As Sam and the others sat in Maggie’s living room, recounting tales of their adventures in space and time, Maggie cooked a meal for the unexpected guests. Sam had offered to help, but she’d insisted he relax.
Sam felt envious of Quinn and his friends, who could always remember what they were doing the day before. His stories kept coming out vague and disjointed, when he encountered unexpected holes in his memory. As a guy who’d spent most of his life remembering everything he ever looked at, the gaps were all that more frustrating to him.
“Dinner’s on,” called Maggie, and the group got up. Sam noticed just how hungry he was. How long had they been in that cell? Five, six hours, maybe?
In the kitchen, the table was set out with five bowls of spaghetti.
Just spaghetti. Naked, untopped pasta.
Everyone sat in front of a bowl. Maggie began to eat, before catching the eye of Rembrandt. She lowered her fork.
“Not to be ungrateful, Maggie,” the singer said slowly, “but you got any… I don’t know, sauce or seasoning of some kind for this?”
Maggie responded with a sheepish look. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting guests. I usually order some Chinese or just eat some chips.”
She got up, and raided her pantry, which Sam could now see was near empty.
She grabbed a bottle of ketchup, and a salt shaker. She placed them on the table.
“This is all I have.”
Rembrandt cringed at the choice. He grabbed the ketchup bottle and squeezed some over the spaghetti.
Sam couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
“You getting enough vitamins, Maggie? Sounds like you don’t have a complete diet.”
Maggie stared into her bowl, poking at it with her fork. “I’m fine. No need to go all doctor on me.”
Rembrandt looked at him with a smirk. “Don’t tell me you’re a medical doctor too.”
Sam simply gave a shrug in reply and returned his gaze to Maggie. On entering Maggie’s home, Sam had observed that it didn’t feel very homely, and she was still living out of boxes. Like her office, her home just felt cold. And now he knew how she was eating; she didn’t seem to be comfortable in her life. Perhaps depressed, perhaps something else was bothering her.
The sliding door sound of the Imaging Chamber caught his ear.
“Sam, suspect numero uno for the disappearance is Maggie’s recent ex, William–”
“Colbert,” finished Sam. “Billy.”
The eyes at the table rose to look at him. He corrected himself.
“How’s Billy taking the divorce?”
Maggie twirled her fork, looking uncomfortable.
“Not good. He knows to keep away from me, of course; you don’t mess with the Sheriff. But he does border on harassment from time to time. Still, it’s better than when I was in the same house with him.”
She looked pained, and Sam wondered what he did to her behind closed doors.
Al interrupted: “He’s gotta be the culprit. Maybe he finally snaps and kills her, then has to cover up the crime.”
Yeah, maybe.
“He’s remained the prime suspect in the case for three years,” Al continued, “but they got bupkis on him.”
Sam had to figure out the best way to play this. Should he keep his cards close to his chest, risking less timeline flux and giving Ziggy a better opportunity to calculate the best course of action? Or should he just tell them all the truth, and hope that knowing about it could undo what was supposed to happen? There were significant advantages and disadvantages to either option.
Well, he had a couple of days. There was no harm in keeping it to himself for now and sleeping on the decision.
What he could do tonight, was take a look at the timer.
He glanced up at Al, then excused himself from the table.
“Where’s your bathroom?” He asked Maggie.
“Down the hall, last door on the right.”
“Thanks.”
In his periphery, he sensed Al following him to the bathroom, and when he got in there, he finally turned to him.
“Al, do you think the Maggie I leaped into ever knew a Billy?”
“Maybe? She knew a me. Recognised me as soon as she saw me. Seems like her world could be similar enough.”
He poked his head through the wall in the direction of the others, and then back. “Good to see you finally engaging in some secrecy, Sam.”
“I haven’t decided what I’m gonna do about this, that’s all. Don’t be surprised if I end up spilling the beans.”
“I gotta be honest, Sam: Ziggy’s threatening the silent treatment.”
“Humph,” he scoffed. “She would do that. Well, she hasn’t been much help this leap anyway, so she can sulk as much as she likes.”
Al made a sour face. “Now I know how a marriage counsellor feels. Not that I’d ever need to see one of them.”
Sam wondered, momentarily, why he’d feel the need to add that caveat. But the thought gave way to more important things.
“Al, listen: go back to Maggie, ask her if she has any insight into Billy. I need to know more about the guy. What he’s capable of.”
Al tapped on his handlink and the Imaging Chamber door opened behind him.
“Alright Sam. But she’s a pain in the butt to get any information out of, you know.”
“You should just tell her what’s going on here. She’ll find out when she leaps back anyway.”
