Chasing Ghosts

Summary

When Ben leaps into a supposedly-haunted house with a film crew of ghost hunters, he finds that TV is not exactly out to capture the truth.

But as he works to rescue one of his crew from a nasty accident, he finds that maybe he’s found himself a ghost after all.

Chapter 1

Haunter Hunter

All Ben could see after the leap was a bright light shining directly into his eyes, with only darkness in every other direction.

Okay, he thought as he squinted and blinked, trying to get his bearings, if someone tells me to ‘walk into the light,’ I swear to god I’m gonna lose it. He held a hand up to his eyes to try and get a glimpse of anything else, but it was just too dark.

“So?” a faceless, masculine voice came from the blackness, and Ben found he could just barely make out the silhouette of someone behind the light. “Do you see anything?”

Ben frowned. “Uh, nothing but a bright light in my face,” he complained. “Would you mind…?”

“See, Joey?” came another deep voice from Ben’s right. “I told you we need to use the infra-red. He can’t see a damn thing.”

“He won’t see a damn thing with the infra-red either!” the first voice argued. “Only the camera sees it. We’ll be in pitch darkness.”

“That’s what the flashlights are for! Switch it already.”

The light flipped off, and it did indeed leave the three apparent people present in a black void, except for a slightly illuminated face looking down at what appeared to be the flip-out screen of a video camera, which faded into view once the spots cleared from Ben’s eyes. Well, that gave him a hint as to what may have been happening. Some kind of student film, maybe?

“Okay, I see you just fine, G-man,” the camera operator—Joey?—said. “Lead the way.”

Ben bit his lip. He was supposed to lead them somewhere in the dark? “You got a light for me?”

Joey looked up at him from the screen, eyebrow raised, before reaching a hand to Ben’s forehead, where he flicked on a light attached to his head. Instantly, the immediate area in front of Ben was illuminated, and he saw that Joey, a man in his twenties with a goatee and beanie, was carrying a TV camera on his shoulder. So, potentially a documentary, then?

But where were they, and what were they actually doing here?

He turned, and the head lamp caught the other man in the room—a tall, slim man with an impish grin on his face. He switched on his own head lamp, and Ben turned away from it, and scanned around the room, taking in where he was. This was a somewhat unremarkable living room. Why they were here in darkness was a mystery to Ben.

“Let’s go,” Joey insisted.

“Uh, you know… maybe you should take the lead,” he said to the tall man.

“Me?” the man looked surprised, then amused. “What, are you too scared already?”

“Scared? Why would I be…?” and then it dawned on him, as his hands closed around an EMF meter tucked into his belt. “We’re ghost hunters…” he observed. Then he realised he’d said that out loud, and added, “So of course I’m not scared! I just thought you might like to take point. That’s all.”

“Greg, if the fearless one goes in first, it’s not as entertaining. The people want to see the scaredy-cat absolutely pissing themselves. So go. It’s only down the stairs.”

Okay, that was a valuable piece of information. Downstairs. So they were, he supposed, going down to the basement. Wherever that was.

“Alright, fine, I’ll go first,” he said, and peered around the room, picking an exit at random and heading for it.

Ben, of course, was pretty fearless himself these days, demon hallucinations notwithstanding. What was some old basement in a completely normal-looking house to him, anyway? He supposed he could feign fear, if that’s what the others expected, but it wasn’t like he was being poisoned this time. He could keep a clear head.

As he crossed into the entry hall, he found a door under the stairs—that had to be the basement, surely.

He opened it up, mugging to the camera a little. “Well, here goes!” he said, and stepped onto the staircase, resisting the urge to flip the light switch.

He crept down the creaking wooden steps carefully, hanging onto the banister.

“So far so good,” he announced to the camera, which was following him closely.

He peered down at the EMF meter, and was interested to note that the needle was moving. Well, that could have been any kind of electrical disturbance. No cause for alarm there.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he peered around the room. It was full of junk: old boxes, furniture, dusty old clutter.

“Okay, now what?” he asked the others, turning to face them on the staircase.

As he did, a loud hollow ‘thump‘ behind him made him spin back around.

“Did that chair just fall over…?” he asked, catching sight of the chair that had definitely been upright the last time he’d looked at it.

“It sure did. Pretty freaky!” said the tall man, for whom he still didn’t have a name.

Ben approached the chair cautiously, and then from another part of the room, another eerie sound came. A baseball rolled into the centre of the room, and stopped at Ben’s feet.

Okay, what the hell?

Ben backed away from the ball. That had got him a little spooked, he had to admit. But there must have been a rational—

Without warning, a dark figure jumped out of the shadows. Ben fell back in a moment of abject terror.

“Oh, sh—!” he yelped as his butt hit the bottom step.

Then, laughter.

The black figure pulled off their ski mask, revealing long blonde locks, and the woman’s green eyes sparkled in the lamplight as she giggled.

Ben’s elevated heart rate began to drop, as he took in what had just occurred.

“Oh my god, Greg, you were meant to run back upstairs, not fall on your ass!”

Ben frowned, rubbing his now-pained tail-bone. So this whole thing was for show?

“I guess you were too good,” he said to the woman, his face contorting as he pulled himself back to his feet.

“Not that I’m not entertained,” the tall man said, “but we’re gonna need to do another take.”

Ben rubbed his butt once more, watching Joey and the tall guy head back up the stairs.

“You good?” the woman asked, grinning. “You didn’t break your butt, did you?”

“I mean, that is a possibility,” Ben said with a laugh. “My tail-bone is killing me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Wouldn’t want your next spanking to hurt too bad,” she said in a distinctly flirtatious tone.

Ben chuckled nervously. “Uh, yeah. We’ll see how fast that recovers, shall we?” He began ascending the stairs.

“Break a leg!” the woman called up to him.

“Oh gee, thanks,” Ben deadpanned. “Why don’t I just break each of my bones one by one? By the end of this… production… I’ll be in a full body cast. All the ghosts can sign it.”

The woman giggled as she put her mask back over her face. “Well you’d better get this take right so that doesn’t happen. Remember, you panic and run upstairs, ushering everyone out. Make sure you knock the camera around good so it doesn’t get me in frame too long.”

“You got it!” Ben said, reaching the top of the stairs. As he closed the door behind him, he turned and nearly had yet another fall in surprise as he walked right into Addison’s flickering hologram.

 “Oh my god, don’t do that!” he hissed.

“Sorry,” she replied, a grin plastered on her face. “Why are you walking around in the dark anyway?”

“For the atmosphere,” Ben whispered, peeking towards the living room to see if the others could see or hear him. He wasn’t able to see them, but he turned off his headlamp just in case. “I’m a ghost hunter. Or rather, a charlatan. This is totally staged.”

Addison was busily fiddling with her handlink. “Oh, I see.” She prepared her information dump with an authoritative pose. “Okay, it’s October second, 2010, and you are Greg Nguyen, co-host of a ghost hunting TV show called ‘Haunter Hunter’—you’re currently filming a pilot, but the show never made it to air. Ooh, looks like the camera man got injured pretty bad during this production.”

“That guy, Joey?” Ben asked, pointing to the other room.

“Joseph Harding.”

“What happened to him?”

“Well, they were filming in an abandoned asylum, and it looks like the stairs collapsed when he was on them. He broke his spine and lost the use of his legs, which put a halt to his career and left him in chronic pain. In 2018, he OD’d on opiates.”

“My god…” Ben shook his head. “Well that should be easy to fix though, right? Just keep him off the stairs.”

“Let’s hope that’s all.”

“Greg, are you coming?” called the voice of the tall man.

“You’d better go. I’ll try not to spook you.” Addison moved to press a button on the handlink.

“Wait, before you go—what are the names of the other two crew members?”

“Oh, uh…” Addison swiped a hand on the rounded device. “Tall guy is Alex McKenzie, and the lady is—oh, Greg’s wife, Iris Hart-Nguyen.”

“Wife…?” Ben swallowed.

“Earth to Greg!” shouted Joey. “If we could do this take before we die of old age, that’d be great!”

Ben and Addison shared a final awkward look with one another.

“Well, just remember your fiancée is around to see what you get up to,” she said with a grin and a wink, before a light swept her figure out of existence, leaving Ben to continue this charade with his new buddies.

“Okay, let’s go find us a ghost,” he called back to the living room.

Chapter 2

Kicking Back

Another take later, Ben and the rest of the so-called ghost hunters turned on the lights of the house and returned to the living room to relax.

With the lights on, the room was entirely unremarkable; a couple of well-used couches, some framed photographs of an unknown couple and their two children on the walls. An LCD television sat on a bench across from the couches, and Joey was in the process of connecting his camera to it to review the footage.

“Heads up, G-man!” Alex called out, and Ben very nearly missed the beer can that was lobbed in his direction. But he managed to just catch it between his thumb and ring finger as it threatened to slip through and hit the wall. With a relieved chuckle, he cracked it open, while Alex followed suit.

Iris walked into the living room, sipping from her own beer can. “Think I was a convincing poltergeist?” she asked, making a beeline for Ben on the couch.

“Oh, sure,” he replied, “you were terrifying. And you didn’t even need jimsonweed.”

Iris tilted her head, puzzled at the addition.

“Never mind.”

Well, this wasn’t the worst leap, certainly. No immediate danger, a bit of silly fun, and some brewskis. Not bad.

“Did someone say ‘weed?’” Joey called out, and reached into his backpack, from which he produced a large glass bong. “I’ll share, but someone else has gotta score the next batch. Deal?”

All of a sudden, I feel like I’m back in college.

The bong gurgled as Joey took a hit, and he held in the breath, holding the bong and lighter out for someone else to have a turn.

Ben shook his head, but Alex and Iris both swarmed the bong to have their turn.

Joey coughed out the thick smoke, before pressing play on his camera. The infra-red light presented as a greenish hue on an otherwise monochrome image, and the evening’s events played out on the television screen.

Ben saw, for the first time, what Greg Nguyen looked like. From behind, he almost felt like he was watching himself: black hair, fit and slim. But as he turned to the camera he could tell it was a different person, and somehow, even though he knew it had been him who did these actions, it was easier than watching himself on video. Less humiliating, especially the parts where he screamed like a child and scrambled up the stairs.

Ah, dignity, he thought, how I miss you.

“Convincing screams, Ben. A little bit girly.”

Ben glanced to the source of Addison’s voice, seeing her smiling in the kitchen doorway. He nodded his response, holding up his beer in a toasting gesture.

Addison’s eyes, however, had moved to the three others around the bong.

“Living the dream, huh? Aren’t you gonna join in?” she teased, stifling a laugh.

Ben shot her an exasperated look.

“Oh, I’m just joking around. It’s not often you get the chance to relax, right? Enjoy it while it lasts.”

“When does…” he whispered, nodding his head towards Joey.

“Tomorrow night at approximately eleven fifteen. Looks like you were filming at the old Havenwell Psychiatric Hospital. Abandoned for about forty years at this point. They always say old asylums are haunted, because of the terrible things that went on in places like that. Lots of people suffering and dying. Well, I guess you know that by now, huh?”

Ben shivered, and reflexively rubbed his neck at the site where he recalled Martinez jabbing a scalpel.

“You’re meant to space out after getting stoned, Greg,” Iris said, slinking up to him on the couch and planting herself next to him—uncomfortably close.

She looked to the doorway where Addison stood curiously. “Or did you actually see a real ghost? Aunt Mel swears up and down she sees shadows in this place. She thinks it’s the ghost of Uncle Walter.” She chuckled. “But I think she might just be a little bit…” she ran a finger in circles against her ear, sticking out her tongue.

Ben laughed. “Oh… yeah—well, you know. I thought I saw something move, but it’s nothing.”

Well, he figured, maybe that excuse would cover for him looking at Addison during this leap. Holograms and ghosts weren’t so different in substance. Except that one was real and the other wasn’t, of course.

Iris’s hand slid across his thigh, and he tensed up, flicking a look of discomfort towards Addison.

Her eyebrows were high as she watched the amorous woman lean into him and begin kissing his neck.

“Ah…” Ben chuckled nervously, standing up. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

*        *        *

“Okay, that girl is DTF,” Addison said as Ben stared at the man in the bathroom mirror.

“What am I supposed to do?” Ben asked, splashing water on his face. “How do I let her down easy? She’s married to this guy. I don’t want to put their relationship on the rocks.”

“Well, you could always feign stomach cramps,” she suggested. “It’s only for a night.”

“What about the kissing and… fondling?” Ben screwed up his face. “I don’t think much will stop her from doing that.”

Addison looked pensive as she tried to think of something, as Ben rotated the wedding band on his finger.

“I’m not gonna be home for our wedding, am I?” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Addison’s lower lip trembled. “Don’t worry about it, Ben. We’re still a team, right?”

“You bet we are,” Ben said, smiling fondly at her. “So let’s, as a team, figure out what to do about Iris.”

“Okay, how about this?” she said, eyes lighting up. “Try falling asleep on the couch. If you’re that tired, she won’t bother. Hopefully.” She crossed her fingers, leading Ben to catch sight of the engagement ring she still wore. “I’m willing to forgive any wandering hands and lips she might place on you, in the interest of remaining incognito, as long as you’re willing to put up with it.”

“Okay, I’ll give that a shot. Promise I won’t reciprocate,” Ben said with a smirk. Though he wasn’t completely comfortable with this option, it was one of those ‘you gotta do what you gotta do’ moments.

Ben left the bathroom, and returned to the living room, making a show of yawning.

Iris was at the bong, taking another deep breath. She met Ben’s eye for a moment, grinning, as she held in the smoke. And then she started coughing quite dramatically, leaning over as the smoke vacated her lungs.

She laughed nervously. “Heh, I think that’s enough of that.” She climbed back onto the couch in a more calculated, cautious way than before, eyes darting around the room.

“You okay?” Ben asked, sitting as far from her on the couch as he could.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine,” she said. “Just a little light-headed. Must be the dope, I guess.”

“Strong stuff, I assume,” Ben observed. “Well, do you wanna go to bed? It’s your aunt’s house, right? Bedroom’s all yours.”

Please say yes.

“Y-yeah. Might do that.”

Hallelujah.

“Okay. Well, do you need help getting up, or—?”

“No, no… that’s fine.” Her eyes were on the TV, which was still replaying the shot footage on loop. After a moment of watching it intently, she stood, giving Ben a distracted smile. “You’re a natural on camera,” she said, before wandering uneasily in the direction of the kitchen.

Ben raised an eyebrow. “Uh, stairs are back that way, right?” he asked, hiking a thumb to the other side of the room.

Iris shook her head, as if snapping out of a daze. “Right. My bad.”

Ben exchanged a puzzled look with Addison as Iris headed back in the other direction.

“Bro, is she alright?” Alex whispered as she disappeared from view. “The bud wasn’t cut with something else was it?”

“I didn’t think so,” Joey said, eyes wide.

Ben’s eyes flicked to Addison, who shrugged.

“Don’t look at me,” she said, swiping at the handlink. “No medical emergencies on record. She’s still perfectly fine in our time. Maybe she’s just a lightweight. On the bright side, I guess you’re safe from her advances for tonight.”

Ben bit his lip.

“If you want me to keep tabs on her overnight, I can do that,” Addison continued. Ben responded with a firm nod, and tried to dismiss his surfacing ruminations on ghosts and the unexplained.

Chapter 3

Uncle Walter

“Ghost hunters? Ah, Ben gets to do the coolest stuff sometimes,” Ian remarked as they filled their mouth with orange poppyseed muffin.

Addison placed her handlink down on the desk, and grabbed the latte that was waiting for her.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, the most supernatural thing going on in that house is the heroic amounts of marijuana being smoked,” she said, shrugging. She took a long sip of the coffee, eyes closed. “Thank you for this.”

“You are welcome, and no it doesn’t make me feel better knowing Ben’s getting a golden opportunity to rip on a bo… boss.” Ian finished as Magic approached the two. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Magic greeted, eyes slightly narrow. “I’m going to pretend I wasn’t listening just now. So what’s our status?”

“Ben’s a Ghostbuster,” Addison said, “and Ziggy’s 99% that he has to stop his crew mate from falling through a rotted wood staircase in an abandoned psychiatric hospital about 24 hours from now.”

“Oh, I bet Ben’s looking forward to going there,” Magic said with a snort.

Addison tilted her head. “He’s not freaking out, but he doesn’t love it. I think he’ll be fine. As long as there aren’t actual ghosts there, anyway.” She grinned. “Though I can’t say I wouldn’t want to see his reaction to seeing a ghost, if they existed.”

“You never know,” Ian said, wiggling their eyebrows. “You’ve read old project files, right? Some pretty spooky stuff happened once in a while.”

“I’ll let you know if you need to get your cat ears,” Addison laughed, taking the lid off her coffee and blowing on it. “I need to go back in soon. Ben wants me to keep tabs on his… uh, wife.”

“Now there’s an awkward situation,” Ian mused, “if you’re the monogamous type.”

“Well, Ben and I had an agreement when I was supposed to be the leaper: ‘avoid what you can, endure what you can’t.’ I trust him to make the right decisions as situations arise.”

“Arise?” Ian stifled a laugh. “Phrasing, Addison.”

Magic shook his head. “I feel like I’m listening to Al,” he muttered, and wandered away from the pair.

Addison and Ian shared a giggle.

“Well,” Ian said, “I might as well get involved on the ghost hunting. I’ll be watching closely on the monitors for paranormal activity. Who knows? Might catch something they don’t!”

Addison rolled her eyes. “Sounds tedious, but have at it, champ.” She patted Ian on the shoulder, finished her coffee, and grabbed her handlink. “I’ll see you later.”

As Addison entered the Imaging Chamber and materialised in the house, she noted Ben had, in fact, dozed off on the couch. Alex and Joey were on the other couch, trying not too laugh too loud as they watched Saturday Night Live featuring Bryan Cranston, their eyes bloodshot and eyelids drooping.

She tapped her handlink to shift her position to the bedroom upstairs, and she materialised upon Iris not sleeping, but sitting hunched on the bed, looking down at her cell phone intently, furiously tapping at the tactile keyboard. The dim light of the phone was the only source of illumination in the room, and Addison saw only the look of intense concentration on Iris’s face.

“So, not a lightweight, then?” Addison observed, looking at the woman curiously. “What are you doing, exactly?”

And then, Iris tensed up, and turned her eyes towards Addison.

Addison froze in place, as Iris blinked a moment, rubbing her eyes, and then returned her gaze to the phone.

She might not have seen me, but… she did look in my direction. Addison bit her lip. No, she couldn’t have heard me. Right?

Aiming to test the woman, Addison cleared her throat and waved her arms.

Iris’s gaze snapped back to Addison’s general location in the room. She squinted a moment before shaking her head. This time, she didn’t return to her phone, but just sat in the darkness, silently staring into the room.

Okay. This is creepy.

Addison made the snap decision to get out of there. Screw keeping tabs on her! Not if she was sensing Addison’s presence. She was liable to think the house really was haunted. Addison tapped at the handlink, and the hologram broke away, leaving her alone in the Imaging Chamber.

She shivered.

“Sorry Ben, I’ll catch you in the morning,” she muttered as she left the room.

*        *        *

Ben awoke to the taste of stale beer in his mouth.

Lovely.

He rubbed his stiff neck as he climbed to his feet. Alex and Joey were both passed out, one on the other couch and the other sprawled on the floor, fast asleep in what looked like a terribly uncomfortable position.

The smell of fried eggs filled Ben’s nostrils, and he followed the scent to the kitchen. Iris was at the stove, making the breakfast.

“Sleep well?” she asked as he hobbled in and sat at the kitchen table.

Ben snorted. “Nope. What about you? Feeling any better?”

Iris shrugged. “Yeah, I’m okay.” She turned around. “Was someone else in the bedroom last night?”

Ben shook his head. “No, I would have come up, but I fell asleep down here.”

Iris nodded pensively. “I see.” She turned back around to the cook-top, scraping a spatula across the frypan.

“Why do you ask?” he enquired.

“Oh, I just thought I saw a shadow.”

“Uncle Walter?”

She hesitated a moment. “Uh, maybe?”

Ben grinned. “I guess your aunt isn’t as kooky as you thought. But you know, we should check this place for gas leaks, just in case.”

“Good thinking,” Iris agreed.

“Ben…” a whisper came from the doorway, and Ben turned to find Addison peeking into the kitchen and beckoning him.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” he said, standing from the table, and cocking his head at Addison as he headed for the bathroom.

“Ben, I think Iris sensed me last night,” Addison said as he tiptoed through the living room. Ben looked back at her with wide eyes.

“What?” he whispered fiercely.

Addison nodded. “Every time I made a noise, she looked my way. I ended up ditching the Imaging Chamber—sorry about that.”

“What the hell…” Ben murmured as he entered the bathroom and turned to his fiancée.

“I know,” Addison said, grimacing. “I’m scared to go anywhere near her. What if she thinks she’s sensing a ghost?”

“Or worse,” Ben added, “what if she thinks she’s losing it?”

The two of them took a moment, just staring at one another, attempting to think of what to do next.

“I’ll talk to the others and see if they have any suggestions,” Addison finally said. “In the meantime, I guess get to know everyone. Here’s a few conversation starters: Alex is the researcher of the group, so he should be able to tell you more about where you’re going and why. Joey studied Liberal Arts with you at Penn State a couple of years back. You met Iris in high school—you were class of ’04—and married six months ago in New York City. Your brother Philip was Best Man.”

“That’s a start, I guess.”

