own water from town. Mary at the cafe will let you fill bottles. Maybe you can fill some for me. Have to be tomorrow. They're already closed today."
Getting back in the van, T2 and Jennings parked as instructed and stepped out onto the windblown sand. Without a word, T2 ducked into an outbuilding and emerged with two shovels. "Help me dig a fire pit before it gets dark?" he asked.
They dug a pit and gathered sun bleached twists of firewood from the surrounding area. When the sun went down, they ate their rations and lit a fire. Ten minutes later, Craig came over and sat down. "You act like you've been here before, but I've never seen you, and I've been here over twenty years," he said to start the conversation.
T2 smiled. "You're a believer in John Titor, right?" he said. "What if there are others? Time travelers, like him?"
"What are you getting at?" asked Craig, intrigued.
"Maybe I have been here before, but in the future," said T2.
"Oh, I get that way sometimes, too," said Craig, who took a long swig off of a dusty glass bottle with no label. "Like I'm adrift in time. Outside of it, even."
"Right, but T2, how did you know where the shovels were?" asked Jennings.
(Feature image from Pixabay.)
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