“Yeah, well you try discussing forbidden topics while Ziggy’s lurking, waiting to give you an earful.”
He stepped into the doorway.
“Oh, to hell with Ziggy!” Sam snapped, before finding himself grinning sheepishly as he realised what he’d just said. He was thankful the computer couldn’t actually hear him here.
Al cringed at Sam as the door closed, and Sam realised that he’d already made up his mind about what to do next.
* * *
Maggie was reclining on a bed as Al entered the Waiting Room. She looked up to see him gawking at all the creature comforts she’d managed to get Ziggy to spit out of the walls for her: The bathroom, the vending machine, the armchair, and the bed on which she lay now.
“Jeez, you really made yourself at home,” he remarked, seemingly impressed. “Most people don’t figure out the voice commands.”
“You really should have all this stuff accessible from the get-go,” she chided. “How many people have just stood in here for days, without any stimulation, thinking they’d been abducted by aliens, Al?”
Al gave her a cynical laugh. “We did used to have a table, but the reflection tended to freak people out.”
Maggie looked toward the bathroom, where she had been able to access a mirror. “I admit, that is pretty strange. Good thing you prepared me for it. You probably should do that for everyone that comes here instead of clamming up; you probably traumatise people, you know.”
“Alright, precious,” Al said, narrowing his eyes and sounding like he’d had about enough of her telling him how to do his job. This only proved to make her feel good about having done it.
“So, what do you need to know this time?” Maggie asked, finally sitting up and planting her feet on the floor. He had only come in here when he needed information so far, so it was a safe bet that he was back for more.
“What do you know about a guy named Billy Colbert?”
Maggie’s face crinkled up as she heard the name.
My high school boyfriend?
“That’s very left-field. Yeah, I knew a Billy Colbert, a long time ago, back in Fresno. What about him?”
“The, uh, version of you we have on this Earth married him and finally broke it off in ’99.”
Maggie found herself recoiling from the thought.
“God, poor her.” She thought back to her time dating him. Rationed out his affection toward her, while expecting her to give him every spare moment of her life. It was stifling.
“I broke up with him when I was seventeen, after I caught him making out with Harriet Smyth. Then one day he gave her a shiner, and he got expelled. Neither of us ever saw him again, think he got sent to a school upstate. Dodged a bullet there.”
“So he is a bad guy!”
“I sure wouldn’t trust him.”
She watched him type furiously into his little flashing gadget, and it reminded Maggie that there was a ticking clock.
“Okay, now you throw me a bone,” she coaxed. “Can you find out how much time is left on our timer?”
“You mean that TV remote that’s been flashing zero all day?”
Maggie blanched. “Flashing zero?!”
Al shrugged. “Sam’s probably going to help fix it. Don’t worry about it. Between him and this Quinn guy, they’ll work it out.”
Maggie laughed nervously. “Yeah, and as soon as I start talking about physics, he’s going to know it isn’t me.”
“Oh, uh… they all already know. Turns out the other you saw right through the aura and now they’re all trading stories.”
Maggie sighed in relief. That was one obstacle surmounted.
He added, wryly: “It’s all very heartwarming. And it’s completely messing up history. Ziggy’s never gonna let me forget about this one.”
Maggie smirked. “For a computer, she’s awfully vindictive. Wanted an apology out of me for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Wait, she actually spoke to you?”
Maggie nodded. “Yes, and she’s not very user-friendly.”
“I resent that remark,” interjected the AI from the speakers hidden somewhere in the ceiling.
“Oh, you’re back,” said Maggie, unable to hide her annoyance. “Great.”
“I never left.”
Al shook his head, and addressed the ceiling. “Look, I know we’re all on edge, but we’re going to help Maggie, and Sam’s gonna leap out, historical record or not, okay? We just need to keep her protected a few days. That’s all.”
He met Maggie’s eye, and it threw him off.
“Uh, I mean the other Maggie.”
“What’s going to happen to her?”
Al looked like he was about to answer, but was preempted by Ziggy.
“Al,” she called out in a sing-song manner. This was enough for him to shut his mouth, and head for the door.
Maggie groaned, and laid back down on the bed.
“I can’t change history, what’s the use in keeping me in the dark?” she muttered, only half hoping Ziggy would hear.
“Oh, did I hear that you want it dark?” Ziggy said, and Maggie could detect a malicious streak in her voice that indicated she’d heard what Maggie said perfectly well. “Very well, Maggie. Good night.”
And the ambient light in the room blinked out, leaving Maggie in pitch darkness. She scowled. Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to antagonise the one keeping her in relative comfort. But, at least she might be able to get some shuteye.
“Good night, Ziggy,” she said bitterly.