“You might be able to do some more research if you’ve got a phone with social media capabilities.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ben said, feeling around his pockets for a phone. He landed a hand on one, and was pleased to see it was an early smart phone—a Nokia E71. He showed it to Addison. “Bingo.”

Addison gave a thumbs up. “Alright, I’ll catch you later. Hopefully we’ll figure this thing out.”

Chapter 4

Pot and Kettle

The other two men had roused by the time Ben and Iris had finished their breakfast, and Alex stretched as he sauntered into the kitchen, his hair going in every direction.

“Alrighty, who’s ready to check into the loony bin?” he asked, rubbing his hands together and grinning. “We’ve got full access from three to three.”

“Don’t call it that,” Iris chided. “That perpetuates stigma against the mentally ill. God knows we don’t need more of that. This is meant to be 2010, right? Let’s keep up with the times.” She took a drink from her mug of tea, but kept her eyes on Alex in a judging glare.

“Sorry, sorry,” Alex said defensively.

Ben nodded his agreement with Iris. “Excellent point,” he said, exchanging a smile with her across the table. “We really should treat this with the respect it deserves. People suffered in that place. You did the research, didn’t you? What kinds of things went on there?”

“Oh, it was pretty bad,” he said. “But you know what mental health treatment was like in the dark ages. Lobotomies, neglect, restraints, electro shock, drug experimentation. People who went there often got worse, not better. Stuck in squalor, abused by the staff. Just not a way to become healthy.”

“And what kind of apparitions can we not expect to see?” Joey asked as he wandered into the room, towelling off wet hair.

“There’s a ghost people call Bob that likes to pull people’s hair in the mess hall,” Alex explained, “And one called Gertrude that stares out from the windows of the common room, with wild hair and a hospital gown.”

And as he named a few more ghosts and their modus operandi, Ben glanced at Iris, who was looking quietly into her tea.

She hadn’t been the same this morning. More quiet, reserved. Cautious. How much had her apparent experience with Addison shaken her?

“You okay?” he asked in a low voice.

“Hmm?” she looked up, surprised. “Oh. Yeah, don’t worry about me. How are you doing… Greg?” She spoke the name slowly, with an almost imperceptible narrowing of her eyes that cleared a split second later.

Ben felt his grip tighten around his mug of coffee.

She’s not… on to me somehow?

“Me? I’m great. Why wouldn’t I be?” he said with a nonchalant wave of his hand.

“I don’t know,” she said. “You seem nervous.”

“Funny, I was just thinking that of you,” Ben countered.

“Well, it’s natural to be nervous when you’re about to go to a haunted old asylum, I guess,” Iris said. “But I’d be lying if I didn’t say I had kind of a bad feeling about it.”

Ben felt like the two of them were dancing around something. If only he knew what.

“You too, huh?” he said finally, after taking a moment to weigh up whether or not to voice his concerns about the staircase before even seeing it. But, if Iris had bad vibes too, maybe he could use that to his advantage. “I think we should do a thorough safety check before it gets dark.”

“Oh, I agree completely,” Iris said, and chuckled. “We seem to be on the same page a lot, don’t we?”

“If we weren’t, we wouldn’t have got married, right?”

“Y-yeah. Guess not.” There was the doubt in her eyes again.

*        *        *

Addison leaned a hip against Ian’s workstation and folded her arms. “Ian, you know drugs, right?”

Ian looked from their monitor to Addison with a raised eyebrow. “Come again?”

“You’ve been around a bong or two in your time.”

Ian became uncomfortable. “Well, you know, recreational cannabis use has been legal in the state of California since 2016, and I can’t be held criminally or professionally responsible for what I do in my—”

“Oh, relax!” Addison laughed. “I have a crackpot theory and I want your input. Okay, more emphasis on the ‘pot’ and less on the ‘crack.’”

Ian loosened their grip on the table. “Okay… go on.”

“What if—and hear me out here—the pot made Iris able to sense me? I don’t know how, but…”

“Well, it’s not impossible,” Ian mused. “There are special circumstances where a hologram may be seen or sensed.”

They began working on their computer, bringing up files from the original generation project.

“We haven’t really had a chance to test it with the current gen systems, but Al was regularly seen by animals, children, and—” Ian hesitated, chuckling. “Not exactly kosher to call them ‘mentally absent’ these days, but that’s the term Al used at the time. So it’s not outside the realm of possibility that a mind-altering substance like THC might change someone’s awareness enough to sense—”

Ian paused, mouth open, as they read the file they had up.

“What was the name of that mental hospital Ben’s going to?”

“Havenwell Psychiatric Hospital, Pennsylvania… why?”

“Oh, now that’s spooky.”

“What is?”

Ian pointed to the screen. “Sam Beckett leaped into a patient there one time. That’s where Al figured out a lot of people there could see him.”

“Seriously?” Addison gawked at the screen, which had some old photographs of the inside of the place. “That is pretty weird.”

“Okay, screw this—I’m getting my cat ears.”

*        *        *

Ben took up his mug and wandered as casually as he could into the living room. Taking a drink, the coffee nearly came out his nose when he saw Addison standing like a statue in the corner. He gave her a puzzled look.

“I’m testing whether Iris notices me if I just stand still and don’t make a noise,” she whispered. “So just… pretend I’m not here. Okay?”

Ben glanced back to the kitchen to make sure nobody was watching him, before leaning in to her. “Iris is acting super weird. You don’t think she also might be noticing her… husband… is different?”

“All the more reason to ignore me now,” Addison said. “Just play it cool, okay? As long as she doesn’t come right out and say you’re a stranger…”

“I’ll try. I’m getting a weird feeling about this leap, though, and I don’t much like it.”

“We all are, honestly. We’re working under the theory that the pot Iris smoked may have altered her brain enough to sense me. Maybe once it wears off properly, she’ll go back to normal. Ziggy’s giving that a seventy-two percent probability.”

Ben nodded thoughtfully. “Makes sense.”

“What does?” Joey asked, entering the room with his own steaming mug of coffee. He still looked half asleep.

Ben awkwardly turned away from Addison. “Oh, uh, it makes sense to conduct a thorough check of the structural integrity of any place we step while we’re in a derelict building,” he said, taking the opportunity to plant the seed into the camera man’s mind. “Safety first and all that.”

Joey considered this a moment, and nodded. “Yeah. Things could get hairy in the old dump.” He grinned. “Maybe we should make you health and safety officer of the production, huh?”

“Great idea.”

“Saves me reading all this dry-ass literature the studio gave me,” he said, reaching into one of his bags and pulling out a stack of stapled paper. He held it out to Ben. “All yours.”

Ben frowned. “Oh, great.”

“Thanks for volunteering, my man.” Joey winked.

Ben’s eyes flicked to Addison, who was holding back a laugh.

I guess the R&R portion of this leap is concluded.

Chapter 5

Hitting the Road

Ben rubbed his eyes, taking a moment to look away from the health and safety documents Joey had foist upon him. It was just after one o’clock, and he found he was getting peckish.

He peered up at Addison, still standing quietly in the corner. Iris hadn’t given any indication she’d noticed her, but she wasn’t taking any chances. But she wasn’t in the room at the moment—she’d gone for a shower, while Alex and Joey were loading up the van in anticipation of their field trip.

“This is… thorough,” Ben said, slapping one stapled stack on another. “I now know all about proper placement of mats over camera cables, which is super-duper helpful when the camera’s battery powered. Oh, and I also know that you’re supposed to announce before you turn on a light so nobody gets temporarily blinded. I wish I’d known about that when I first leapt in here.”

“Hey, on the bright side, this information could come in handy if you ever end up on a movie set,” said Addison, before her eyes flicked out to the entry hall.

“Incoming,” she whispered, and returned to an unmoving, tense state.

A moment later, Iris entered, wearing a pair of jeans and black blouse, her damp hair swept back with a headband.

“Hey, have you seen my cell phone? I swear it was on the bed, but…”

“No, I haven’t seen it,” Ben said. “Come to think of it, I haven’t even seen you using it today at all.”

“That’s because I haven’t had it since last night.”

“I take it you’ve checked under the bed?”

Iris gave a troubled nod, her brow furrowed. “Uncle Walter strikes again?”

“Uncle Walter’s kind of a jerk if he’s stealing phones,” Ben said. “What does a ghost need a phone for? Does he plan to sell it on Craigslist? ‘Used phone, slightly haunted?’”

This elicited a laugh from Iris. “May ring in the middle of the night, only for nobody to be on the other end…”

“May order unexplained pizzas with the least popular toppings.”

The two of them shared a giggle as Alex wandered into the house.

“You guys ready to roll?”

Ben looked questioningly at Iris. “Think you can do without your phone?”

“Guess I’ll have to, unless our ghost is ready to give it up.”

She glanced around, as if waiting for a reply. As her eyes moved around the immediate area, Ben noticed them linger a tiny bit longer in Addison’s general direction than anywhere else, before she shrugged and headed out of the house.

The sound of a car horn playing the riff from ‘Ghostbusters’ blared outside, and Ben peered out the front door to see a van painted to look like the one in ‘Scooby-Doo.’

“I’ll be damned,” he mumbled, “it’s the Mystery Machine.”

Joey leaned out the driver’s side window. “Butts in seats. Let’s go!”

*        *        *

“Alrighty! Final gear check before we split!” Alex said as Ben and Iris took their seats in the van. “Camera and batteries?”

“Check!” Joey said, miming a tick with his hand.

“Shotgun mic and lavaliers?”

“Check!”

“EMF meters?”

“Check!” Ben said, peering down at the box by his feet which contained the devices in question.

“Walkie-talkies?”

“Got ’em here,” said Alex. “Check.”

“Electromagnetic emitters?”

Emitters? Oh! That must be what they’re using to fake the readings.

“I suppose this is it, right?” Iris asked, holding up what looked like a hand built electromagnet.

“That’s it,” confirmed Alex.

Iris inspected the device. “Who built this thing? It could use some better insulation.”

“Take it up with the husband,” Alex laughed.

Ben raised an eyebrow at Iris. He hadn’t pegged her as someone who’d have opinions about electrical insulation. “It… it was a rush job,” he rationalised, “but, as Health and Safety Officer, I pledge to make repairs at the earliest convenience.”

“Very official,” Iris commented.

“Looks like we’ve got everything essential,” Alex concluded. “Now fasten your seatbelts, and let’s go get us some Mickey D’s!”

The van peeled away from Aunt Mel’s house, and the club music of Ke$ha filled the vehicle.

Oh, this is gonna be a long car ride.

As the van drove away, Ben watched Addison on the lawn, blowing him a kiss. Too close quarters with Iris to join them in the van, he assumed.

He turned away as she disappeared from view, and reached into his pocket to bring out Greg’s phone.

“Huh…” he looked up at Iris, patting all his pockets with puzzlement. “My phone… where did it…”

“Yours now too?” Iris raised her eyebrows. “Uncle Walter really is a jerk.” But the statement was less of a joke this time, containing more of a creeping worry.

“Hey…” he called to the front of the van, “you guys aren’t messing with us, are you?”

“What?” Alex said, turning around.

“Both of us have lost our phones…” Ben said. “This isn’t a practical joke, right? Because it’s not funny.”

“No idea what you’re talking about, dude.”

“We can call them,” suggested Joey.

“Yeah, hold on,” said Alex, and pulled out his phone, which seemed just fine. He tapped a few buttons, and put the phone to his ear. He waited for a moment before frowning. “Okay, G-man’s phone is straight to voicemail.”

He tried Iris’s phone next, with the same result. “Uhh, at least we have our walkie-talkies?”

Ben grimaced. That didn’t comfort him at all, and by the apprehensive look on Iris’s face, she felt the same way.

But there had to be a logical explanation. His phone had probably just fallen out of his pocket somewhere. And her phone… well, maybe it was lost in her bedsheets or down in some inaccessible crevice. And they were both out of batteries.

Ben tried to ignore the nagging thought that his phone had been at 94% battery the last time he’d looked at it a few hours ago.

*        *        *

Addison returned to the main floor of Project Quantum Leap, finding Magic and Jenn standing at Ian’s terminal, reading something on the screen.

“Why do we always crowd around my workstation?” Ian mumbled, adjusting their cat ear headband. “Not like I have things to do or anything.”

“What’s the goss?” Addison asked as she approached.

“Just catching up on this asylum Ben’s going to,” Jenn replied without looking away from the monitor. “Sam suffered a pretty major mental break there after undergoing dangerously high voltage electroshock treatment. He regressed into the personalities of previous leapees.”

Magic rubbed his chin, frowning. “And one of them was me.”

“You’re kidding?” Addison glanced at the old records on the patient called Sam Beiderman on the screen. “What is the actual deal with this leap…?”

“I don’t know,” Magic said, “but I can’t say it’s not eerie seeing my name, rank and serial number described in a psychiatric report from 1954. And look at the date.”

“October third?” Addison’s jaw drifted open. “That’s the same as Ben’s current date.”

“There are too many creepy coincidences here,” Jenn said, stepping away from the monitor. “I don’t like it and I think we all deserve a drink.”

“Well, we’re still on duty, so cool it,” Magic said, turning to his three colleagues. “Listen, I know it’s risky because of whatever’s going on with that woman Iris, but I want someone in the Imaging Chamber at all times. I don’t want to take any chances here, because one guy’s spinal injury seems a little thin of a reason for all this strangeness, don’t you?”

Addison sighed. “Well, if you say so. Who wants a turn then? Because I gotta go pee.”

Ian stood. “Well, I always wanted to ride in the Mystery Machine.”

Addison smiled. “Okay then. Tag, you’re it.” She placed the handlink in Ian’s palm.

Chapter 6

Pit Stop

As the van pulled into parking lot of the roadside McDonald’s, Ben got out to stretch his legs, while the others went to order their food.

An electronic hum came up behind him, followed by a voice. “How goes the ghost hunt?”

Ben turned to see Ian standing there, waving their fingers at him. His eyes were drawn to the embellishment upon their head.

“Oh, do we have an ‘e-meow-gency’ on our hands?” he asked, nodding to the cat ears.

Ian’s eyes lit up. “You remember my emotional support cat ears!” They adjusted their glasses and looked Ben up and down. “Great to see you, b-t-dubs. Magic has decreed we need to have someone here at all times, so it’s my turn.” They turned in a circle, surveying the area. “Always a nutritious meal when you’re on the road, huh?”

Ben chuckled. “I’ll survive.”

“Listen, that asylum you’re headed to…” Ian’s face turned serious.

“Sam Beckett leapt there once as a patient, right? Addison told me.”

Ian nodded. “Did you also know that was fifty-six years ago to the day?”

Ben raised an eyebrow. “Really? Neat coincidence.”

“Neat? More like creepy. You know how hauntings work. It’s always ‘on this very day twenty years ago’ and suddenly there’s a homicidal ghost out for revenge.”

“I think you may be getting real life confused with campy horror movies,” Ben said with a grin. “Relax. It’s nothing but an old, crumbling building in desperate need of condemnation. Ghosts aren’t real.”

“Oh, now you’ve done it,” Ian groaned. “You’re not meant to say that. You realise now you’re going to end up the first one pushed out a window by unseen forces, right?”

Ben waved a hand over the painted van. “You know what happens on Scooby-Doo? They always find out the ghost was a crooked property developer. It’s a good lesson about Occam’s Razor—simplest explanation is usually the correct one. There are plenty of mundane reasons weird stuff happens, Ian. Remember the demon? Just a combination of hallucinogens and Janis Calavicci hacking into our Imaging systems.”

“Honestly, for most people, the ‘simpler’ explanation would have been a demon,” Ian mused. “Look, all I’m saying is that there are some weird things afoot. Stay on your toes, and maybe collect a few salt packets from the restaurant just in case.”

“Salt?”

“Ghosts hate salt. I think. It’s, I dunno, purifying or something.” Ian shook their head. “That’s what Jenn says, anyway—and she went through an occult phase as a teen.”

Ben rolled his eyes and took a step towards the restaurant, but paused when he spotted a familiar figure through the window of a phone booth by the parking lot. “Huh. I wonder who Iris is calling?”

“You want me to eavesdrop?” Ian asked, holding up the handlink and hovering a finger over it.

Ben pressed his lips together. “Hmm. Only if you can do it without her noticing.”

“Oh, you know how much I like to blend into the scenery,” Ian said, flicking one of their cat ears. “I’ll snap back to you at the first sign of being noticed, okay?”

Ian’s holographic projection folded up, then re-emerged by the phone booth.

*        *        *

Ian leaned their ear into the booth carefully. Iris was facing the payphone, one hand on the handset and the other clenched around the cord, her blonde locks obscuring her face.

“Yeah, I know, I know. Of course I’m paying attention. I’ve… got eyes on the back of my head, okay?”

Well jeez, I hope that’s just a figure of speech, thought Ian, staring intensely at the back of the woman’s head.

“Give me a little credit. Of course I know what I’m—would you relax? You don’t have to worry so much. It’s not like it’s my first—” She moved a hand to her forehead. “I don’t know where it went, that’s what’s so strange. Why do you think I had to use a payphone?”

A beat, as she ran a hand through her hair.

“No, it’s just—I feel like I’m being watched… I don’t know, maybe it is a ghost… hey, come on, it’s not that ridiculous… well anyway, if anything happens, you’ll know where I was going… I know it is, but I’m just gonna have to face it head-on, right?”

She leaned her forehead against the phone. “Yeah. I miss you too,” she murmured. With that, she hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and turned around.

Ian froze in place.

Iris licked her lips, taking a moment to let her eyes move across the parking lot, taking everything in. They finally came to a stop at Ian, though it was more like she was looking through them than looking directly at them. She placed a hand on the glass, her expression tense and nervous.

“If there really is somebody watching me,” she said, swallowing, “I hope you’re here to help.”

She stepped out of the booth, passing the open-mouthed Ian, and began making her way towards the restaurant entrance.

“We are,” Ian said quietly. If Iris heard it, she didn’t give any indication.

*        *        *

Loaded with bags of fast food, the crew returned to the van, where Ian was waiting in the back seat.

Ben gave them a token glance of acknowledgement as he got in and buckled in to his seat. Across from him, Iris took her seat, and began unwrapping her cheeseburger.

“So,” Ben said with attempted nonchalance, “I saw you call someone at the payphone. Who was it?”

Iris tensed up. “Just Aunt Mel. Letting her know we’ve left her house in good shape.”

“That wasn’t quite the conversation I heard,” Ian said in a low voice.

“Oh, okay,” Ben said, eyes darting to Ian for a second before he decided to busy himself with his own food. “How is she? Aunt Mel?”

“She’s good.”

“She’s in hospice,” Ian countered, “literally dying of cancer.”

“I mean… she’s as good as a dying lady gets,” Iris corrected, and took a bite of her burger, looking the other way.

Ben exchanged a look with Ian.

“Well, that’s a plus,” he mumbled, filling his mouth with french fries.

“I don’t know who she was talking to,” Ian whispered, “but Ziggy may be able to figure it out. I’m gonna go tag out with Addison.”

Ben gave a slight nod, as Iris turned to the back seat, squinting.

“Something wrong?” Ben asked nervously.

Iris rubbed her eyes as she glared at the seat where Ian sat, now stiff and unmoving, their eyes wide.

“I don’t know… I just keep seeing something in the corner of my eye. But when I look, nothing’s there. It’s been happening all day.”

“Don’t tell me Uncle Walter’s coming with us to the haunted asylum?” Ben said, trying to deflect the conversation to a lighter mood. He figured the more he made it a running joke, the less likely Iris was to start to feel like she was losing it.

Iris groaned, her mouth curving into an amused smile. “Just what we need. Introducing one ghost to a bunch of other established ones like the new kid in school.”

“Maybe they’ll bully him into giving us our phones back.”

Iris looked at him with a smirk, cheeks puffed out with food. “We can hope.”

“Wish I could join in this banter,” Ian muttered, passing the handlink to Addison, who now sat next to them in the van.

“We have banter at home,” she said, the tip of her tongue protruding between her teeth as she grinned.

“See you later Ben—hope you remembered the salt,” Ian whispered before dematerialising from the van.

Ben took a bite of his Quarter Pounder, and chewed thoughtfully, staring out the window. There was no logical reason he should have had such a foreboding feeling about where they were going, but… well, there was only so much he could rationalise away.

Ben turned his attention to the car stereo; in the front seats, Joey and Alex had begun singing along to Bad Romance by Lady Gaga.

Eventually, Ben began singing along too. In his periphery, he was vaguely aware that Iris wasn’t, but he thought nothing of it.

Chapter 7

Scientific Explanations

The van rolled through the gates of the old, dilapidated asylum, and Ben felt a shiver deep in his spine as he laid eyes on the old building and its overgrown surroundings. The fall had turned the foliage brown, with some trees stripped barren, a blanket of brittle leaves on the ground below. The building was run down, with exposed brickwork where paint had once been, and a layer of long built-up grime over everything. The large wooden double doors of the main entrance hung crooked on their rusty hinges.

“What a dump!” Alex announced, and turned to Iris and Ben, grinning. “It’s perfect.”

Ben quirked a token smile, and gazed out of the van, up at the old broken windows. He squinted, seeing something that looked like an all-white apparition in one of the upper windows, but decided it was almost certainly pareidolia—the human tendency for visual pattern-seeking. There was just as much a ghost in that window as there was a man in the moon, or the Virgin Mary in a grilled cheese sandwich.

Still, it would have made for good TV, he supposed.

“Hey, check out that window,” he said to Joey, pointing. “Upper floor, fifth from the left. There’s a figure. Probably drapes or dirt on the window, but…”

Joey put the car into park, pulled the handbrake, and peered up to the window.

“Oh, nice catch, G-man! Let me set up the camera real quick.”

As Joey set about putting his camera together, Ben climbed out of the van. Addison followed, though her exit was much simpler; she merely stepped through the van as if it wasn’t even there.

“Alright,” he announced to his fellow crew, grasping a notepad and pen from under his seat, “I’m going to go do a thorough safety inspection. Now remember: don’t go anywhere I haven’t checked, and only go where I’ve approved. Got it?”

“Got it, boss!” Alex said with a salute, but the smirk on his face suggested he might not have been taking it so seriously.

As Ben strapped his headlamp to his head and swung a messenger bag over his shoulder, Iris climbed out of the van, a nervous expression on her face.

“You gonna be okay in there by yourself?” she enquired. “What about your safety?”

“I’ll be alright,” Ben said, casting a quick look to Addison. I won’t be alone. “Just wait here and I’ll be back with a full report real soon.” He turned around and strode for the entrance.

The front doors were rickety, and Ben had to pull hard to get them to open properly.

“It really is a dump,” he muttered to Addison, who moved more freely into the building, looking around from the reception area inside. The linoleum floor was rotted away and covered in a layer of dirt. Some of the leaves from outside had found their way in, and littered the areas near broken windows.

But immediately inside the doorway, on the floor under some dust and leaves, was a great big pentacle someone had painted on the floor.

“Oh, now that’s just stereotypical,” Addison remarked.

The reception desk was splintered, which Ben marked down on his notepad.

“I’m gonna be busy, huh?” he said.

“Yeah. Not your picture of safety,” Addison agreed. “But listen, let me show you the stairs that are gonna collapse. This way…”

She proceeded down a hall, into a darker, windowless area of the asylum. Ben flipped on his headlamp as he followed.

Addison stopped at a particularly dark area, and gestured to a staircase that led up. “Here it is.”

“Okay. This staircase, off-limits. Easy.” Ben pulled a roll of gaffer tape from his bag and stuck a couple of pieces across the staircase, from the wall to the bannister, creating a sticky barrier. “Job done, right? I just need to point this out to Joey, and I can leap?”

Addison tapped away at her handlink for a moment. “Well, Ziggy gives that 99% odds, so… yeah. I guess.”

Ben watched her unconvinced face for a moment. “You’re worried about all the… the paranormal, ghostly stuff, aren’t you?”

“Shut up, no I’m not,” Addison said, laughing. Ben could see that it was forced. “I mean, it’s stupid, right?”

“Yeah, completely ridiculous,” Ben affirmed. “Nothing supernatural is going on.”

As if to contradict him, a loud bang came from the entrance, and an alarmed Ben took off towards the noise.

Addison had already materialised in the reception area when he arrived back there. She gestured to a door just behind the reception desk, that Ben knew had been open when they entered. “I think this door slammed shut,” she said, looking shaken.

“Nothing supernatural,” Ben reiterated, pushing on the door to open it again. “Just the Bernoulli Effect.”

“Right,” agreed Addison. “Whatever that is.”

Ben gestured to the open front doors. “My opening of these doors, combined with a hefty gust of wind from outside causing a change in pressure, must have caused a vacuum effect inside the building, resulting in the door getting pulled shut. It’s a principle of physics.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Addison said, arms crossed.

“If you’ve ever wondered how airplane wings work…”

“I can honestly say I never have, Ben.”

“Fine then,” Ben said with a chuckle. “Well, I did when I was nine.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Addison teased. “Now, let’s finish this inspection, huh?”

“Let’s.”

*        *        *

The sun was low on the horizon when Ben finished up his inspection, and returned to the waiting group.

Alex had a lavalier microphone clipped to his collar, and Joey was filming him, the menacing old building looming large in the background.

“We’re here at the old Havenwell Psychiatric Hospital to find out what mysterious secrets this abandoned asylum holds,” he said into the barrel of the camera. “It’s all part of our quest to find out the truth of whether or not restless spirits really do lurk in the darkness, seeking peace—or, perhaps, vengeance. Welcome to Haunter Hunters.” He paused a moment, before looking up to Iris, who was watching and listening to the audio through a set of headphones. “Cut. How was that?”

“Awesome. Very professional,” Iris said, raising a thumb and lowering the headphones from her ears. She turned to Ben with a smile. “Hey, welcome back. You sure took your time; were there that many hazards?”

Ben held up his notepad, which was now quite crowded with writing. “Oh, there were a ton. I would avoid touching most wooden surfaces due to splintering, and there’s this one staircase that looks like it could fall to bits at any minute.” His eyes fixed on Joey, and emphasised his next words. “I put tape across it. And I’m dead serious when I say don’t go on those stairs.”

Joey raised an eyebrow. “Why are you looking at me?”

“No reason. Alright, let’s go in. Just be careful. There’s some broken glass on the floor in parts, too.”

As the group headed in, Ben could hear the handlink making some noise. He shot a curious look towards Addison, who was looking down at the device with confusion.

“That’s weird,” she muttered.

Ben hung back outside the doors, letting the other three pass into the building. “What is it?” he whispered.

“Ziggy’s… confused.”

“Confused about what?”

“It’s saying Joey doesn’t fall through the stairs now, but the present-day status of Iris keeps jumping from alive to dead and back. What the hell…”

“How? Why?” Ben’s eyes were wide now.

“I… I don’t know.” Addison slapped her hand against the link. “But Ian turned up something else about Iris, it looks like. They traced the number she called… it redirected through five other numbers, and ended at a burner phone somewhere in Hawaii.”

Ben glared at her, incredulous. “What?”

“Who the hell is this woman, Ben?”

Chapter 8

Bump In The Night

“Check out the pentagram,” Alex said, gesturing to the symbol on the floor as Ben entered the asylum once again. “We can definitely work with this. Something about sinister Satanic rituals in the dead of night… that kind of crap.”

Joey already had his camera pointed at the marking, getting an artsy shot of dead leaves drifting across the ominous five-pointed star with the breeze.

Addison stood cautiously against the wall, watching Iris, who was standing off to one side, quietly looking down a corridor. Ben studied her face; she looked almost terrified.

Addison had decided to keep a close watch on her at all times, and Ben couldn’t really argue with that after what Ziggy was saying. The weird—and slightly maddening—thing was that Ziggy couldn’t seem to pinpoint what danger Iris was actually in.

“Iris? You alright?” he called out, causing the blond woman to snap out of her lost state and turn back to him with a forced smile.

“Huh? Oh—yeah! Yeah, no sweat.” She came closer to the group, hands in her jean pockets. “So what’s the plan?”

Alex stepped forward, taking charge.

“Right, people. We’re going to go from room to room, placing recording devices in each. We’ll pay particular attention to the rooms that are believed to be haunted. Greg and I will do a tour of the place together to start, and then each spend some time solo in the rooms, while Iris will hide out with the EMF emitter and cause a few paranormal happenings, making sure not to be seen by the camera.” He turned to Ben. “G-man, make sure to be engaging with the camera wherever possible, and—” he winked, “—don’t forget to squeal like a little girl.”

“You got it,” Ben said, internally cringing.

“And Joey,” Alex continued, “make sure you’re recording at all times, and monitoring the sound.”

“What am I, an amateur?” Joey asked, offended.

“Until we got the pilot grant, we all were,” Alex countered. “And we will be again if we don’t get this right.”

“Touché.”

“So let’s kick this thing’s ass, y’all.”

He held out a fist to each of the crew to bump, and when they were done, everyone jumped into action.

*        *        *

Ben and Alex stood in the dark mess hall, the only lights visible to them being beamed from their headlamps. It was cold in the large room, and Ben could feel a draught on his arm that made him shiver—the broken windows were beginning to bother him, now that it was night. He wondered if animals could have taken up residence in this place, and if they’d accidentally run into some fox or raccoon taking shelter in the building. He bit his lip, thinking that if his hand randomly touched something warm and furry, he probably would squeal like a little girl for real.

“Here we are in the mess hall,” Alex said to the camera, “where patients would come for their meals—unless they were in isolation. Reportedly, there’s a ghost named Bob who roams the ruins of this cafeteria, looking for one last meal. And unless you leave him a plate, he’ll pull your hair until you leave.”

Alex turned to Ben. “Want to do the honours?”

Ben shrugged, and held up his EMF meter, turning to the empty space behind him.

“Uh… hello! Bob!” he called out through the darkness, holding up a bag of chips and shaking it. “We’re here to talk! Are you here, Bob? We’ve got a snack for you if you show yourself to us…”

Across the room, a metal clanking rang out—a result of Iris hiding behind a table and hitting a metal tray against it. Ben reacted with the best look of terror he could muster, knowing that it was all mere fakery.

“Uh… Bob? Is that you?” he asked, wavering his voice as he inched forward.

“Hey Bob,” Alex called out, “if you’re really there, make that noise again!”

The sound repeated, and Ben and Alex looked at each other, mouths open, as the needle on their EMF meters spiked. They then turned to the camera.

“You heard that, right?” Alex said. Ben laughed nervously, nodding.

The two of them crept towards the noise, and finally the metal tray clattered to the floor in front of them, its reflective surface catching the light of Ben’s headlamp. Ben jumped back, crying out, and turned to run away. As he passed Joey, he slowed to a stop and turned around to see Alex holding the tray up to the camera.

“And, cut. That was perfect,” Joey commented. “Nicely done, everyone.”

Iris climbed out from her hiding spot, wiping her brow. “I feel like such a fraud doing this,” she muttered, dialling the emitter in her hand to its off position. “Is this really what TV’s come to?”

“Gotta give the people what they want,” Alex said with a shrug. “Who the hell tunes into a ghost hunting show where they find nothing every week?”

Ben laughed. “A ghost hunting show where they really try to figure out the truth behind so-called hauntings? Yeah, that wouldn’t last a season.” He shot a quick look at Addison standing in the corner, her holographic self-illumination making her a shade more visible in the dim light.

“Okay people,” Alex called out, slapping his hands together, “let’s move it along.”

Joey switched to visible light as the group moved out into the corridor. As Ben followed them out, Alex was waiting by another door, arms folded.

“Okay, this is the electroshock room,” he explained, tapping on the door. “Reportedly, some mega abuse went on in here from time to time. Orderlies went a bit trigger happy on the voltage.”

He opened the door, revealing a small room with broken tiles on the walls and a high window overlooking a hospital bed. The boxy old ECT machine sat on a table beside it, long since disconnected from a power source. He stepped inside and gestured to the bed.

“Iris, I want you to hide underneath the bed and give it just a hint of a shake when Greg goes to check it out,” Alex said, grinning.

Ben noticed that Iris was hanging back from the room, staring at the bed with wide eyes.

“Under the—under the bed?” she asked in a high voice.

“Yeah, I think you can fit,” Alex said, crouching to check it out.

Iris was silent for a moment, before she took a deep breath and went into the room.

“N-no sweat,” she said, despite visibly sweating. She climbed under it, and stared up at the underside, limbs stiff and breath uneven. “Let’s get this over and done with.”

“Okay—come on, guys, let’s set up the take,” Alex said, herding Ben and Joey out of the room and shutting the door. Ben nodded to Addison, who had taken up a spot in the room to watch Iris.

*        *        *

Addison lowered herself to the floor, keeping her eyes on Iris’s face. She seemed to be getting a little more nervous by the second, here on the grimey floor in this moonlit room.

Addison, knowing what had taken place here fifty-six years prior, wasn’t exactly thrilled about spending time here either. But at least she was technically not really there.

Iris grunted, shifting her position. “It’s only a few minutes,” she muttered. “No biggie. I’m fine. This place doesn’t scare me at all.”

She was lying, of course. A moment later, her head turned towards Addison.

Ugh—don’t move! the Observer told herself sternly.

“Are you enjoying watching me squirm?” Iris whispered into the darkness, eyes narrowing. “Whoever—whatever you are?”

Addison bit her lip, trying to decide whether or not to try and reassure Iris that she was trying to help. But no—that could easily just make things worse. Make her more suspicious, more secretive. And probably more terrified. She had enough fear in her eyes already. It clearly wasn’t an act.

“Oh god, I’m losing my mind,” Iris continued, placing a hand over her eyes. “I wish there was someone there. Then I wouldn’t be alone in here.”

She took a deep breath, and returned her gaze to the underside of the bed.

And then there was a noise.

The ringing of a cell phone.

Addison glanced around the room. Had someone left their phone in here? When would that have happened? Ben didn’t have one to lose (again) and neither did Iris. The other two hadn’t stepped foot in here until a minute ago, and they hadn’t touched the bed.

Iris, too, seemed completely caught off-guard by the sound.

Panic rising in her expression, she pulled herself out from underneath the bed, and followed the sound to the top side of the bed.

With a shaking hand, she pulled aside a stiff, filthy sheet that looked as though it hadn’t been touched in decades—and there it was. A phone, lit up and jingling.

It was Iris’s phone.

“What…” Iris dropped the sheet, and backed away from the bed, eyes like saucers. “No. No, no…” she spun around and burst out of the door, taking off past the three others who were filming just outside the room.

“Iris?” Ben asked, watching her tear away down the corridor.

“Ben, go after her,” Addison instructed, and he nodded, turning around.

“Wait, Iris!” he called, dashing off into the darkness.

Addison took a moment to look down at the phone again, which abruptly stopped ringing. It couldn’t have been here. It couldn’t.

Not knowing what else to do about that, she flicked at her handlink to centre herself back on Ben, and the environment changed to the darkness. A single beam of light from Ben’s headlamp showed Iris rounding a corner and—

“Wait, you put tape over those stairs!” she cried, realising that Iris was now stomping up the doomed set of steps, with the gaffer tape nowhere in sight.

“Iris, stop!” Ben shouted—at the same time a great big crash signified that the stairs had collapsed. “Oh, god…”

A painstaking moment of silence elapsed.

“Greg… help me…”

“Ben, be careful,” Addison warned as he let his light shine on the staircase, where several steps midway up were now a gaping hole into a black void.

But Iris was hanging on to the banister with one hand, half of her body dangling in the hole.

“My hand… my hand’s slipping,” she said, straining.

Ben extended his hand, taking a tight hold of the banister himself by curling his elbow around it. “Here, hold on to me with your free hand, okay? I’ll get you to safety, I promise.”

“Okay…” Iris said, and reached out her hand.

What happened next made Addison stumble back in confusion. As Ben and Iris linked hands, Iris changed.

And as Ben pulled and the two of them sprawled onto the still-intact steps, there were now two men there.

“Oh my god. Ben, that’s Sam Beckett!” Addison exclaimed.

Ben stared at the older man, mouth hanging open.

“Oh boy,” he croaked.

Chapter 9

Dead Man Running

The torchlight from Ben’s head illuminated Sam’s unmistakable face, making him squint as he scrambled to his feet.

How is this happening? Ben wondered, still speechless. Could Sam see him now too? But even if he could, he had a light shining in his eyes, and Ben was acutely aware how little he’d be able to make out in such a situation.

“Thank you,” Sam said, brushing himself off. “I’m sorry, I got a little carried away there…” He turned to the direction from which he’d come, looking off into the darkness. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on, but I just… I really need to get out of here.” He spoke with an edge of fear. “This place… it…”

He trailed off, and began walking away at a brisk pace.

“Ben, don’t let him go…” Addison said, her eyes fixed on the tall silver-haired man.

Ben reached out a hand. “Wait… Sam!”

The mention of his name made him freeze, and his head whipped back to Ben. “What did you just—”

“You’re Sam Beckett, aren’t you?”

Ben pulled off his headlamp, and aimed the light beam at his own face. “Do you see Greg, or… someone else?”

Sam’s mouth drifted open as he saw Ben’s face for the first time.

“Oh no…” he said, and began racing down the corridor again.

“Wait!” Ben cried, and gave chase. “I’m here to help!”

Sam ripped past Joey and Alex down the hall, who were still completely puzzled as to what was going on, and a moment later, Ben reached them, stopping abruptly.

“Sorry guys, she’s kinda freaking out,” he told them in a breathless, racing voice. “She nearly died a minute ago. I’ll handle it—you guys wait here.”

And with that, he continued running, catching sight of Sam exiting the building through the entrance and making a beeline for it.

“Wait, what do you mean she ‘nearly died?’” Alex called as he disappeared out the door.

*        *        *

Addison materialised in the van as she watched Sam running full pelt for the vehicle. For an old guy, he sure was nimble.

“Dammit,” she muttered, seeing the keys hanging in the ignition. Thinking fast, she opened a comms line on the handlink. “Hey guys, this is urgent. Initiate Imaging Chamber Protocol Sierra Bravo.”

“What?” came Jenn’s incredulous voice. “But isn’t that just for… wait, you didn’t—?”

“We did. He’s here.”

“Okay, we’re doing it,” Ian’s voice chimed in, and Addison’s ears filled with a piercing noise, followed by her eyes being scorched by a bright white light.

As Addison’s eyes adjusted, she looked at Sam, who was climbing into the driver’s seat. He stopped dead, his eyes finally looking directly upon her.

The Imaging Chamber signal had been expanded to a broader range, encompassing Sam’s brain wave signature, allowing him to see her clearly. This would cause a bit of power drain, but it was well worth it.

“Where did you…” he cut himself off, and reached a hand to her, seeing her flicker as his hand passed through her form. “So you’re the one who’s been watching me.”

He turned his head back towards Ben, who was puffing as he ran towards them.

“Doctor Beckett…” Addison said with a smile, “we’ve been looking for you for a long time.”

“I know.” Sam narrowed his eyes at her, slamming shut the van door and turning the key. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” He wrestled with the stick shift before reversing the van away from Ben.

“Where are you going?” Addison asked, frowning. “We want to help you!”

“Sure you do,” he said, adjusting the mirror as he turned the wheel, preparing to speed away. “Which is why you’ve been trying to kill me, right?”

“What?” Addison didn’t know how to respond to that. “How have we—?”

“I have to hand it to you,” he said as he proceeded to drive away from the asylum, down the long empty road into the countryside, “you had me going there, thinking there was a ghost watching me.”

He flicked a hand through her holographic form, as if to prove his point.

“Taking Iris’s phone and planting it in a bed you must know I associate with a traumatic experience, and then taking the tape off of the broken staircase for good measure.” He shook his head, chuckling bitterly. “I’m not a fool—I’ve put it all together. You just needed it to look like Iris was paranoid about ghosts and just… stumbled into misfortune in a fit of panic. I know how you people work. Manipulating, making people second guess themselves.”

“If that were true, why would we save you from falling through the stairs?” Addison asked pointedly.

“Well, I held on to the rail—maybe you saw I wasn’t going to get badly hurt, so you had to change your strategy.”

“Why would I be talking to you now?”

“Mess with my head. Make me trust you.”

Addison shook her head. “Sam, I don’t know who you think we are, but we’re trying to help people, not hurt them.”

Sam braked, pulling to the side of the road, and rubbed his hand over his face.

“Okay, so talk. Who are you?”

“My name is Addison, and the man back there—who, I reiterate, saved your life on the stairs—is my fiancé, Doctor Ben Song. We’re from the 2020s.”

Sam glared at her. “Okay, and am I to understand that you’re not associated with Lothos?”

“What’s Lothos?” Addison asked, squinting.

“The computer controlling the other project.”

“No—our computer is Ziggy.”

“Ziggy’s been decommissioned for years,” Sam countered.

“How do you know that?”

“This is 2010. You think I haven’t checked these things?” he pounded a fist on his steering wheel. “I know Lothos is built later, probably based on Ziggy. So forgive me if I’m extremely suspicious of you.”

“Wait, you’re talking about the other leapers in the old reports, aren’t you?” Addison said slowly. “Oh, what were the names… Zoey?”

“I think she’s dead,” Sam murmured, looking down into his lap. “There have been others since.”

“Seriously? No wonder you thought we were—but we’re not! Our project arose directly from the ashes of yours, under the auspices of Al Calavicci.”

“Al?” Sam asked, looking up at her with pleading eyes. “If you want me to believe you, show him to me. Bring him into your Imaging Chamber.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t,” Addison whispered. “He passed away.”

Eyes gleaming with moisture, Sam peered straight ahead over the steering wheel. “I see.” He took a long, shaky breath. “I told him he should quit smoking.” He leaned back against the seatback, and a couple of stray tears rolled down his cheeks.

Addison fought her own sense of grief, and continued.

“What if I brought someone in that was close friends with Al?” she suggested.

Sam frowned. “Do I know them?”

“Kind of.”

“Oh come on now, what is that supposed to mean?” Sam glared at her, eyebrows high.

“Well, does the name Herbert Williams mean anything to you?”

Sam furrowed his brow. “Should it?”

“Navy Seal? Nickname ‘Magic?’”

With this, Sam’s eyes widened. “No…”

“He’s the head of our project, Sam. And he restarted Project Quantum Leap with Al’s blessing, in the hopes of getting you home.”

Unexpectedly, Sam broke into a laugh. “‘Home’—now there’s a novel concept.”

“I’ll go get Magic, okay? Please, promise you won’t keep driving. Just until I get back. I’ll be five minutes.”

“Fine,” Sam sighed. “Five minutes.”

Chapter 10

Disclosure

Sam Beckett had been leaping for a very long time. Of course, since he couldn’t keep track of said time, he had no clue just how long it had been. But he knew he was getting old. His eyes weren’t what they used to be. He had joint pain. Leaping was getting harder all the time.

Not that it wasn’t rewarding. He relished it when he completed his goals and helped people—though without the help of Ziggy, that wasn’t easy; particularly in future eras he’d never actually lived through. But he did his best, and that was all God or Fate or Time could ask for, right?

But this leap felt like a big practical joke on him. Leaping in with a lungful of bong smoke was bad enough, but having to return to a place he never wanted to think about again, in the dark, with weird occurrences all over the place, and another leaper in the mix?

This was unbelievable. Was it all just a nightmare, like that one time with the devil goat? That would make more sense.

“My god, it is you,” came a deep voice beside him.

Sam softened his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, and he turned to the old black man in his neat grey suit.

“Doctor Sam Beckett. We meet at last,” the man continued, absent-mindedly extending his hand to shake.

Sam looked down at it, smirking. “Not used to this hologram thing, are you?”

Magic seemed to realise what he was doing, and chuckled, removing his hand. “Not as such, no.”

“How did you come to be here, doing this, Mister Williams?”

“Admiral Williams,” Magic corrected, “but call me Magic—everyone does.”

“Since the war, right?”

“Yes. You know that well enough, I guess.” He paused, making firm eye contact with Sam. “Sam, you leave an impression on people. Haven’t you ever wondered what people think after they come back to their lives and everything’s changed?”

“Of course I have—but it’s not like I get to see that.”

Well, he thought, for the most part that was true. It was a rare treat when he would be able to cross paths with a former leapee again. It was the closest he ever got to anything familiar.

“Well, when I came back, I couldn’t get your face out of my head. And when I finally got my hands on the Quantum Leap records, well I knew I had to do whatever it took to help you, like you help everyone else.” He twisted his body to better face Sam. “Look, I understand you’re having some, uh, difficulty believing we’re here in your best interest.”

Sam let his hands drop from the steering wheel to his lap. “It’s… been a long time since I’ve seen a friendly face. And I don’t know who I can trust.”

“But you’ve been in contact with someone you do, haven’t you?” Magic asked, stroking his chin.

Sam tensed up. “That’s a secret I don’t intend to give up freely.”

“We traced that phone call to Hawaii. I know you have family there, Sam. I’ve even met your sister Katie.”

“Damn. I knew using that payphone was a mistake.” He clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, cursing his sloppiness.

“I get it, you don’t want whoever it is to be traced to you. But we can help you. We can bring you back. Reunite you with whoever you’ve been speaking to.”

Magic leaned in to Sam. “You know, Al once told me a story. He said one day, just after the last time he saw you, he blinked and suddenly he had four daughters, and he was married to Beth again. Took him by complete surprise, he said. A whole life rewritten; and he knew it must have been you. He wanted desperately to thank you, but he never got the chance.”

Okay. So he knows about that. Maybe he really was Al’s friend.

“I… I know about Al’s daughters. Janis studied astrophysics… did she help you build the new machine?”

“No,” Magic said with a trace of regret. “Beth didn’t want her father’s obsession to be passed down to her, so she asked me not to take her on. Didn’t stop her getting involved in the end, though. She’s a tenacious one.”

“So… you’re in contact with her?”

That might change things.

“Yes, she helps out from time to time. I’ve recently come to realise that leaving her out of it was a mistake, truth be told.”

“I bet she made you regret it,” Sam said with a weak smile. “She’s a firecracker.”

“You say that like you know her.”

“Well…” Sam leaned his head back, pressing his lips together. “If it’s true you’re on good terms with her, why don’t you go ask her?”

Magic’s eyebrows rose. “Guess I’m going to have to now.” He waved a hand at the steering wheel. “So will you go back and talk to Ben? The man’s a pussycat compared to Janis.”

Sam snorted. Maybe this situation wasn’t so bad after all… but he wasn’t planning on blindly trusting these people. He’d been burned before. “Alright,” he said, taking off the handbrake, “I’m going.”

*        *        *

“Come on, Addison,” Ben muttered, pacing by the gate of the asylum, where a single street lamp cast a pool of light on the cracked road.

“Greg, what the hell happened? Where’s the van?” Joey called out, approaching from the main entrance.

“Uhh…” Ben bit his lip, “well, Iris drove it away.”

“Bro! You’ve gotta be kidding, right? Where the hell’s she going?”

Ben shook his head, scuffing his foot in the dirt. “I don’t know, but she hasn’t got her phone…”

Joey moved a hand to his belt, and gripped his walkie-talkie. “What about this?” He drew it to his mouth, activating it. “Iris, you there? Come in!”

There was silence for a moment, before a blast of static came out of it, and Iris’s voice.

“I read you, Joey.”

“Where are you going with the van, Iris?!”

Somewhere beyond the trees in the distance, the sound of the Ghostbusters themed horn blared.

“I’m on my way back. Can you tell Greg to hop in when I pull up? We just need to talk.”

“Sure thing…” Joey put the walkie-talkie down and met Ben’s eye. “She okay, man?”

“I don’t know,” replied Ben. “But I think we need to be alone for a little while. Can you tell Alex we’ll be back in there soon?”

And finally, a set of headlights appeared over a hill crest, driving steadily back towards the asylum. The van pulled up next to Ben, who got into the passenger’s seat, which was now vacant of any hologram.

Sam moved the van into a dark corner of the asylum block, and turned off the engine.

“Doctor Song,” he said. “I guess we need to talk.”

Sam held a hand out to Ben, who took it nervously and shook.

“Ben’s just fine. Can I call you Sam, or…?”

“Yeah.”

The next moment passed in silence, as the two doctors sized one another up.

It was Ben who spoke first. “So how did you do that thing… when I grabbed your hand and you started looking like you, instead of Iris?”

“Neat trick, huh?” Sam said, smiling weakly. “I don’t know how it works. That’s just what happens when two leapers touch.”

“Huh,” said Ben. “The only other time I’ve met another leaper, I saw their real appearance the whole time.”

“Really…” Sam cocked his head. “But not me?”

Ben shook his head. “Nope. I just knew you were acting… different. Come to think of it, Iris was pretty intimate with me at first, then she turned standoffish. Guess that must have been when you showed up.”

“You really didn’t know I was here before then? Even with your hologram watching me like a hawk?” Sam’s brows were high with surprise.

Ben shook his head. “Our system’s supposed to notify us if it detects another leaper. But it didn’t. I guess whatever way your leaps work… it’s different.”

“In that case… I’m sorry I ran away from you. I thought you were out to kill me.”

“You’ve got leapers out to kill you?” Ben pursed his lips. “Well, I can relate. We had one gunning for us. Wanted to stop our project from getting off the ground, and intended to kill us all in the process.”

Sam’s pensive gaze moved to the darkness outside the windshield. “Maybe it was a mistake, inventing time travel. Seems like it always ends up in the wrong hands.”

Ben placed a gentle hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Seems to me it’s in exactly the right hands.” After a pause, he added, “I’m talking about you, not me, in case that wasn’t clear.”

Sam snorted at this. “Thanks, I guess. It just feels sometimes like those other leapers are destroying things at a faster rate than I’m fixing them. That inevitably, it’s all going to unravel, like entropy… tearing history apart. And, well, I’m… not gettin’ any younger.”

“In that case,” Ben said, smiling, “it’s a good thing we’re here! You can pass the torch.”

Sam drank this in, a series of emotions passing over his face, ending in a sad smile.

“Magic said you built this version of the project in an effort to bring me home…”

“Well…” Ben scratched his head. “I don’t really remember much about that, but I’ll take his word for it.”

“Okay,” Sam said. “So what’s your plan to do that, exactly? It’s not like it hasn’t been tried. Lots of times.”

“Well, with you, me, and my team, surely we can figure something out. We’ve found you, and that’s step one, right?”

“Years ago, I made a decision not to return home,” Sam confessed. “I’ve rarely regretted it, because of all the good things I’ve done.”

He brushed a tear from his eye. “But nothing lasts forever, does it? Maybe it is time to stop.”

He unbuckled his seatbelt. “What are you here for, Ben? What does… what does Ziggy say you’re supposed to do?”

Ben frowned. “Originally it was to stop Joey from going on those stairs you nearly fell through. That’s why I was so adamant about them. But as soon as I took care of that, Ziggy started freaking about you potentially dying.”

“And then you saved me from the stairs…” Sam finished, brow furrowed. “But you didn’t leap. And that doesn’t explain why I showed up, either.”

Sam rubbed his chin. “Well, that leaves the field wide open. But look, whatever it is you have to do—as soon as it’s over and you feel a leap coming—you need to grab onto me. That way, we’ll leap together. Okay?”

“How do you know we will?”

“I’ve done it before.”

Ben nodded. “Well, okay. It’s worth a try.”

Sam smiled mischievously. “I think we’d better get back to the shoot, huh? Married couple alone in a parked van in the dark… the others might be getting ideas.”

“Are you going to be okay in there? I know that place must be tough for you… I heard about what went on.”

Sam licked his lips, avoiding Ben’s gaze. “Just… don’t make me go in the electroshock room again. The rest of it, I can handle. Even a collapsing staircase. But that room…”

“Deal.” Ben opened his door. “Let’s go, Iris.”

“Coming, Gregory.”

Chapter 11

Demon-Haunted World

“So what spooked you in there, anyway?” Ben asked as the two leapers made their way through the tall moonlit grass, back to the entrance of the asylum.

Sam looked up at the building, face ashen. “It was the phone I lost back at the house. Ringing. In the damn bed.”

“Wait, what?!” Ben held a hand out, stopping Sam from going further. “Who put it there?”

“Well, I thought it was you,” Sam replied, frowning. “When I saw you were a leaper, I figured all of this unexplained stuff was because of you, trying to mess with me.”

“Well it wasn’t, I promise!” Ben threw his hands up. “And I’m still missing a phone, too.”

The men exchanged a pensive look.

“Could it be Joey or Alex?” Ben suggested. “They seem like the practical joke type. Especially Alex.”

“Would a ‘practical joker’ take the tape off that staircase? Seems a little more sinister than that to me.”

“Are you suggesting…”

“Someone really is trying to kill me—or us?” Sam lowered his gaze to the leaves underfoot. “Well, that’s a possibility. We need to keep our eyes open.”

“I think I can help with that,” a third voice added.

“Addison,” Ben said with a relieved sigh.

“Glad to see you’re getting along,” she replied, grinning. “I’m getting Ian to adjust the Imaging Chamber’s visible spectrum, so I’ll be able to see a bit better in the dark. If anyone’s doing something suspicious, I should be able to see it.”

“Well,” Sam said, scratching the back of his head, “thank you, Addison.”

“Good to have an invisible friend, isn’t it?” said Ben.

Sam responded with a weak smile, softened by sorrow. “Yeah.” He looked between Ben and Addison for a moment, before adding, “So you’re engaged, and you left her to leap? Why?”

“It wasn’t exactly planned that way—there was a specific window of opportunity to do what I needed to do,” Ben said, eyes meeting Addison’s, “and I was supposed to be home by now. But I guess you know how well that works out, right?”

Sam licked his lips, nodding. “I guess I do.” He lifted his head. “We’d better go in.”

Ben swallowed as they entered the reception area, stepping onto the pentacle on the floor.

Joey and Alex were reviewing footage in the camera, and looked up from it as they came in.

“So what was all that about?” Alex asked, brow furrowed.

“Iris got spooked,” Ben said, “and she ended up on the stairs I explicitly said were off limits—”

“—because the tape was gone,” Sam finished. “And I was in a panic. I didn’t realise…”

“What the hell scared you?” Alex’s usual irreverence dissolved before Ben’s eyes, and turned to concern.

“My phone rang,” Sam said. “Which sounds stupid, but you know I haven’t seen it since last night. It was in the bed.”

“In the bed?!” Joey said, his face screwed up. “What the hell… is it still there?”

Sam nodded. “See for yourself. I’m staying the hell out of there.”

Ben followed Joey into the electroshock room, where they hunched over the bed, moving the stiff, filthy sheets around—there was nothing. Addison peered over Ben’s shoulder.

“It’s gone…” she said. “But it was there. I saw it, Ben. It was there, under the sheet, and it was ringing.”

“Did one of you guys take it?” Ben asked, eyes narrow. If they did, they were playing dumb. And that was pretty suspicious.

“No,” Joey said. “We were out in the hall the whole time. You’re sure Iris wasn’t imagining things?”

Ben shook his head. “You saw the look in her eyes when she came running out of there, Joey.”

Besides, if Addison saw it, it was there.

“Maybe the place is haunted,” Alex said, peering in the door. “Damn creepy. Whether it was really there, or she was seeing things, it’s spooky as hell either way, man. I don’t like this place.”

“Okay,” said Joey, “I think we need to get this shoot finished before we all get haunted or possessed or something.” This made Ben avert his gaze. “Keep your walkies close, and nobody freak out again. It was the panic that made it dangerous.”

“Right,” Ben agreed, and shot a look at Addison that said, ‘keep your eyes peeled.’ She seemed to understand, giving a thin-lipped nod.

*        *        *

Magic used a burner phone to call Janis—she was still paranoid about Ziggy. The phone only rang for a second before she picked up.

“If this is a scam caller, I’m running a trace on your number as we speak,” she said quickly. “Now, state your business.”

“Not a scam,” Magic said, stifling a chuckle. “I’ve got news that you’ll want to hear.”

“Hello, Magic,” Janis greeted. “News, you say? Unless you’ve got Ben back, or you’ve found Sam, or there’s a world-ending emergency, I’m not interested. I’ve got stuff to do.”

“Door number two,” Magic replied.

Janis was silent for a long moment, before finally saying, “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” The line went dead.

Twenty minutes later, almost on the dot, Janis was striding into Project Quantum Leap. Magic called Ian and Jenn into the conference room with her, and the group sat around the table. An electric feeling was in the air. This was a momentous occasion.

But Magic couldn’t stop thinking about what Sam had told him.

“So it’s really true?” Ian began, eyes on Magic. “We found him?”

Magic nodded. “It’s him.”

Janis leaned forward in her seat, elbows on the table. “What year?”

“2010,” Ian replied. “Why do you ask?”

Janis had pulled out a notebook, and was flipping through the pages. “October second and third—Pennsylvania?”

Jenn glared at her. “How the hell do you know—?”

“So you have been in contact with him!” Magic said.

“Peripherally,” Janis said, closing the notebook. “Well, except for one time in 2002.”

“Okay, you need to spill,” Jenn said. “What do you know, Janis?”

Magic couldn’t believe Janis had kept this information from him—had she also kept it from her father?

Janis held up the notebook. “This is merely a record of his use of the systems I set up for him to contact…” she closed her mouth.

“Who?”

“I promised to keep quiet about that. Let him tell you if he feels comfortable. The point is, I set up some secure communications for him to use during his leaps. In a way that wouldn’t put his loved ones or himself at risk. He’s been a bit of a target from certain factions.”

“And you did this in 2002?” Ian asked.

Janis nodded. “Of course, I’ve been updating them over the years. Improving them.”

“So,” Jenn said, “the multiple redirects to a cell phone in Hawaii…”

“Could have been better covered up,” Janis admitted. “But yes, I set that up. I also set up a secure server that he could get into through a computer or internet-enabled phone that would let him send and receive text communications.”

“But only to this person in Hawaii?” Magic asked.

Janis shrugged. “I won’t confirm or deny that.”

“Come on, Janis. Throw us a bone,” Ian said.

“It’s nothing personal.” Janis crossed her arms. “Here’s the thing you seem to be missing: anyone can be a leaper. You should get that by now, right? Anyone could be someone else, and there could be a hologram in any room at any time. Forgive me if I’m cautious, but knowing what I know, how could I not be?”

Magic leaned back in his seat. Well, she wasn’t wrong.

“My god,” Ian murmured, “you’re right. How can we live with that kind of knowledge and not feel like the world is against us? I mean, we saw it happen with Martinez and Magic. Nobody’s safe!” They slammed a palm down on the table. “We need to create some kind of detection system!”

“Oh, I’ve been working on a little something for a while now,” Janis said, “but I might need your input, if you’re up to it.”

“Oh, I am so completely in,” Ian said excitedly.

“As much as I think that’s a good idea,” Magic interrupted, “We’re here about Sam. Janis… what happened in 2002 that made you build this?”

Janis let out a breath, her eyes drifting upward. “Well, it all started when I was in high school…”

Chapter 12

Bad Mushroom Trip

August, 2002
Albuquerque, New Mexico

Janis melted down onto the desk, her head flopping onto the pile of homework in front of her. She needed a cigarette.

It wasn’t fair. Her feet hadn’t been on the desk. They were dangling off it. It was perfectly hygienic. But she’d argued with Mister Lopez about it, and that had been the impetus for sending her to detention. Was it not enough that she aced every math test without studying? Could he not cut her a little slack for raising the class average?

But here she was. Again. Among the other teens who’d talked back, or had been caught skipping school, or had simply forgotten to do their homework, probably for perfectly valid reasons. Detention was a total crock.

She too, didn’t always do her homework. She liked to keep her smarts on the down-low where possible. Besides, most school work was a snooze fest. What really interested her was something she couldn’t do from this classroom devoid of computers.

A tap came on her shoulder. Janis looked up to see another guy—a senior, he must have been. Broad shoulders, probably on the football team. Not that she cared even a little about sports.

“What?” she said flatly. She wasn’t particularly interested in chitchat.

“You’re Janis Calavicci, right?” the boy said.

“Who wants to know?”

“Name’s Brad Hayes.” He leaned in to her, whispering. “Word is, you can hack into any email account.”

Janis raised an eyebrow. “Where did you hear that?”

“Just through the grapevine. It’s true though, isn’t it? How would you like to make fifty bucks?”

“Not interested.”

Brad thought for a moment, before adding, “You ever tried shrooms?”

Janis perked up. “Can’t say I have…”

“A hundred bucks, and the trip of a lifetime. But it’s time sensitive—you gotta do it before Monday morning.” Janis could see a desperation in his eyes that suggested this wasn’t just for kicks.

“Hmm,” Janis said, sitting up. “Not that I’m agreeing necessarily, but… what exactly do you want me to do?”

Brad cupped a hand over her ear. “Kelly Martin snapped a photo of me… kissing Todd Wakefield. I managed to get a hold of the picture, but she already scanned it into her computer, and now she says she’s emailed it to my Dad’s work email. I need it deleted before he sees it.”

Janis raised her eyebrows. “Why didn’t you say so? I would have done that for free.”

Janis couldn’t stand Kelly Martin.

“A promise is a promise,” Brad whispered. “So you’ll do it?”

Janis nodded, grinning. “Leave it to me.”

*        *        *

Later that night, Janis logged into MSN Messenger, and opened a chat with Brad.

The photo is gone.

rly?

Gone from your Dad’s email. Gone from Kelly’s email. And, if I did everything right, it will soon be gone from Kelly’s computer, too.

ru srs? how???

I don’t make it a habit to talk openly about my methods. B-)

omg thank u xx

np

Now, I believe I was promised the trip of a lifetime?

meet me @ my place tomorrow 5pm ;-)

dont eat too much b4

You got it.

“Janis, are you still up? It’s past midnight…” Mom was peering at her through a crack in the bedroom door.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” Janis retorted, rolling her eyes. “What do I need to be up for?”

Beth sighed. “Well, don’t be on there too much longer? I worry about how much time you spend on that computer.”

Janis smirked. If she knew what Janis did with a computer, she’d probably be more than just a little worried.

“It’s alright, I was just logging off,” she said, and closed out of the various programs she had open, where she had programmed the trojan that would be finding its way to Kelly’s computer the next time she opened her emails.

It was a good day’s hacking all around, really.

*        *        *

Janis knocked on Brad’s door, clutching her cell phone in one hand and a jacket in the other. She was nervous. She’d had no experience with psychedelics before, but she’d done a boatload of research about magic mushrooms in the past twelve hours or so. The only thing she didn’t know was what effect it would have on her.

When the door swung open, an older man stood there.

“Oh… Mister Hayes. Hello,” she said, making an assumption that proved correct.

“Oh, hi. Brad didn’t mention he was having a girl over,” said Owen Hayes, Brad’s father. He was built similarly to his son, except he was wider and a little shorter. Built like a brick, Janis thought. His demeanour, however, was surprisingly friendly.

“Oh,” Janis said awkwardly, “well, he did invite me.”

Owen raised his hands. “Hey, if he wants a girl over, I’m not going to get in the way.” He turned his head. “Brad!” he called out, then turned back to Janis, lowering his voice again. “What was your name?”

“Janis.”

Owen turned back again, shouting, “Janis is here!”

From somewhere deep in the house, a faint voice called back, “Coming!”

Owen stepped aside, gesturing for Janis to come in. She entered into the large living room.

“Listen,” Owen said, “I’ll happily stay out of your way, but if you—uh—get up to anything… make sure you use protection, okay? I keep some condoms in the medicine cabinet.”

Janis felt her cheeks flushing. Knowing what she knew, there wasn’t much likelihood of anything like that happening. Especially not with shrooms in the mix.

“Uhh, sure thing Mister Hayes.”

“Good. Stay safe.” He winked as Brad entered the room.

“Hey, Janis!” Brad said. “Ready to get your ass kicked by—” Janis widened her eyes, “—me at Smash Bros?”

Janis chuckled. “Ah, you’re on! I’ll wipe the floor with you.” She cracked her knuckles, and Brad led her out to a detached room in the back of the lot, next to an in-ground pool.

“Well this is my sanctuary,” Brad said. “I’ve had many a trip back here.”

“I take it you have a good time?”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Brad grinned. “Ego death is something special, Janis. Just you wait.”

He prepared her some herbal tea, with enough aromatic spices to mask the taste of the mushrooms.

“Bottoms up,” he said, clinking mugs with her.

“Happy trails,” Janis said, and the both of them chugged the tea.

*        *        *

“Wait a sec,” Ian interjected, “how do we get from you doing mushrooms to you meeting Sam? Not that I’m not hanging on your every word, of course.”

Ian pointedly evaded Magic’s eyes.

“I’m getting to it,” Janis reassured them. “Believe me, the mushroom trip is basically the eye of the storm.”

“Well I can’t wait to hear this,” Jenn said, leaning forward, gazing with amusement at Janis. “Oh, and nice work sticking it to the homophobe.”

Janis winked. “She deserved it. I’ll give you one guess who she voted for in 2016.”

“Moving right along,” Magic said, gesturing for Janis to continue with her story. “You were about to tell us more about your illegal activities.”

“Hey, statute of limitations is long up,” Janis said. “But yes, it was quite the journey.”

*        *        *

Janis and Brad did, in fact, play some Super Smash Bros Melee until the two of them began to lose the ability to understand their controllers properly. The Nintendo would be on pause for the remainder of the evening.

Giggling, they lay back on Brad’s sofa bed.

“How are you feeling?” Brad murmured.

“Like half of me is off in space,” she replied. Her head was buzzing and she had a sensation of floating. And she couldn’t stop thinking about being on a planet that was spinning at a thousand miles an hour while simultaneously traversing its orbit of the sun at 67 times that speed. And she could almost feel it moving at that pace. “You?”

“I just feel thankful.”

“Of what?”

“You being in detention yesterday. Seeing you there, it was like fate.”

“Fate…?”

“You saved me from my Dad finding out I’m gay. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there. The one person that could help.”

“Oh.”

If he said any more, Janis didn’t notice. She had begun to drift away mentally to another place. A place where a series of coincidences and interventions and being in the right place at the right time changed everything.

Like she was ascending a tree, which branched out in an infinite fractal of possibilities.

The way time wove a path through the possibilities. The way cause and effect led back through an unbroken chain. The way she only existed through a series of unlikely occurrences that led to her own birth.

She traced it back through her life, this thread, and as she followed it, it began to disappear behind her. And, in a terrifying moment, she thought she was dead.

No, not dead. Unalive. Like the state of non-existence that came before conception. Like she hadn’t experienced life at all. Like she wasn’t meant to be.

Opening her eyes, she felt like she was suffocating, and managed to find her way out of the room and into the cool night, where millions of stars glittered above her in colours she hadn’t thought possible. But they weren’t for her; she wasn’t alive, and this beauty was only allowed for real people.

She fell to her knees, weeping with grief. Mourning a life she couldn’t have lived, because… because her parents never had her. She didn’t understand why she knew this for a fact, but it seemed as obvious to her now as one plus one.

What did that equal again?

As she sobbed, she became aware of a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey, are you alright…?”

She looked up, and the one standing there was—she couldn’t understand his face for a moment, as it seemed to morph before her eyes. But when she blinked, it crystallised.

Uncle Sam?

It was like a switch in her mind flipped. In that moment, she knew she was real. She was alive. But she also knew that it was only because of Uncle Sam Beckett, her father’s friend from work, who she hadn’t seen in seven years. He was the key. He was the only one keeping her alive.

“Do you need me to call your parents?”

She clutched his arm. “No… Sam… please don’t tell Dad…” she said, or at least hoped she was saying. She wasn’t at all sure whether she was speaking aloud, and if she was, she didn’t know if she was making sense. “Don’t tell Dad I’m on drugs, Sam…”

Sam was quiet for a moment, studying her. “Do you want to come into the house? I can get you some water.”

The only thing Janis could think right now was that she couldn’t let go of Sam, or else she might stop existing.

She nodded. She would accept water, or anything at all, as long as she could keep holding his arm. “Don’t tell Dad, Uncle Sam,” she said again, grasping his arm more tightly.

“Uncle…?” Sam mumbled, leading her into the house. “Why are you calling me that?”

But Janis didn’t know how to answer that question. The only thing in her head was the need to keep that grip on Sam so she wouldn’t disappear.

It was a long, harrowing few hours for Sam, Janis would later realise. But by the time Janis began to come to her senses, he had put two and two together.

“Janis… Calavicci?”

Chapter 13

There But for the Grace of GTFW

“Hang on,” Jenn cut in, “Was Sam a hallucination or was he really there?”

Janis chuckled, her cheeks flushing. “He was really there.”

“And he gave you magic mushrooms?” Ian said, squinting in confusion.

“What? No!” Janis said with a raised eyebrow. “He wasn’t Brad, he was Brad’s father. But at that point in my trip, I had no idea what was going on. I just saw him there, and I was convinced he was the entire reason I existed. Which, ultimately, turned out to be correct.” She locked eyes with Magic. “Isn’t that right?”

“I wasn’t aware you knew about all of that.”

Ian and Jenn stared at the two, mouths hanging open.

“What do you mean…?” Jenn asked.

“In the original history,” Janis said, crossing her arms, “My mother had my father declared dead while he was a POW. She married another man, and Dad came home from Vietnam to a broken life. My sisters and I were never born. That is, until Sam changed things.”

“And shrooms made you see the old timeline?” Ian’s eyebrows were high.

Janis shrugged. “That’s one way to interpret it. I’ve made a point never to do psychedelics again. It wasn’t exactly a positive experience for me.”

“Okay, so you saw Sam for who he was while you were tripping,” said Jenn. “What happened when you sobered up? Did you still see his face?”

Janis nodded. “It was like the spell was broken, so to speak. I couldn’t see anyone else, even as all the hallucinations cleared. Even as he started to look more like the other guy—I can’t really explain it. I was seeing the shape of Brad’s father, but it was like I could see past it. It was just Sam.”

*        *        *

Janis opened her eyes, finding she’d fallen asleep on the couch. Sunlight was bathing the living room. What time was it?

“Are you feeling better?” asked Sam, concern etched into his face. He was sitting forward, elbows on his thighs and hands clasped in front. “You didn’t have such a good night, did you?”

Janis stared at him, transfixed. “Uncle Sam…”

Sam frowned. “I think you’ll find my name is Owen. You were just hallucinating.” He looked away from her gaze.

Janis sat up. “No. I wasn’t.” She rubbed her eyes. “Oh my god. Where have you been since I was nine?!”

Sam was a combination of bewildered and worried. “You really… you really still see…”

Janis rubbed her eyes again and squinted. “Yeah. And I don’t really understand. Why are you Brad’s father…? How?”

“Oh boy,” Sam muttered, standing from the recliner and crossing to her. He took a seat next to her. “It’s a long story. But I need to know you’re okay first. You were in a bad state last night. What did you take?”

“Psilocybe cubensis,” she said matter-of-factly. “I did my research. It was safe to ingest.”

Sam pursed his lips. “Well, it may not have harmed you physically, but…” he held up his arm, which was covered in scratch marks from where Janis had been clinging to him the night prior.

“Sorry… I guess I had a bad trip.” She clutched her head. “It was like I’d gone back in time and found out my parents never had me. And for some reason I was sure you were keeping me in existence. That’s why I couldn’t let go of you.” She laughed. “I guess that’s pretty weird, now that I think about it.”

Then again. She recalled a thing Sam used to do with a length of string. His theory of time travel. And Sam was a genius. If anyone could have managed to go back in time and change things…

“Yeah… weird,” Sam said with a strange expression on his face. He looked out the back sliding door towards Brad’s studio. “Brad’s still sleeping. I checked up on him last night, and he was completely out of it too. You really need to be careful with drugs, Janis. Anything can go wrong.” He gestured to the pool outside. “You could have fallen in there and not known which way was up, you know?”

“I can take care of myself,” Janis said, feeling suddenly quite defensive.

Sam held up his arm. “With the way you were clawing at my arm last night, I’m not sure you’re as independent as you think.”

“You’re not gonna tell my Dad about this, are you?” she asked, recalling she’d made that request numerous times the previous night.

A look of grief passed over Sam’s face. “No, I won’t tell him. As long as you don’t tell him about me.”

“What? Why? I know he’d love to see you.”

Sam shook his head. “I can’t. I made a choice, and seeing him—I think it’ll be too hard for both of us. I gave him what he needs. That was my parting gift to him.”

*        *        *

“He didn’t spell it out, but I eventually worked out what he meant by ‘parting gift,’” Janis explained. “That he’d gone back and told Mom to wait a little longer for Dad to come home. And that had changed his life, and brought me into existence.”

“Damn that’s heavy,” Ian mumbled.

“So you had a pact of secrecy…” Magic said. “And then you set up the communications for him?”

“At first, I just set him up a secure email address that he could use to contact anyone he wanted,” Janis said. “Because he didn’t have a hologram any more, I figured he should still be able to bounce ideas off of somebody out there. But he had me adapt it to be much more secretive, and only to a single contact, who I still won’t name. Turned out he was worried about Lothos finding it. Even I wasn’t able to see his communications.”

She held up the notebook. “These are my only records. I get a timestamp and general location where it was accessed from, which I delete from the server after I’ve written it in here. I keep this in a secret location too and I will burn it if it comes to that.”

“For anyone else, I’d say that’s paranoid,” Jenn said, grinning. “But for you, it’s par for the course.”

“It’s a dangerous world out there for Sam,” Janis said, leaning back. “And anyone he comes to rely on. That’s why he wanted to keep me out of it as much as he could.”

Magic frowned. “Did you ever tell your father about this?”

“I did, when I heard this project was getting started.” She smiled wryly. “It only made him more determined to bring Sam home, so he could smack him one for leaving him out of it.”

“Hey, listen—I know this is largely irrelevant,” Ian interrupted, “but what had Sam leaped into Brad’s father to do?”

Janis smiled fondly. “I helped him figure out it was to help Brad come out of the closet. He’s married to Todd now, and his Dad is fully supportive.” She sighed. “The day Sam leapt out of Owen is one of the more bittersweet days of my life, because it’s the last time I ever saw him.”

“Until today,” Magic said. “How would you like a turn in the Imaging Chamber?”

Chapter 14

Who You Gonna Call?

“Okay, I think that’s a wrap!” Joey called out, as he switched off his camera and hoist it off his shoulder. “Finally. Can’t wait to get out of this craphole. My neck is killin’ me.”

“Well, we’ve still gotta collect all the EVP recorders and check to see if we left anything else lyin’ around,” Alex said. “Let’s split into two groups and sweep each wing inwards to the middle.”

Ben grasped Sam’s hand. “I’m with Iris,” he said quickly.

“No duh,” Alex teased. “Now, let’s get a move on.”

The two pairs went in opposite directions down the long corridors.

“I’ll follow the others, check for suspicious activity,” said Addison, before looking down at her handlink. “Oh, great. Thanks a lot, Magic.” She rolled her eyes. “I guess you’ll have someone to keep you guys company. Janis is coming in.”

At this, Ben and Sam spun around.

“Janis?” Sam murmured. “In your Imaging Chamber?”

Addison nodded, but didn’t look pleased about the development.

Ben took a step towards her, hand extended. “Listen, Addison. I know you guys didn’t get off on the right foot,” he said, “but she helped me save your life. I don’t remember that much about her as a person, but I do remember she was committed to our goal, and I trusted her. Give her a chance.”

Ben became aware that Sam was watching him intently.

“Well, I’m sure we can hug it out later,” Addison said flatly. “For now, I’ve gotta go do my job. Have fun with her.” With that, she tapped her handlink and vanished.

A moment later, Janis materialised in her place, facing the other way and holding a secondary handlink. She turned, taking in the spooky surrounds, and finally her eyes landed on the pair of leapers.

For a moment, she stood speechless. She raised a hand to her mouth, blinking back tears.

“You look so much older,” she squeaked, stepping towards Sam.

“I’m not the only one,” Sam said, looking her up and down with wonder. “Look at you… what are you—” he squinted, “—2023… thirty-six? Thirty-seven?”

“Thirty-six for now,” she said quietly.

“I’ve checked in on you occasionally,” Sam continued. “You’re brilliant, you know. Your Dad must have been so proud.”

Janis looked down. “Yeah. He told me all the time.” Brushing off her grief, she turned to Ben. “Hey, Ben. Nice to finally talk without you leaping away immediately.”

Ben chuckled. “And yet, you still managed to show up while I’m scared out of my wits.”

“Speaking of which,” Sam interjected, “We have a little work to do before we can leave this godawful place behind for good. Let’s get a move on.”

The three continued down the corridor to the room at the end, which was a padded room. The door had a little viewing window, like the occupant was some kind of zoo animal. It gave Ben the creeps.

He and Sam entered the room, shining their headlamps around, as Janis passed through the wall behind them.

“Uncle Sam?” Janis said in a quiet, restrained voice. “My Dad… he really missed you. I know he would have died satisfied, if only he’d got to talk to you one last time.”

Sam paused, and turned to her with red-rimmed eyes. “I’m sorry, Janis.”

“But you still could…” Ben said slowly. “It’s 2010. He’s alive. You could call him, Sam.”

“It’s not safe,” Sam said, shaking his head, bending down to collect the audio recorder positioned in the centre of the floor.

“Wait…” Janis said. “With me here… I can walk you through making a fully untraceable VoIP call through my secure servers. We can do this, Sam. You just need to get to an internet-connected computer.”

Ben stepped inside the room, grinning. “Maybe that’s why we’re here, together like this.”

The dawning hope on Sam’s face was interrupted by the door of the padded room slamming shut without warning, making all three present flinch.

Ben turned to Sam, mouth open, trying to find his way to forming words.

Sam’s brow crinkled. “Bernoulli effect… right?”

“Yeah. Just what I was thinking,” Ben said, trying to banish the worry from his voice.

He reached for the door handle—there wasn’t one. The door wasn’t made to open from the inside.

“Oh boy,” Sam said.

Ben pushed at the door. Nothing. He kicked at the door. It wouldn’t budge.

“Dammit,” he grunted. “The place is falling apart and we happen to get locked in the one part of it that’s structurally sound.”

Sam reached for his belt, and detached his walkie-talkie. He flicked the on/off switch a few times, before smacking it on the side.

“It’s dead…” he said, alarmed. “Is yours—?”

Ben was already fiddling with his, and the same thing was happening. No response.

He became aware that the needle of his EMF meter, also attached to his belt, was moving wildly.

“This isn’t happening…”

“What the hell?” Janis said, eyes wide. She looked down at the handlink she was holding and began swiping on it. “I’m gonna go tell Addison what’s happening. Sit tight.”

She dematerialised from the room, leaving Ben and Sam alone in silence.

“You, uh, think it’s Uncle Walter?” Ben attempted to joke, but it didn’t make Sam laugh.

Sam sat himself on the filthy padded floor. “I’ve never seen this room before, but it’s giving me a bad feeling. A lot like I felt in the electroshock room.”

He wrapped his arms around his knees and buried his head in them as he attempted to calm his breathing. It wasn’t working.

Ben sat beside him, placing a hand gently on the man’s upper back. “Do you… do you think there is something unexplainable going on?”

“I don’t know,” Sam admitted. “It wouldn’t be the first time something happened that I couldn’t explain. But why did it have to be here?”

“Sam… what happened to you here, exactly?”

“I don’t want to relive that,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t…”

“Alright, I won’t force it. Just… deep breaths, okay?”

In Ben’s periphery, he saw the EMF meter spike again, and a moment later, he felt something vibrating under him. He placed a hand on the cushioned flooring and felt a distinct buzzing coming from somewhere under the surface.

“Do you feel that?” he asked Sam, but it was clear by the look on his face that he did. He joined Ben in feeling the floor, and their hands converged on the strongest point, where there was a tiny, frayed rip in the surface.

They looked at one another, silently asking the other if they dared tear up the padding to see what lay beneath.

Finally, it was Ben that made the move. He plunged his fingers into the opening and pulled, ripping up foam and rubber.

And there, in a place it should—could never have been, was Iris’s phone again, vibrating among the stuffing.

“Oh, hell no…” Ben said, jumping back from the unbelievable discovery.

Sam was shaking his head, scrambling back against the wall. “No… why won’t it leave me alone…”

Ben shoved a hand in his pocket, fingers closing around a fistful of McDonald’s salt packages.

“Ghosts—um—hate salt, right?” he asked Sam, who just looked at him without comprehension of the question. “Well, I guess we’re about to find out.”

Chapter 15

Salt in the Wounds

If Joey and Alex had been playing a prank, or worse, Addison thought, they were hiding it well. The pair of them were just going about their business. Nothing out of the ordinary.

So what was going on?

Addison turned her attention to her handlink. Surely Ziggy had some suggestion.

Okay, 93% likelihood that Ben and Sam need to get to the bottom of the weird occurrences. 43% possibility that Alex is the culprit, and 22% that it’s Joey. Chance of a hidden accomplice running around that I’ve somehow missed is 37%.

Chance that it’s a ghost… 24%. That’s higher than I would have expected, coming from a computer.

“Addison!” Janis’s voice cut through her train of thought. Addison looked up from the handlink to see her rival staring at her with alarm. She suppressed her initial feeling of annoyance upon seeing how serious Janis seemed to be.

“What is it…?”

“The door of a padded cell slammed on Ben and Sam and they can’t get out,” Janis said, frantic. “And their walkie-talkies are dead so they can’t call for help.”

“Oh my god, I hate this leap,” Addison said, and used her handlink to transport both of them to Ben.

When the padded room faded into view, both Ben and Sam were sprinkling salt from McDonalds packages on the floor.

“Uh… what have I missed here?” Janis asked, completely baffled, as Addison caught sight of some ripped up padding on the floor, with Iris’s phone nestled inside.

“Is… is that…?”

“Sure is,” Ben said, kneeling in front of the perplexing discovery. “It was literally under the padding. I have no idea how it could have got there, and it’s got me a little on edge. Ian told me Jenn said ghosts don’t like salt. So…” He ripped open one of the packets and dumped it into the opening in the floor.

“Why would Jenn know that?” Addison asked, confused.

“Ian said she went through an occult phase. I dunno! Better safe than sorry, right? I’m running out of scientific explanations here.”

As this conversation had progressed, Janis had moved to Sam, who was looking more than a little shaken.

“You okay?” she asked him.

“Pretty far from it,” he mumbled as he emptied his last salt packet in front of him. “But at least it’s the right kind of room to lose my mind in,” he added drily.

“We’ve gotta get out of here, Addison,” Ben pleaded. “Any ideas? The door won’t budge.”

“Have you tried both kicking it at once?” Addison suggested.

“We can try, but the padding will absorb most of the impact. I already tried kicking it myself, and my foot just bounced off.”

“Wait, wait—” Janis said. “There’s literally a phone right here. Can’t you use it?”

Ben stared at the phone for a moment. “Huh.”

He reached into the hole, and pulled up the phone. As he did, he paused, looking down into the cavity.

“What is it?” Addison asked.

“I don’t know…” he muttered, and pulled some of the stuffing out of the hole. “I think there’s writing.”

He held the phone to Sam. “Can you check this, I just…”

Sam stared at the phone a moment, before extending a trembling hand to it. As his fingers closed around it, he flinched as though it was going to start ringing again. But nothing happened. His tense look softened, and he drew the phone to himself. Ben returned to digging around in the padding, tearing more of the rubber.

As the writing was revealed, Addison’s mouth fell open, and Sam lost his grip on the phone.

“Oh boy.”

In black marker, the phrase: “My name is Sam Beiderman” was written.

And as Ben pulled away more of the padding, the phrase appeared over and over, scrawled on the floorboards haphazardly.

Ben and Janis exchanged a look of puzzlement.

“Who’s Sam Beiderman?” they asked in unison.

Addison opened her mouth to answer, but was abruptly cut off by the hologram around her glitching and filling with static, before fizzling out completely, leaving her and Janis in the Imaging Chamber.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” she shouted in frustration.

“Hey,” Janis said, raising her hands defensively, “I promise it wasn’t me this time.”

*        *        *

As the two holograms flickered and vanished, a terrified Sam grabbed for the phone at his feet, only to find it was gone. Again.

How was this happening? It had to be a horrible nightmare, surely. This was all too unbelievable.

Sure, as unbelievable as God having a day job as a bartender.

“Ben, the—” he began, before losing his voice when he realised Ben was nowhere in sight. He was alone in the room. “Ben…?”

He crossed to where Ben had been tearing up the padding, and looked down at the writing.

Had Sam Beiderman written this? Why? When?

Sam dropped to his knees and tore more of the padding away. The writing kept going. The same phrase, over and over.

But when Sam ripped up one more piece, he was alarmed to see something else.

“My name is Sam Beiderman BEN SONG.”

“Oh my god… what…”

He stood, stumbling backwards and clutching at the wall to steady himself. But as his body impacted the soft wall, his eyes filled with a sudden bright light.

As he blinked, his blurred eyes slowly brought his surroundings into view, and he saw that he was still in the padded room. But now it was lit up and clean. Newer. The hole in the floor was gone, and he could feel the floor on the soles of his feet. What happened to his shoes?

He rubbed at his eyes, still trying to adjust to the change in lighting, and looking down he noticed he was wearing a hospital gown.

This has got to be some kind of delusion, or hallucination, right? I’ve finally lost it, here in the padded cell. How on-the-nose.

In the window of the door, a woman’s face appeared. Sam glared at the face that he was sure he recognised. A nurse?

“Mister Beiderman, it’s time for your therapy session. Will you be cooperating today?” her voice was tired and flat, as if she didn’t usually receive a positive answer to this question.

Sam bit his lip. “Uh. Sure thing,” he said slowly.

The nurse’s expression brightened. “Oh, am I ever glad to hear that.”

The door opened, and Sam stepped forward cautiously, studying the woman. Yeah, he had definitely met her before. Nurse… what was it… Nurse Chatam? She looked older, but he was sure it was her.

She’d been around the whole time during that terrible leap, but she wanted to help. She’d reluctantly administered that last shock; the one that set his mind back into place.

Sam shivered, and silently walked up to her, his eyes darting around, trying to find signs that this was just his mind playing tricks on him, or some kind of horrid dream.

“Right this way, Sam,” the woman said, gently taking hold of his hand. “I’m glad you’re lucid today. Doctor Masters will be pleased.”

Oh boy.

Chapter 16

History Repeating

Well, that’s definitely not Joey’s camera, Ben thought as he squinted, adjusting to the sudden daylight. He was no longer kneeling on the floor, but sitting in a chair facing an old fashioned film camera. On a table in front of him sat a microphone, and beyond the camera stood a man in a lab coat, clipboard in hand.

It hadn’t felt like he’d leapt, but there was really no other explanation, was there? So much for bringing Sam home.

The man behind the camera, obviously some sort of doctor, was looking at him expectantly.

“Well?”

Ben grimaced. “Uh. Well what?”

The man scribbled something down before answering. “Well—state your name.”

Oh, we’re off to a great start on this one, he thought. And it looks like another old hospital. Just my luck.

“My name…” he mumbled, filling in for time. “Well, you must already know that…”

The Doctor frowned, jotting down more on his clipboard. “Mister Beiderman, just answer the questions, would you? We’ve been through this enough times.”

Ben’s eyes widened at the name. Beiderman—like what was written on the floor? Oh, what is the deal here?

“Now, shall we try again? Please state your name.”

Ben cleared his throat. “Uh… Sam Beiderman?”

“Good,” the doctor said, continuing to write.

So it was true, then. He’d somehow gone from discovering this patient’s scribblings to leaping right into him. How the hell did that happen?

“And what’s the current year, Mister Beiderman?”

Come on, give me a break.

Ben looked around for context clues. The camera had to be from some time in the mid-20th century, but he didn’t know enough about vintage cinematography to know for sure. The doctor’s clothes weren’t much help. Lab coat, shirt and tie, black trousers.

“Uh… nineteen… fifty…” he studied the doctor’s face for confirmation. So far, no alarm bells. “…ff-five?”

The doctor took another note, keeping a poker face.

“And what’s your wife’s name?”

Well, he sure wasn’t gonna be able to guess that.

“Is this really necessary?”

The doctor adjusted the glasses on his nose. “Yes, Mister Beiderman. Please… answer the question.”

Ben was lost for words. His mouth hovered open for a moment, before he closed it and shook his head. “Okay, you got me. I forget.” He threw his hands up in defeat, giving the doctor a sheepish look.

The doctor pressed his lips together, and scrawled some more notes.

“Mister Beiderman, do you remember where you are?”

“Havenwell… right?”

The doctor nodded. “And what’s my name?” he put a hand over his ID badge.

Ugh. If only he’d managed to read it before. Ben wasn’t representing Sam Beiderman’s mental health very well, was he?

“Doctor…” he said slowly, and then said the first thing that came to his mind. “Song?”

Smooth move, you idiot. Ben winced.

The doctor’s brows met, and he made another extensive note, before turning and opening the door behind him, leaning out and saying something to a nurse. The woman glanced at Ben, meeting his eyes and frowning. She nodded, and entered the room with the doctor.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Mister Beiderman,” the doctor said. “That’ll be all for now. Nurse Chatam will escort you to the sitting room. We’ll start up again after lunch.”

He stopped the camera, as the nurse moved to Ben’s side of the table.

“I hear you’re having a bad day,” she said, offering a look of pity.

“Oh, believe me—you have no idea,” Ben replied drily.

*        *        *

“Ian, what the hell’s going on?” Addison cried as she stormed out of the Imaging Chamber, with Janis close behind.

Ian adjusted their cat ears, a perplexed look on their face. “That’s a great question, and one that I’d be more than happy to answer—if I knew such a thing.” They gestured to their computer screen. “The readings are all over the place!”

Janis studied the screen, brow furrowed. “Oh my god, why are there three sets of temporal coordinates?”

“I don’t know!” Ian said. “It’s like there’s three different time periods layered in the one spacial temporal point. I don’t understand how this is possible.”

“And that’s why the hologram failed?” Addison asked.

“Almost certainly,” Ian replied. “And if you ask me,” they added quietly, “that’s some classic ghost shenanigans.”

“Uh, you guys?” Jenn said, approaching from Magic’s office. “We just found something.”

She held her phone out, showing an old black-and-white film of a tired-looking man with dark, shaggy hair.

“What is this?”

“This is an old film of Sam Beiderman from 1956. Magic’s been watching them to find out more about the guy.” She started the video, which was just a stationary shot of the man speaking into a microphone, eyes looking off to one side. “Seems after Sam leapt out of him, he was stuck in that hospital for a long time for monitoring and observation. Treated like a lab rat, and it drove him over the edge. Ended up taking his own life after getting his hands on a razor in 1962.”

She took a deep breath, shaking her head in pity, and turned up the volume.

An off-screen voice: “Do you know the current date and time, Mister Beiderman?”

“Sure I do. I believe it’s October third, 1956, and—” the man’s dark eyes pointedly shifted to the barrel of the camera, “—it’s Turtle Time.”

Jenn paused the video with a flourish.

Addison looked up at Jenn. “What the hell…”

“It has to be Ben, right?”

“Who is this Beiderman guy?” asked Janis.

“Sam leapt into him a long time ago, and had a mental break due to shock treatment,” explained Jenn.

Janis ran a hand through her hair. “What if—and bear with me here, because it’s just a hypothesis—Ben and Sam somehow got caught up in a temporal flux point of sorts due to the leap that already happened there once, and somehow that interacted with the fact there were two leapers there, and thrust them both into points on this guy’s timeline?”

Addison’s eyes moved to Jenn and Ian, and they had just as blank expressions on their faces as she felt she must have.

“I wish Ben was here. He’d understand me,” Janis said, shaking her head. She crossed her arms. “Just pretend I said a ghost did it.”

“You got it,” Jenn said with a shrug.

“Listen—just get me everything you have on that leap,” Janis said. “I want to know all the variables.”

“Coming right up,” said Ian.

Addison watched silently as Janis took charge. She really did know her stuff, didn’t she? And she’d had her reasons for keeping her distance when Martinez was out there.

Of course, she was still upset that she hadn’t been let in on it. Hadn’t been trusted to help orchestrate her own salvation. By Ben, by Janis… and even by the future Ian.

But, maybe it was time to let bygones be bygones. Janis was a valuable asset. They didn’t need to be besties, but she supposed she could live with them being allies. Especially now, while she couldn’t contact Ben.

I hope you’re alright, Ben, she thought, sighing.

*        *        *

“Good morning, Sam,” Doctor Masters said brightly as Nurse Chatam let go of her tight grip on Sam’s wrist, allowing him to enter the small room. “You look focused today. That’s great.”

Sam took in the plain room, a table in the centre and a two-way mirror set into one wall and a window in another. He’d been here before, he knew. He didn’t have an intact memory of what had gone on during that time—shock treatment was well known for causing memory loss—but he knew some of it had occurred here.

As he passed the mirror, he paused, realising he’d never seen Sam Beiderman before. He took a moment to study the face of the man who he took a high-voltage electric shock for so long ago—dark, matted hair streaked with grey, a five o’clock shadow, sunken brown eyes with dark circles underneath. He wondered how this disheveled man had looked when he’d first been admitted for his depression so long ago.

On the table, a radio sat, playing ‘The Loco-Motion’ by Little Eva at a low volume, its telescopic metal aerial pointed to the window.

Then it must be the sixties, Sam thought. That meant, if all of this was real… then Sam Beiderman had been here a long time now.

Doctor Masters showed him to a chair, and Sam sat down, clasping his hands together on the table.

“Doctor,” he greeted, giving the man a nod. “Listen… I’ve gotta ask, am I ever going to get out of this place?”

Doctor Masters gave him a pitying look. “Oh, if only you were this well every day, that might be possible. I’m sorry, but you’re a very sick man, Sam.” He opened his folder of papers, pulling out a page.

“It’s been years since I—uh, thought I was other people, right?” Sam asked. “How can things be worse now than then?”

Doctor Masters looked troubled, and peered down at his sheet of paper. “Sam, your fractured personalities never went away, not entirely. Surely you remember that?”

“Wait, what?” Sam bit his lip. “Oh my god,” he whispered. Had his leap here completely ruined Sam Beiderman’s life? He looked Doctor Masters in the eye. “What… personalities?”

The doctor waited a moment, appearing to be deciding whether to divulge the information. Finally, he took a breath and continued.

“After the numerous personalities that first emerged, we shocked you again at your behest, and you seemed to return to your original personality—for a time. But after a while, two other personalities came out from time to time, though one of them was only short-lived.”

“And they were?”

“Your secondary personality is a man named Sam Beckett,” Doctor Masters said. “Claims to be a time traveller from the future. We asked him to tell us about the future, but he said his memory is like ‘swiss cheese’ and he doesn’t remember.”

Sam swallowed.

“And the second I believe called himself ‘Ben Song,’ though he was particularly paranoid about divulging information, so we didn’t get much out of him. We found he had written his name on the floor of your room, though.”

Under the padding…

“I asked him why he did it, and he said it was ‘for posterity.’ Wouldn’t elaborate further.”

Doctor Masters leaned forward, eyeing Sam. “So, who am I talking to today? Because Sam Beiderman knows all this already, and he hasn’t looked me directly in the eye for three years. You remind me of Beckett, but if you’re him, then you’ve forgotten a few things.”

Sam took a deep breath. What could he say? Apparently, his own name was already taken.

“That—that doesn’t matter. You can call me whatever you need to, okay?”

“Fascinating,” Doctor Masters murmured, writing down something on his notepad with gusto.

“I think all of this is my fault,” he said, shoulders drooping.

And I don’t know how, but I need to make it right.

Chapter 17

Alter Ego

When Ben entered the sitting room, he recognised the place as where he had, very recently, been ‘spooked’ by the fluttering of a curtain, which Sam had disrupted with the breeze from a hand fan.

Now, it was a lot less creepy, and more depressing. The mood in the room was sombre and quiet, and the residents where basically keeping to themselves. Heads down, or staring out the window.

“Alright Mister Beiderman,” Nurse Chatam murmured in a tone that struck Ben as an attempt at ‘motherly’ that drifted uncomfortably into condescension. “You just let me know if you’re getting nervous, okay? I know there’s a lot of people in here today. I’ll be just across the hall—got it?”

“Got it,” Ben replied, trying not to sound too put-off.

The nurse left the room, and Ben looked for somewhere to sit and try and figure out what was going on. If Addison showed up, there wouldn’t be anywhere private to speak to her. This wasn’t an ideal situation.

“Hey—did she just call you ‘Mister Beiderman?’” came the voice of a man who was sitting on the floor against a wall, a picture book in his lap.

Ben nodded, squinting at the man. He had an innocent look in his deep brown eyes. Innocent, but with a twinge of sadness.

The man shook his head in wonder. “Wow! I can’t believe it happened again!”

“What happened?” Ben approached the man, who was grinning up at him.

“Well… sometimes, Mister Beiderman turns into somebody else. A whole different person! I seen it with my own two eyes! It happened, um—two years ago, I guess. The last guy got real sick from the electroshocks. They don’t do that to Mister Beiderman no more. Nope.”

“Are you… talking about Sam Beckett?” Ben said in a whisper, lowering himself to the ground.

“Uhh, yeah, Al told me that was his name. But he was calling himself all different names. It was like he was changing channels on the TV.” He leaned in close, dropping the volume of his voice. “One of them was a lady, but Al kept calling her a ‘him.’” He snorted as if it was a funny joke.

“So…” Ben said, gesturing to himself, “when you look at me, you see…”

“A Chinaman!” The gormless man gave Ben a wide smile.

Ben winced, and suppressed the urge to laugh. “Uh, I’m Korean actually.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man said, shaking his head. “I ain’t never met no Korean people before. So what’s your name? I’m Tibby.”

Ben’s eyes scanned the room, and decided it was safe enough to reveal his name. “Ben.”

“Nice to meetcha, Ben,” Tibby said, extending his hand. Ben accepted his enthusiastic shake. “Are you here to help me at reading? Because that’s what Al did before, and I’m learning—just like he said I would. See?” He proudly held up his children’s book.

Ben smiled at the mention of Al. This guy had seen Al alive more recently than anyone he knew.

“Well, I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing here,” Ben muttered, rubbing a hand over his chin. “But maybe we can help each other out… I’ll help you with your reading, and maybe you can tell me more about Sam—uh, both Sams, I guess.”

“You have yourself a deal, Ben!” Tibby said with a grin, and jumped to his feet, excitedly crossing to the bookshelf.

*        *        *

Magic rubbed his eyes. He’d been going through these old films for a while now. They were largely boring—the same questions again and again, and rarely a different result.

Though, as time went on, it became obvious that Sam Beiderman was getting more and more unwell. Less eye contact, less personal care, less structure in his sentences. It was as though his whole person was wearing away bit by bit. From the beginning, there hadn’t been much light in his eyes, but what little had been there was dead in the water after a couple of years.

That was how he’d so easily noticed Ben. There was a complete change in demeanour from one day to the next.

And it was also how he noticed Sam.

But it wasn’t the intelligent-eyed, cautious demeanour that had been indicative of Ben that tipped him off, but rather something much closer to panic. Wild fear in those dark eyes.

Magic leaned in at this new development. The film was dated February 13th, 1955. A matter of months after the initial leap that started it all.

Sam Beiderman’s face on the previous day had been listless, and his words came out in mutters. But today, his eyes were wide and sharp.

“Please state your name.”

“Sam. Beckett,” he said, eyes focused on the camera lens rather than the doctor behind it.

“I’m sorry? Did you say ‘Beckett?’”

Sam nodded. “I don’t know if he knows I’m here, but I need to get a message to the future.”

“If who knows you’re here? And what do you mean the future?”

“Sam Beiderman. I—look, I think I’m gonna die.” He looked down at his wrists, nervously rubbing at one of them. “I’m—I’m from the future, and I hope to God these film reels survive until then.”

“So, you’re a new personality. Mister Beckett.”

Sam dropped his gaze. “Doctor, actually. And—sure, feel free to interpret me as such.” He chuckled. “I already know you did.”

“You’re a doctor from the future?”

“Yes.” His eyes moved back to the camera. “Janis, we need your help. I think Ben’s more temporally stable than me, because they only identified him once. If you can figure out the date he’s stuck in, you may be able to target his brainwaves; but you need to account in your equations for the precise displacement from the prime temporal coordinates. If you can do that, you just might be able to sync up your hologram with him.”

“I’m sorry—are you talking to your friends in the future right now?”

Sam sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Trying to.” He let his hand slide down his face and off his unshaven chin, and returned his focus to the camera. “Listen, we somehow need to help Beiderman. I just hope it’s not too late.”

“Mister—uh, Doctor Beckett,” the psychiatrist behind the camera cut in, “that’s what we’re trying to do here. Help Mister Beiderman. Help you.”

“Well, you failed,” Sam said flatly. “But—so did I. I failed him the worst.” He looked downward. “And if this is my penance, I just hope Ben doesn’t suffer for my mistakes.”

The film cut off there.

“Oh boy,” Magic mumbled, and stood up to call everyone in to his office.

Chapter 18

Treatments

“I, will, be-come a, rock, on the, m… moon… tay—” Tibby said haltingly, reading from The Runaway Bunny.

“Mountain,” Ben corrected. “Some words are harder to sound out, huh?” His phonics education only went so far. “You kinda just have to memorise it as a whole sometimes.” He placed a finger over the ‘m’ in the word and another over the ‘ain’. “When you see ‘O-U-N-T’ it tends to be pronounced ‘ow-nt.’

“Oh! Like ‘count?’” Tibby asked.

“Exactly! And when an ‘A-I-N’ comes right after, you get ‘-ountain’ like in ‘mountain’ and ‘fountain.’”

“I get it!” Tibby said, and continued reading, his finger tracing the line. “I will become a rock on the mountain… hig…?”

“High. The ‘G-H’ is silent.”

“High… a-bow-ve—high above?—you.” Tibby sighed. “Ben, how come some words gotta have letters they don’t even use?”

“I don’t know, Tibby,” Ben said. “But you’re doing great. Wanna take a break?”

“Yeah, alright.” He snapped the book closed. “Got a headache anyway. Don’t tell nobody.”

“Are you sure? They might be able to give you something for it—” Ben suggested, and was met with a shake of Tibby’s head.

“Oh nah, they don’t help me in here,” he said. “Best thing is when they leave me alone. Nah, I can handle the headaches.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ben said, frowning.

“So, a deal’s a deal,” Tibby said, brightening up. “what kinda things did ya want to know about?”

Ben lowered his voice. “Tell me about Sam Beiderman. What’s he like?”

“Well, he don’t talk much,” Tibby began. “I try to talk to him, but sometimes it’s like he can’t even hear me. Or maybe he just doesn’t like me. I dunno.”

“Why did they put him in here?”

“Um—depression? I think.”

Ben nodded. “I see. That makes some sense. Would you say he lacks energy? Does he smile much?”

“Oh, I ain’t never seen Mister Beiderman smile,” Tibby said, then paused to think. “Well, I guess there was one time. It was only last week. A lady came—Missus Beiderman. He smiled when he saw her, but he was crying when she left.”

“His wife…” Ben recalled being asked about his wife during the grilling earlier. “He cried? Why?”

“I don’t know.” Tibby shrugged.

“Do you know her first name?”

Tibby pursed his lips as he tried to recall. “Uh… Barbara? Maybe.”

Barbara Beiderman? Yeesh.

Ben mouthed the name. “Thanks. That could be a lead.”

He drew his knees up, resting an arm on them. “Now, when Sam Beckett was here—and Al… what happened, exactly? You said something about him changing channels?”

“Oh yeah, it was kinda strange,” Tibby said. “All different people, he said he was. They talked all different. Some of ’em said they were from the future, too!”

People he’d leapt into? Ben shivered. No wonder Sam was so cagey about this whole place. But especially the electroshock room.

“So all this happened from the shock treatment?”

“I guess so. They did too much—it was the Butcher that did it. Tried to kill him.”

“The Butcher?”

“Oh, he don’t work here now,” Tibby said. “Not after that. Good riddance! He never said a nice thing to me, not once.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear he’s gone—whoever he is.”

“Me too.” Tibby shifted positions. “Hey, do you like rap music?”

Ben raised an eyebrow. “You know about rap music?”

“Well, only what Al played for me. He said it’s music from the future.”

From what little Ben could remember about Al, he found it bizarre that the old man would think to introduce rap music to the 1950s, and the thought made him laugh.

“Well, I’ll be,” came Nurse Chatam’s voice. Ben looked up, seeing her crossing the room to him. “I never thought I’d get to hear you laugh, Mister Beiderman. This is quite a turnaround—you weren’t having the best of mornings.”

Ben bit his lip. “Well, it’s a strange kind of day,” he rationalised.

She smiled down at him, offering a hand. “I think Doctor Masters would like to see you in this state. Come on.”

Ben sighed. “Alright.” He slapped Tibby on the knee. “See you later, Tibby.”

“Bye, Ben—” Tibby winced, “—I mean, Mister Beiderman…”

Ben could see Nurse Chatam catch this, before putting on a poker face as she led Ben out of the room.

*        *        *

Sam and Doctor Masters sat there at the table for a while, studying one another, with only the upbeat singing voice of Little Eva filling the silence.

“Well, whoever you are, you seem to be quite aware of your surroundings and sharp-minded,” Doctor Masters finally said. “Perhaps we can make some progress with you around. If you’re willing to cooperate.”

“That depends,” said Sam, frowning. “What have you been doing to treat him—me—all this time?”

Doctor Masters leaned back in his seat. “I can’t say it hasn’t been difficult,” he said, “since the electroshock treatments were contraindicated. We tried behavioral conditioning, but that was unsuccessful. As was psychotherapy, Isoniazid and Imipramine.”

“Have you tried CBT?”

Doctor Masters stared at him blankly.

Mustn’t have been invented yet, he realised. SSRIs wouldn’t be around for some time, either, he reasoned. What a bleak time to be depressed.

“Cognitive processes. Self-talk.” he said. “Sometimes people come to believe things about themselves and the world that aren’t true, and it makes them feel worse. For example, if someone keeps telling themselves they’re useless—or hears it from others, they’ll start to consider it a simple fact without questioning it. So it’s no wonder their well-being deteriorates as a result. If they can catch it when they’re being unfair to themselves, and identify that it’s a false belief, they can banish the thought, and replace it with something kinder.”

Not being a psychologist, Sam hoped he was representing the theory behind Cognitive Behavioural Therapy well enough. Well, he’d leaped into a few in his day, so the ideas weren’t entirely foreign to him.

“Huh, that’s an interesting perspective,” Doctor Masters murmured, writing down some notes.

“Have you ever heard of Aaron Beck?” Sam asked, recalling the name of the man who developed CBT.

“You mean from the University of Pennsylvania?” Doctor Masters gave him a peculiar look. “I’ve been using the Beck Depression Inventory for some months now.”

“Huh,” Sam said, scratching his chin. “Well, I think you should get in touch with him. He’s on the right track.”

Doctor Masters nodded thoughtfully. “I believe he just went into private practice… perhaps I will. But how do you know—”

“Maybe I’m a time traveller too,” Sam said, and stood from his seat. “Mind if I go to the bathroom?”

“Oh. Yes, go ahead,” he said, adjusting his glasses. Sam felt the doctor’s eyes on him as he moved to the door.

After being escorted to the bathroom, he entered and splashed water on his face, studying Sam Beiderman’s appearance in the mirror.

The face looking back seemed to be scowling at him. Was he scowling? Why would he be scowling at himself?

Your fault.

Something felt off about his reflection, so he turned his face away. Upon moving his eyes to the floor, he spotted a safety razor lying there out in the open. That wasn’t safe in a mental ward, was it?

In the interest of keeping others safe, he picked it up.

He headed for the door, intending to give the razor to the nurse, but something stopped him. For no particular reason, he felt the strong urge to hide it. And so, he wedged it under his arm before leaving the bathroom.

I’ll dispose of it safely later, he told himself.

Chapter 19

Haunted, Hunted

The padded room was claustrophobic, and Sam wanted nothing more than to get out of it once he was sent back in. It wasn’t filthy like it had been in the future, but it was just as uncomfortable.

It didn’t help that they’d turned off the lights and he was now in almost pitch darkness, without so much as a headlamp to light his way.

After all his lucidity and the help he’d given, he was still left to languish in the dark like this. These people might have believed they were helping, but they had no clue, did they? Even without conscious malice, they were treating him worse than a zoo animal. At least zoos tended to have enrichment for the resident creatures. Though, he supposed, here in the early sixties that wasn’t always the case either.

Without thinking about it, Sam had unclipped the razor from the shaving implement, and was now holding it in his hand, letting the dim light shine off it like a beacon.

Do it.

What…

End the pain.

No.

It’s your fault. All of it.

Sam felt a deep sorrow wash over him. It really was all his fault, wasn’t it? He’d made everything worse for Sam Beiderman. And it was too late to fix things.

Die with me.

The voice in his mind seemed to clutch at him, pleading.

My name is Sam Beiderman.

“I’m sorry…” Sam murmured.

Do it, damn you.

“I don’t want to…”

Then I will.

And the next thing Sam knew, his hands were sticky with blood, and there was pain in his wrists. How…?

“No!” he scrambled to his feet, hands pressing at the wounds. He ran for the door, but as he was about to pound on the window, everything went black.

*        *        *

A piece of sandwich dropped out of Sam’s mouth.

“Must you be so disgusting, Sam?” The woman was looking at him with intense disdain.

“Uh… sorry…” he replied, and placed down the ham sandwich on the metal tray in front of him. Where was he? Hadn’t he just—she’d called him Sam, hadn’t she? And this cafeteria looked awfully familiar, too.

Sam peered down at the tray, and saw the face of Sam Beiderman reflected back. That couldn’t be right. How did he get here? A minute ago he’d—he shivered, realising that the last time he’d jumped around one person’s life like this was Lee Harvey Oswald. Hadn’t there been a razor then, too?

“Would you just pay attention for five minutes?” the woman said, crossing her arms. “This is why I’m leaving you. You say you want to see me, and just—you hardly even look me in the eye! You’ve barely said a thing, and I don’t know if you’ve heard a word I’ve said!”

“Well,” Sam said quietly, “depression can make social interaction very difficult sometimes, and—”

The woman let out a groan. “I don’t think you’re depressed at all, you know. I think you just want to sit around all day in bed while the rest of us have to pay for your food and board.” She stood, her chair scraping against the floor. “Consider this the last time you’ll see me, Sam. Until you clean yourself up and make an effort.”

“Wait…” Sam stood, but the woman was already half way across the Mess Hall.

Your fault.

*        *        *

When Ben was finally returned to Sam Beiderman’s room, he saw that what had been a padded room in 2010 was not yet fitted out that way here in 1956. And as he entered, the repeated words scrawled on the floor were open and visible for all to see.

“I am Sam Beiderman.”

Ben now understood, to an extent, why the man would feel the need to repeat this mantra, after returning to his senses and finding he had apparently been switching between numerous personas, with no memory of it.

It had been way too long since Ben had come here without Addison showing up, and he had become quite worried that whatever had happened had not been the usual leap. He had just returned from another film session, in which he had uttered the phrase ‘Turtle Time’ in the hopes anyone back home might come upon the tape and be able to pinpoint his leap, assuming the reel survived. But now, looking down at the floor, he thought he might need to add another clue. So he fished out the marker from Sam Beiderman’s bedside, and added his name to the mass.

“So it’s true,” Doctor Masters said, standing in the doorway. “I was hoping Nurse Chatam heard wrong, but I suppose it makes sense as to why you’ve been acting unusual today.” He peered down at Ben’s writing, fingers on his glasses. “‘Ben Song.’ Is that who I’m speaking with?”

Ben climbed to his feet. “I’m Sam Beiderman,” he said with a shrug, putting away the marker.

“Then why did you write that name there?” Doctor Masters asked, eyes narrow.

“Posterity,” Ben said simply, and changed the subject. “Listen, do you think I could speak with my wife today, doctor?”

“Your wife? Oh, I’m glad you feel up to speaking to her today. Yes, I can set up a call for you. I’ll have the nurse come get you when the phone is available, alright?”

Ben nodded. “I appreciate that.”

As the doctor closed the door, Ben turned and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Addison pop into existence right in front of him.

“Oh my god, Addison!” he cried, silently thanking god that she’d finally arrived.

“Ben…” Addison’s eyes were shining with tears of relief. “God, I’m glad you’re okay. There’s some kind of crazy time warp happening in this place. Both you and Sam slipped into different times.”

“So it wasn’t a leap…”

“Not a normal one, by any measure,” Addison confirmed, her form flickering. “We got your message, by the way. Thanks for giving us the date.”

Ben smiled. “I’m glad you got it. Does anyone know what happened? Can we correct this?”

“We’re trying to get to the bottom of it. All we know is that there’s a film of Sam in 1955—in the same guy as you—and he seems to think he’s in trouble. He gave us some advice that helped Ian and Janis get a lock on you.”

“Well, thank you Sam.” Ben folded his arms. “What do you mean ‘in trouble?’”

Addison shook her head. “He said he thinks he’s gonna die, but he didn’t go into it. But he said we have to help Sam Beiderman. Which, for the record, is you.”

Ben gestured to the floor. “Yeah, I did pick up on that much, Addison.”

“Oh, yeah,” Addison conceded. “So here’s what we know: Sam Beiderman is—”

“Depressed and they think he’s got DID, right? Because of Sam’s leap.”

“Exactly. Wow, maybe you didn’t need me after all.”

“I’ve been talking to this guy, Tibby. He can see my real face.”

“Right,” Addison agreed, “You might find that true for a number of patients here.” She peered down at her handlink. “Anyway—there’s more,” she said, “because he’s going to slash his wrists with a razor in 1962.”

“I thought you said the Sam on the reel was in 1955. Why does he think he’s gonna die then?”

Addison shook her head. “We don’t know.”

“Okay, well, I’m already on the case,” Ben said. “Apparently last week, Sam had a visit from his wife and when she left, he was in tears.”

Addison tapped at the handlink. “Oh—I think I might know why. She and him get a divorce in three weeks.” She looked back up. “Ben, Sam said we need to help the guy. Maybe that could be a way?”

Ben pressed his lips together. “Okay. That helps. A call with her is being set up as we speak. Is there anything else I could do to help this guy?”

“I’ll get the others on it.” Addison gazed into Ben’s eyes. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, Ben.” And she was gone.

Chapter 20

In Sickness and In Health

The next thing that came into Sam’s line of vision was a swaying tree. In a start, he realised he was looking out of a window. He sat in a chair, in a room scattered with fellow patients.

He inspected his wrists, which appeared intact, but they did still hurt, as if they had just been sliced open.

God, what’s happening to me? Am I dying? Am I still in that room in my death throes?

Sam’s mind was running at a mile a minute, but his thoughts were scattered; erratic. Frightened. Of death. Of life. Of being trapped in this fever dream for good.

Your fault.

That voice. Sam Beiderman’s voice, he could only assume. Why was it speaking to him?

Sam felt like he was being pulled into insanity with the man. Maybe that had been his intent all along. Maybe it was his ghost doing all of this, dragging him through time to fade away alongside him as punishment.

And maybe he deserved it.

What if he was Sam Beiderman, just suffering a complete delusion? Maybe he was just a fabrication in the man’s sick mind…

Oh, don’t go down that road. He banished the thought. People were out there trying to get him home, he reminded himself. He was wanted. He was real.

“Alright Tibby, say goodbye to your friends.”

Sam glanced over to the door, and there he was—Tibby was older now. A little more mature in the face, but his eyes were still young. And when they met his, they popped wide open.

Tibby weaved around the other patients, crossing over to Sam with excitement.

“Holy smokes, I never thought you’d come back. You sure did get old…” He cocked his head and lowered his voice. “Are you a he or a she this time?”

Sam shot a quick glance at the door, where a doctor—Freddie? I remember a Freddie…—was looking down at his watch.

“It’s good to see you’re well, Tibby,” he said quietly, standing and manoeuvring the pair of them out of Freddie’s line of sight. “And… uh… I’m a ‘he.’ Just call me Sam, okay?”

“What are you here for now? You don’t need to help me, you know. I’m gettin’ out of this place today—and I even have a job starting Monday!” He grinned. “If you see Ben, tell him he was a good help with my reading.”

Sam grabbed Tibby by the arm. “You met Ben? When?”

“Oh, long time ago now,” said Tibby, scratching at his head. “Nineteen fifty… um… six? Only for a day.”

“And you never saw him again?”

“Nope.”

Sam paced a few steps. “So,” he reasoned, “he’s more stable than me. Which means he can be pinpointed. I need to somehow get a message to Janis…”

He smiled at Tibby. “I’m really happy you’re getting out of here. And… maybe Ben and I can find some way to help Sam Beiderman get out of here too.” He lowered his head. “I just need to figure out how. If I’m jumping around within his life like this, there’s got to be some way to help. But how do I get through to the future?”

“Pity they stopped taking Mister Beiderman for the movie sessions,” Tibby said.

“Movie sessions?”

“Yeah! They used to have this movie camera, see…” Tibby began to pantomime his description. “And they’d point it at him and ask him all these boring questions; like his name, what the date was, things like that. They keep movies a long time, don’t they? I seen ones from the 1920s, you know. Before I was even born.”

Well, if it was true that the personality of ‘Sam Beckett’ had come out intermittently during Beiderman’s time here, it was becoming more and more likely that it had been him all along, finding himself pulled into different time periods at random.

And should he find himself in front of a film camera—well, he’d have to take the opportunity.

“Thank you, Tibby,” he said earnestly. “You may have just saved my life.”

Tibby looked back at him blankly. “How?”

“Never mind,” Sam said with a chuckle. “Now, you go on and make a good life for yourself, okay? Make Al proud.”

“I will, Sam.” Tibby wrapped his pinky finger around Sam’s. “Promise!”

The next time Sam blinked, the world changed again.

*        *        *

“Here you are, Mister Beiderman.” The orderly picked up the earpiece of the old rotary telephone on the wall and handed it to Ben as he dialled the number. “Try to keep your drool off the mouthpiece.”

That was uncalled for.

The phone looked old even for the fifties, lacking a two-in-one handset—the microphone was built into the box, so Ben would have to stand against it during his conversation.

Finishing the dial, the orderly stepped away, but kept his eyes on Ben across the corridor.

Well, here goes nothing, he thought as the line connected.

“Hello?”

“Hi… Barbara?”

“Sam… I didn’t expect a call from you.”

Ben licked his lips, mustering up all his charm. “Listen, I… just wanted to say how much I miss you and I—”

“Sam… please don’t make this harder than it already is.”

Ben winced. “Barbara, can we talk this out? Please. Just give me a chance.”

“I gave you a chance, Sam. Don’t you understand? It’s been more than two years, and you’ve only gotten worse. I can’t live like this, just waiting for you. I have to move on.”

It was at that moment, Addison appeared in front of Ben, and the look in her eyes gave him the words to continue.

“I know it’s hard waiting for someone who may never come home, and I’m so sorry. But I can’t do this without you. If there’s any chance I’m ever getting out of here, it’s with you by my side, helping me. Being someone I can lean on. It’s gonna be hard, I know. But I promise—if you can just hang on while I need you the most, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

Addison gave him a perplexed look. “Are you talking to me, or her?”

Ben gave her a knowing look.

“Sam… you haven’t spoken so eloquently in years…” Barbara’s voice was choked with emotion.

“Barbara, I just need a little time,” Ben continued. “Please don’t leave me.” He locked eyes with Addison. “I love you.”

He didn’t know whether his speech had affected Barbara; she was silent. But Addison was blinking back tears.

A moment later, Barbara finally responded.

“It was never that I stopped loving you, Sam. I do. But you’ve become a different person.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Ben admitted. “Being trapped in this place… it takes its toll. Not being able to touch you, wake up to you… having to talk to you long distance like this…” He was, once again, looking directly at Addison.

“…Tell me how to help you, Sam,” Barbara murmured.

“Stand with me. Fight for me. Don’t give up on me. And most of all, try to understand what I’m going through. I know it’s hard from the outside, but depression is a disease, Barbara. And it’s one that’s a lot harder to fight alone.”

“Let… let me think about it, okay?” Barbara said hastily.

“Okay,” Ben said, eyes closing as the line went dead.

“That was beautiful,” Addison remarked as he hung up the earpiece. “And it improved Sam Beiderman’s odds of survival by…” she swiped at the handlink, “thirty-seven percent.”

“That’s not enough,” Ben said under his breath.

“Well, Ziggy’s got a few extra tweaks you could make to improve the odds.”

“Go ahead…”

Chapter 21

Time Tweaks

After managing to speak his message into a camera, and hoping it would find its way to Ziggy some day, Sam fell through time again, and found himself back in the observation room surrounded by inkblots strewn across the table in front of him. The only clue to the time period now was the melody of ‘Tallahassee Lassie’ drifting out of the radio.

“What do you see in this image?” asked Doctor Masters, holding up what looked to Sam like nothing but a bit of spilled ink.

Sam crossed his arms. “I don’t know. A puddle? What do these actually tell you, anyway?”

“Sometimes it provides valuable insight into the subconscious, Mister Beiderman.” He put down the blot and held up another. “How about this?”

Sam gazed at it, his chin in his hands. “A cut. With… blood… gushing out.”

He looked away from the paper and unconsciously rubbed at his wrists. Doctor Masters seemed to notice this, and set about flipping through the pages fastened to his clipboard, though he gave no indication of why. After a moment, he held up another inkblot.

Sam sighed, staring at the scattering of blobs on the paper. “Uh—the Ursa Major constellation.”

Doctor Masters raised his eyebrows and looked at the blot himself. “Huh. It kind of does resemble it, doesn’t it?” He moved his eyes back to Sam. “You know constellations?”

Sam shrugged. “My Dad taught them to me when I was a kid.”

Doctor Masters frowned. “Hmm, according to my notes, your father died when you were two years old.” He leaned forward, scanning Sam’s face. “It’s been over a year since I’ve observed a personality change,” he said. “I thought the issue may have resolved. But that action you made—rubbing your wrists. I’ve seen it before. Are you Sam Beckett?”

“Well deduced,” Sam conceded, his shoulders dropping as he let go of his facade. “Listen, can we skip the Rorschach tests and Freudian psychoanalysis? I don’t think it’s going to help.”

“What makes you say that, Mist—Doctor Beckett?”

“Time traveller, remember?” Sam said, hands spread out. “What Sam Beiderman needs is people who care about him. People who are willing to listen and who’ll boost his self-esteem and confidence. He needs a support network, not endless tests and observation.”

Doctor Masters rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

Sam clasped his hands. “And he needs to know that I’m only trying to help—can you tell him that when he comes back? Tell him I’m sorry for what happened, and if I could have stopped it, I would.”

“Stop what?”

“The electroshock, and everything that happened back then.” Sam shook his head. “He blames me for bringing all those other personalities into his head. But he needs to know that I didn’t choose this. I was a victim too. Please, Doctor. Tell him I’m trying to make things right.”

Doctor Masters was taking extensive notes now, only lifting his head to study Sam’s eyes.

“Why does he blame you, Doctor Beckett?”

“Because if I’d never shown up, you wouldn’t have started treating him like a guinea pig. He might have been able to go home long before now.”

“But you didn’t show up until months after he initially began presenting symptoms of multiple personalities.”

Sam shook his head. “You don’t understand—it was because of me. All those personalities came out of me, not him.” At Doctor Masters’ puzzled look, he added, “Forget it. I can’t explain any more, not while you’re taking notes on me. The information is too sensitive.”

Doctor Masters placed his pen down on the table. “Alright. I promise that whatever you tell me today will be strictly off-the-record.”

Sam gestured to the two-way mirror in the wall. “And what about that? Are people watching us right now?”

Doctor Masters laughed. “Not today. We don’t have the resources for that.”

Sam searched his face for signs he might be lying. He’d become pretty good at feeling these things out, but he wasn’t detecting anything untoward now. He wasn’t sure how much to divulge, but he finally decided to try letting the man in on some of it—something had to change, he figured.

“Look, Doctor,” he said, “I know that the only way you can make sense of me is to write me off as a fabrication created by a sick mind. And that’s fine, I really don’t care what you think I am. But I have the strong belief that if you can get Beiderman the help he needs, you won’t be seeing me any longer.”

He closed his eyes, trying to put together his next words. “Think of me like a… a doctor, who does house calls, so to speak. I do what I can to fix problems, and then I move on to the next ‘patient.’ That’s who all those other people you met were. People I’d helped before. I guess I took a piece of each of them with me when I left. And the electroshock damaged my psyche enough for a few of them to… kind of shuffle into the front.”

Doctor Masters was looking at him with a deep ridge in his brow, trying to understand. “Are you saying you’re some kind of—entity? That possesses people?”

Sam chuckled. “Entity? Uh—no. I’m just a man who got stuck with an, um, unusual vocation. But Sam Beiderman… he’s been a unique case, because of what happened. My presence made things worse for him. And I think that’s why I ended up back here. Because he blames me. And maybe because I need to set things right.”

“I see. So you want me to believe that Sam Beiderman doesn’t have alternate personalities, and that his alter egos are because you’re… dropped into his body intermittently?”

“Uh—well, yes. Kinda. Don’t get me wrong, he’s unwell. His depression is real, I’m sure. But he’s not as sick as you think, and he just needs the right kind of support.”

Doctor Masters adjusted his glasses. “Well, that’s an interesting story, Doctor Beckett.”

Sam frowned. “You don’t believe a word I just told you, do you?”

“Well,” Doctor Masters said, shifting in his chair, “It is a little far-fetched, I’ll be honest. But what you’ve told me has been fascinating.”

“Well, if you believe nothing else,” Sam said, “believe what I’ve told you about Sam Beiderman. He needs support. Depression can be hard to treat, but I can say for sure that being isolated and cooped up… it just makes things worse for him. Unless something changes, he’s going to end it sooner or later… and he’s going to make sure I’m there when he does it.” He winced as a surge of pain went through his wrists.

Doctor Masters pursed his lips. “I’ll try to accommodate your requests. I promise.” He flipped to a page in his clipboard. “‘Support network,’ you said?”

“Yes. You could start with Missus Beiderman, maybe?”

“I’m afraid she divorced you—uh, Mister Beiderman—some time ago.”

“Damn.” Sam had been hoping Ben had managed to do something about that, but maybe that had been too big an expectation. After all, from what he’d seen of her, she seemed entirely fed up with him.

“However,” continued Doctor Masters, “Perhaps I’ll give his brother a call.”

“Beiderman has a brother?”

“Uh—yes. Matthew Beiderman. We didn’t even know how to contact him for a while, until you gave us his number out of the blue.”

“I did? When?”

“Wait—no, it wasn’t you; I believe it was when the Ben Song personality was presenting.”

Sam let out a breath. “Okay. Uh, well then—yes. Please do call him. I’d appreciate that.”

“Is Ben another one of these… doctors?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “And if I survive this, it’ll be because of him.”

Chapter 22

Butterfly Effect

“Okay,” Addison said, “we’ve improved our odds by another twenty percent there.” She watched the handlink for a moment curiously. “Huh. And climbing…”

“Maybe Sam’s managing to make a difference too,” Ben said, as he sat in Sam Beiderman’s bed, writing a long, detailed letter to the depressed man for when he inevitably returned to his life. “So what else am I putting in this thing?”

“You’ve got down the cognitive strategies?”

“Yes, and the whole bit about exercise, and sunshine, and nutrition, though I don’t know how he’s going to get much of that from in here. I hope this doesn’t come across as patronising. Last thing we need is a backlash effect.”

“Well, Ziggy’s giving us pretty good odds on it helping in marginal ways.” Addison swiped at the handlink, scrolling through more data. “Okay… let’s see… oh!” She smirked. “Well, SSRIs won’t be around for decades, but there is one, uh, natural remedy that’s had promising results in recent studies. Only thing is…”

“What?”

“Well… it’s magic mushrooms.” Addison stifled a laugh, but had trouble keeping it in.

Ben raised a confused eyebrow. “I mean… it’s not that funny, is it?”

Addison shook her head, forcing herself to become more serious. “Sorry, it’s just… apparently, Janis told  the others this story where she took shrooms as a teen and—never mind. It’s not really relevant.”

“Good to see you getting along with her, I guess?” He frowned. “I’m not so sure smuggling hallucinogens into a mental hospital’s such a hot idea. They might think he’s had another episode.”

“Yeah—maybe don’t write that in the letter.”

A knock came at the door, before Nurse Chatam opened it and slipped a head inside.

“Alright, Mister Beiderman, I’ll be heading home for the evening shortly—is there anything you need before I go?”

Addison motioned to Ben. “Now’s your chance for phase four.”

Ben put down his pen and paper. “Uh, yeah—do you mind having a quick talk?” He patted the bed next to himself.

“Sure, Mister Beiderman,” she said, and took up his offer to sit beside him. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, first off, can you just call me Sam? ‘Mister Beiderman’ is so formal,” Ben said. “Makes me feel more isolated, you know? I’ve been in here long enough to be on a first name basis with the people I see every day, surely.”

The nurse raised her eyebrows. “Oh. Alright, if that’s what you’d prefer.” She processed this for a moment, before adding, “I guess you may call me Alice. Though maybe not in front of some of the doctors.”

“Alice…” Ben said, as if to test the name. “Great. Thank you, Alice.”

“Why did Tibby call you ‘Ben’ earlier?” Alice asked suddenly.

“Not important.” He shook his head. “But listen: I  just want you to know that I appreciate everything you do around here, and the times I might lash out at you, or say something to hurt you… that’s when I’ll need you the most. And I apologise in advance, because it’s bound to happen sometimes.”

Alice gave him a shrug. “Comes with the territory.”

“Yeah, I suppose it does. I just need someone in this place I can put my trust in. Could you be that person?”

The nurse viewed him through searching eyes. “Where is this coming from all of a sudden, Mister—uh, sorry—Sam?”

Ben heaved a sigh. “I’m just taking stock of what I need,” he said. “I’m trying to help you to help me get better. While I have, uh, the wherewithal to do so. So… what do you say?”

Alice pondered this for a moment. “Well, I like to think I’m doing my best for all the patients here, Sam. And we’ve already been through a lot, you and I.”

Ben nodded. “Exactly. You’ve done your job well. You’re a great nurse.” He leaned in to her. “But what I really need is a friend.”

“And you want that friend to be me?”

“Sure. Why not?”

Alice’s lips curved upward. “Yeah, why not? How about tomorrow I bring you a deck of cards and we can play a game of Cribbage during my break?”

“I’d like that,” Ben said, smiling warmly, then flicked a glance at Addison. She was looking down at the handlink closely, and gave him a thumbs up.

“I think we’ve done just about all we can now,” she said, a nervous tone in her voice. “Let’s hope Sam can push it the rest of the way.”

*        *        *

A piece of sandwich dropped out of Sam’s mouth.

Whoa. Déjà vu.

Sam glanced down at the metal tray, and then back up at Missus Beiderman sitting across the table. She looked the same. Same clothes, same earrings, same hairstyle.

Why am I back here…?

But there was something different about the way she was looking at him this time.

“Sorry,” he said in anticipation of her jabs.

“It—it’s okay,” she said. She was looking at him with… pity, perhaps? Not the look of disgust or frustration he’d seen last time.

“Sam, I…” the woman began, and Sam suddenly really wished he knew what her name was. “…what you told me last week was… eye-opening. And I want to give you the opportunity to convince me to stay with you. To show that you have it in you to get better.”

Ben must have changed something. A smile tickled at Sam’s lips.

He reached across the table, placing his hand over hers.

“I’m doing everything I can to help myself,” he said gently, “I swear. But depression… it may never really go away. I can improve, but it may always be a struggle for me. If I’m lucky, this is me at my lowest point.”

Missus Beiderman nodded, her eyes glistening with held back emotion.

“I won’t ask you to stay if you don’t think you can cope,” he continued, “but I can’t lie and say that your decision won’t impact me enormously. Your support would mean the world to me.”

“I know…” Missus Beiderman’s gaze dropped to her hands. “On the phone you said depression was a disease. That stuck with me, because I never thought of it that way before. And I started thinking about Betsy and how her husband came back from Korea with one leg. And how terrible I would think it’d be if she left him just because he had trouble walking.”

She bit her lip. “But I’m scared that we’ll never be able to have the life we pictured. I want children, Sam. But I’d need to leave my job if that happened. What if you’re not up to providing for us?”

Sam squeezed her hand. “All I can promise is that I’ll do everything in my power to work towards that, and that’s as much as I can promise. It’s up to you.” He took a deep, desperate breath. His life was on the line, but he couldn’t tell her that. He wasn’t going to manipulate her. “Are you… are you willing to stand by me?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but everything changed again.

Sam once again felt the blood on his hands. He couldn’t see anything, but he could feel his life draining away.

He’d failed. He was going to die. He’d tried and tried, but he was still going to die.

I’ve been beaten, shot, strapped to an electric chair, stabbed, nearly dumped into the sea with garbage, almost burned alive… and this is how it ends?

“I’m sorry, Sam,” he mumbled—or maybe just thought the words, he wasn’t entirely sure—before consciousness gave way to nothing.

Am I dead?

Sam drew a sharp breath. Well, generally dead people didn’t breathe, so that was a good sign. He tried to blink his eyes open, but the light was too bright, so he closed them again.

He felt a warm hand in his. “Sam…”

“Donna?” he murmured.

“Who’s Donna? It’s me, Sam. Barbara.”

Sam’s eyes popped open again, and he blinked a few times as they adjusted. It was sunlight streaming in a window.

“Barbara…” So that’s her name.

Missus Beiderman gazed upon him, a look of relief on her face. “You’re awake,” she said, her voice emotional.

Sam looked down to his wrists; they were bandaged up tightly.

“Oh, thank god,” he whispered. “I thought I was dead for sure.”

“You regret it?” Barbara asked, hopeful. Sam nodded.

“Who found me?”

“Alice. She stayed back a little longer; said she was going to sneak you some ice cream. Isn’t that lucky?”

Who’s Alice?

“Glad you’re still with us, Sammy,” came a man’s voice from the other side of the bed. Sam studied the man, who shared some features with Sam Beiderman.

“Matthew,” he said, making an assumption.

“Don’t scare us like that again,” Sam Beiderman’s brother said with a sad smile. “I don’t want to have to tell Maryanne her Daddy’s gone to Heaven.”

“Sorry,” Sam choked out. “I guess I’m lucky to have the two of you. And… Alice.”

Well, it wasn’t luck.

Sam still felt weak, so he closed his eyes and relaxed his neck.

A moment later—or at least it seemed that way to Sam—he reopened his eyes to find himself in darkness.

“Huh?” he grunted, sitting up. He wasn’t in a bed at all now. It was a gritty, dusty floor. And—what was on his head?

Nearby, a beam of light appeared.

“What the hell…” came Ben’s voice.

“Ben?”

“Sam! Are we back? Wait, this isn’t the padded room…”

Sam reached to his headlamp, switching it on and aiming the light at the floor.

“Uh… well it’s not padded now, but…” he gestured to the writing on the floorboards. “I think it’s the same room…”

“We… we did it?” Ben asked, his light shining upon his own name—now old and faded with age.

“I think we did it,” Sam said, hardly allowing himself to believe that he was back in 2010.

In the darkness, the two leapers hugged one another, collective relief washing over them.

“I think you’ve proven yourself worthy of my trust, Ben,” Sam said, wiping a tear from his eye. “You and your team. If you hadn’t been there…”

“I know,” Ben said, pulling away and heading for the door. It now had a perfectly usable handle on it, and he opened it with a flourish. “Now—let’s check out of here, shall we?”

Chapter 23

Second Chances

Ben led the way out of the room, still adjusting to the idea that it was no longer a padded cell.

“So what the hell just happened, anyway?” he asked Sam as the two of them continued collecting audio recorders from their strategically placed positions through the hospital. “Addison said it was some kind of time warp?”

Sam shrugged broadly. “Some kind of convergence of quantum energies? Sam Beiderman’s ghost? I’m not sure I want to know, to be completely honest. I’m just glad it’s over.”

“Fair enough,” Ben conceded. “What happened to this guy Beiderman anyway? Did we stop him from suicide?”

Sam let out a rush of air from his nose. “He still made the attempt, but he was found before it killed him. Someone named Alice?”

“Nurse Chatam,” Ben said, grinning. “Ha, I guess Ziggy was on the right track having me spark up a friendship with her.”

“I can fill in a bit more,” came the voice of Addison. The two men directed their attention to her, illuminated in the dark room. “Welcome back, by the way.”

“Thanks for your help,” Sam said. “Really, truly. I came dangerously close to dying there with Beiderman.”

“You’re very welcome,” Addison said warmly.

“How did things turn out for him?” Ben asked, prompting Addison to bring up the data on the handlink.

“Well, his wife stuck by him and moved in with his brother’s family when she got pregnant by Sam in 1960. He got out of here in ‘63, and started seeing Aaron Beck as he was developing CBT. Went on to be an advocate for mental health reform, and lived to the age of 72.” Addison lowered the device in her hand. “I guess being able to work this leap from multiple time periods really gave us an edge. Can’t just cure someone of depression and split, huh?”

“I’m so glad he could lead a full life,” said Sam. “So, uh, what are we still doing here? Seems like we’ve done what we needed to do, right?”

Ben raised his eyebrows. “What about Al?”

In the moment of contemplation that followed, a phone began to ring.

Iris’s phone lit up in Sam’s pocket.

“How did…” Sam pulled it out, looking at it with fear. The caller ID on the phone indicated that Joey was calling.

Cautiously, he answered. “H-hello? …Oh. Yeah, we’ll be a few more minutes. Got a little delayed. We’ll see you back at the entrance soon. Okay. Later.”

He hung up before staring down at the phone for another moment. His eyes moved up to Ben.

“All that crazy stuff with this phone before—you remember that, right?”

Ben nodded, and patted against his own pants. With an open mouth, he drew Greg’s phone out of his back pocket.

“So, uh, that definitely wasn’t there before.” He and Addison looked at one another stiffly.

“Let’s—let’s get the hell out of this place,” Sam said resolutely, and burst into motion.

*        *        *

In an Internet Café in Scranton, Sam sat at a computer, flanked by Ben and a holographic Janis.

“Okay Sam, you’re gonna want to open up the command prompt so we can bypass some of the restrictions and monitoring on this thing,” Janis said, studying the screen.

Sam had, unfortunately, not had many opportunities to learn the ropes of modern computers since the nineties. He’d leaped around a bit during the 2000s, but there was rarely time to teach himself much. Instead, he used his time at computers to communicate with his secure contact, who assisted him by researching the people around him, and helping him figure out possible goals to be accomplished—in the absence of Ziggy.

Sam’s contact had been in touch with him since 2002, thanks to Janis. It wasn’t easy to keep continuity with someone he communicated with in a completely random order, but they took it one leap at a time.

But this time, he was here for an entirely different contact.

“Excuse me Janis, but you can’t tell me you’re in here helping set up a secure line of communication without my help, are you?”

Sam glanced behind him towards the voice, and it seemed another hologram had appeared. Just how many holograms did they have, anyway? Back in his day, there was only Al; or occasionally, a poorly synchronised Gooshie.

The woman smiled down at Sam. “Nice to meet you at last. I’m Jenn. Head of security.”

Janis rolled her eyes. “It’s my server, Jenn. I don’t think I want you seeing how to access it.”

“Oh, come on, maybe I can tighten the security.”

“It’s fine.”

“Janis, remind me again who tracked you down when you were in hiding?”

Janis groaned. “Okay—fine. Not like the security protocols are the same as they were in 2010.”

Sam looked between them, eyebrows raised. “I can’t tell if you two are friends or enemies.”

“Best frenemies,” Jenn said, making eye contact with Janis.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Janis replied, but Sam could detect some fondness in the way she looked at Jenn.

The two holograms leaned over Sam’s shoulder and began to guide him through the process of setting up a call. In Sam’s periphery, he could see Ben move to the other side of the Internet Café, peering out the windows to the street.

“Are you sure that’s enough layers of security?” Jenn asked. “We did manage to trace Sam’s call to Hawaii, remember?”

“What do you suggest, then?”

“Well, you could always reroute through my onion server. 2010 me might notice the connection and attempt to trace it, but the security you have set up should stop me.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then we might become best frenemies a little sooner.”

Janis frowned. “Oh, what the hey. Let’s do it.”

The two of them walked Sam through the remainder of the process, and Sam finally donned a headset and entered Al’s number.

As he let the computer dial and connect, he glanced over at Ben, beckoning.

But as Ben approached, a web of blue light began to shine out of him. He was leaping.

“Oh god, not yet!” he cried, straining to hold back the inevitable. Eyes wide, Ben held out his hand to Sam. “Quick, grab me. That’s what you said to do, right?”

At the same time, the phone call connected.

“Hello?” came the unmistakable voice of Al Calavicci.

Oh god. I have to choose between leaping with Ben or talking to Al one last time.

Sam bit his lip. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d given up his chance to go home for Al.

“I can’t go,” he murmured, as the light took Ben away.

As the light faded, Greg Nguyen blinked and looked around in confusion. Sam squeezed his eyes shut, and turned back to the computer.

“What?” Al’s perplexed voice asked over the headset. “Who is this?”

“Al, don’t hang up,” he whispered. “It’s Sam.”

He held a hand against the microphone and looked up at Greg. “Hey, would you order me a coffee? Please?”

“…Sam?!” came Al’s raw, alarmed voice.

“Uh… yeah, okay…” Greg scratched his head and nodded, before heading for the counter in something of a daze.

Sam returned to the phone call. “Yeah, Al. It’s me. I assume you understand why I sound like a girl right now.”

“How do I know it’s really you…?”

Sam was smiling ear to ear. He was really, truly, talking to his best friend after all these years.

“Well, I guess you don’t. But I suspect not many people in this timeline remember you having five wives and a long-term relationship with Tina.”

“Well. Hot damn,” Al wheezed. “Where the hell have you been all these years, Sam?”

“Oh… you know. Leaping from life to life. Putting right what once went wrong.”

“Without me?”

Sam felt his eyes welling up. “You don’t need me anymore, Al. You’ve got Beth.”

Al was silent a moment.

“Al?” Sam prompted.

“I’ve wanted to thank you for that for a long time,” he finally replied. “It’s like my life just clicked into place, you know? But it’s still had a piece missing, ‘cause you’re not in it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no, I understand. Terminally good, I called you once—remember? You don’t know when to quit.”

Sam laughed through his sobs. “You’re damn right about that. I just gave up a chance to go home to make this call.”

“Sam, you didn’t!”

“Worth it,” he said with a grin and a sniff. “Look… I may not ever be able to speak to you again, I don’t think, but there’s one thing I’d like to let you in on. You just have to promise not to hold it against her.”

“Hold what against who?”

Sam grimaced. “Janis. She may have been keeping track of my leaps without telling you about it.”

“Whaddaya mean Janis has—? Since when?”

“It’s been a few years now. I want you to speak with her and tell her I said it’s okay to tell you who the contact is.”

“Contact?”

Sam noticed Greg heading in his direction with a cup of coffee.

“Listen, I’ve gotta go. It’s… it’s been really good to hear your voice, Al.”

“Well, likewise,” Al said drily, “even if you do sound like a broad.”

“She’s a blonde, too,” Sam said, chuckling.

“How are the ta-tas?”

“Al.”

“What? A married man can still appreciate the female form. I’m just curious, that’s all.”

I’ve missed this.

“Goodbye, Al.”

“So long, Sam. I’d say don’t be a stranger, but… you know—that’s pretty much all you do.”

As the line disconnected and all traces of the phone call were purged from the computer, Sam felt a leap overtake him.

Chapter 24

Epilogue

Janis stormed out of the Imaging Chamber, doing her best to hold back tears.

“What just happened?” asked Addison, approaching her with wide eyes. God, she wished she had been able to be present in there when all this went down.

“Your stupid Accelerator leapt Ben away before Sam could speak to my Dad, that’s what!” Janis let out a frustrated groan, and continued to Ian’s workstation, where Magic was standing, looking decidedly deflated.

“He chose that phone call over coming home,” Magic muttered. His face was a conflict of relief that Sam had spoken to Al, and frustration that they’d lost him again. “Damn, that man is stubborn.”

“Sam always does what Sam wants to do,” Janis said through a sigh. “It’s how he got stuck out there to begin with.”

Magic gave Janis a look. “That notebook of yours… it’s our only record of Sam’s leaps, isn’t it?”

Janis crossed her arms. “I’m not handing it over. Not until I can be sure there aren’t any rogue leapers around.”

“And how can you expect to know that?”

Janis turned her gaze to Ian, who was hanging back at their computer. “Ian—you volunteered to help with my project earlier, right?”

“Hang on, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Jenn approached the group, setting her handlink on the desk. “Just what happened to the ghost hunters? Did they turn out okay?”

Ian chuckled. “I’ve been waiting for someone to ask that.” They turned to their monitor, and gestured to a video on the screen—grainy infra-red footage of the room where Ben and Sam had been trapped. The space that had originally been lined with foam and rubber, but was now just a normal, ruined hospital room. Ian paused it as the camera panned across one of the walls.

“This is footage from their pilot,” Ian explained, tapping on the keyboard to advance the video frame by frame. “Check this out.”

There on the wall, in the same handwriting as the floor, was the message: ‘S + B – Thank you.’

“The pilot didn’t get picked up for series,” Ian continued, “but Iris and Greg swore up and down they were possessed during the shoot. Gee, wonder why that might be? Anyway, the gang went on to adapt their show for YouTube and became quite successful debunkers of other people’s ghost videos. Guess they were pretty well knowledgeable about that, huh? But because of their experience, they now claim to be believers, and want to get to the bottom of what happened.” Ian turned around with a triumphant smile.

“Well, that’s great,” Magic said, “as long as they don’t actually find out the truth.”

“I think we’re pretty safe there,” Ian said, “unless one of them finds a vocation later in life as a quantum physicist.” They removed their cat ears. “I think it’s safe to take these off now.”

“Don’t be too hasty,” Janis said. “You and I have things to do.”

*        *        *

This place was extremely badass. Ian marvelled at Janis’s apartment—no, not apartment. Lair. It was definitely more of a lair. The makeshift Imaging Chamber loomed large on one side, with a server stack against a wall and a desk strewn with electronic components, being overlooked by several computer monitors. It was the first time Janis had been back here since Jenn had tracked it down.

“You know how long it took me to build this Imaging Chamber?” Janis asked, gesturing to the large sphere. “Months. All to warn Ben about Martinez, and I couldn’t even do that because you guys just had to shut me out. You’re all a collective pain in my ass, you know that?”

Ian looked at her, sheepish. “Well you weren’t exactly forthcoming about your intentions, were you? How were we supposed to know you were trying to help us when you nearly exploded Jenn and Magic?”

Janis opened her mouth to answer, but decided against it. Instead, she placed something into Ian’s hand.

Oh, cool!

Ian was extremely into the aesthetic of the old handlink. The rainbow colour scheme, the blocky design—very avant garde. And the little noises it made! They were so adorable!

“It looks like something a robotic unicorn coughed up,” they remarked, turning it in their hands.

Janis raised an eyebrow. “Uh… if you say so. Dad used to compare it to a bunch of gummy bears smooshed together.” she shook her head. “Anyway, do you think you can adapt it?”

“Well…” Ian tilted their head. “Yes, I think so—but how the heck are we going to configure it and test it out? Got any leapers around to use it on?”

“That’s the tricky part, isn’t it?” Janis asked, running a hand through her hair. “I had to coax someone out of hiding for this. I just hope…”

“Out of hiding? What do you mean?”

A knock came on the door.

“That’ll be her now,” Janis said, crossing to the heavy, fortified door and yanking it open.

Ian wasn’t expecting to see an older lady—maybe late sixties? She had long, frizzy hair tied into a half ponytail. Upon meeting Janis’s eye, her face brightened.

“Janis… I can’t believe you’re so grown up!” She wrapped her arms around the woman, squeezing tightly. Janis was stiff at first, but soon leaned into the hug.

After a moment, the two separated, and Janis turned to Ian.

“Ian, you need to promise me you won’t speak a word of this to anybody. Not Magic, not Addison, not Jenn—nobody.”

Ian grimaced. “You realise I get super anxious when I try to keep secrets, right?”

Janis looked into their eyes, pleading. “Ian, please. This is for Sam’s safety.”

Ian swallowed. “Okay. I promise.”

Janis let out a breath. “Okay.” She turned to the woman. “I’ll let you introduce yourself. It’s going to be the three of us against the world for a while. I hope not too long.”

The woman approached Ian. “I’ve heard a lot about you, and the other folks at the new project,” she said, extending a hand. “My name’s Donna. I’m Sam’s wife.”

“He has a wife?” Ian blurted out as they took the woman’s hand and shook.

Donna nodded. “It’s not exactly the most physical of relationships,” she admitted, “but I’m the only person he trusts with his secrets.”

“You’re… you’re the mysterious contact in Hawaii…”

Donna put a finger to her lips. “I haven’t been to the mainland in years,” she said. “And as far as anyone knows, I’m still in my little trailer on the old Beckett property.”

“Wh-what are you here for?” Ian asked, realising they were being entrusted with something phenomenally important.

“Because she’s our best chance of finding Sam,” Janis said.

“And if we find Sam in the present, then we can configure the leap detection system…” Ian said, putting together Janis’s line of thinking.

“Exactly,” said Janis. “So all we need to do is wait for Sam to make contact.”

“And how long will that take?”

Donna offered them a weak smile. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

Ian looked at the two women tensely. “Well, uh—guess we’d better get cracking.”