Sam’s first thought was that he had to hide. He’d leaped into some alternate Maggie, and here was the real one, about to come face to face with herself.
He crouched, making eye contact with Quinn, whose gaze was shifting between him and the Sheriff, looking more amused than startled or worried. Maybe even relieved.
“Maggie, chill. Your double could be our ticket out of this cage,” said Rembrandt quietly.
Sam didn’t know about that, but he knew for sure that there was nowhere he could hide. So he returned to his standing position, as Sheriff Maggie reached the cell.
She stopped dead as she spotted him.
Here it comes…
“Uncle Sam…?”
Sam fell against the cell bars, weak at the knees. She couldn’t… surely?
“No, no, no,” Al said, looking about the same level of shocked as Sam felt.
“Oh my god, what–” Sheriff Maggie walked up to him, her surprise appearing to devolve into anger.
“You’ve been missing four years and you show up like some kind of reverse Houdini, locked in a cell of my jail? Is this some kind of joke?”
“I’m sorry, who’s ‘Uncle Sam?’ Other than the guy on the recruitment poster?” said Rembrandt, face screwed up in confusion. The other two were equally stunned.
“Him.” Maggie pointed at Sam, who felt himself shrinking. “He’s my uncle. And you three are…?”
“Do something, Sam…” Al urged.
Yeah, thanks Al. Always helpful advice.
“Uhh, how ’bout you get us outta here and we can… talk?” Sam said to Maggie, before giving a red-faced grimace to the three cellmates.
“I have some explaining to do.”
* * *
The Sheriff’s office was a spartan affair. It didn’t seem like Maggie cared much for this room. No photos on the desk. No knickknacks. Even the chairs were uncomfortable.
Sam wondered if she was doing okay.
His former cellmates were sitting silently, staring at Sam. Waiting for him to explain himself.
Maggie was seated at her desk, her face betraying her emotion over the discovery that Sam was alive. Though she wore a poker face, her eyes were glimmering with salty water.
Al was in the corner of the room, pacing.
“I don’t like this, Sam. It was one thing for you to tell those guys, but this Maggie is part of the original history.”
Sam looked at him directly.
“And what else am I supposed to do at this point, Al? The jig is up!” He spat.
As he knew would happen, the others in the room were looking from him, to the corner of the room they saw as empty, in confusion.
He turned to Maggie.
“You know my friend Al, right?”
She nodded. “The Admiral?”
“Yeah. Well, he’s standing right there.” He pointed to the corner. Al looked back at him with narrowed eyes.
“It’s not important why I can see him and you can’t, but… if you see me talkin’ to myself, that’s why.”
He turned to the dimension hoppers.
“And you guys. You see me as another Maggie, but I’m not. My name is Sam Beckett.” He let that sink in momentarily, before continuing.
“I promise your Maggie is safe, but she’s… with Al.”
Quinn straightened up. “On the astral plane?”
Sam tilted his head. “Astral-? No, she’s in the future.”
Rembrandt stood up, looking a little fed up.
“The future? Ohh, I think I need some air.”
He left the room, shaking his head.
“Oh my god, you really did it?” Sheriff Maggie said. “You time travelled? I knew about your theory, but the military was all hush-hush about the work you were doing with them.”
Sam met her eye proudly. “Yeah. I did it.”
“If I may…” Colin interjected. “Just why do you look like Maggie to us? And why does she not see you as Maggie?”
Sam thought for a moment.
“Well, my method of time travel involves switching places with someone, but the process kind of warps reality around me, projecting the image of the original person. On the other end, the person back in my time looks like me. Only, we don’t see that unless we look in a mirror.”
In his periphery, Sam noticed Quinn leaning in, transfixed.
“As for Maggie, well it must have something to do with the fact she’s the one I’m meant to look like, right? But I can’t say this kind of thing has ever happened before, so I can only speculate.”
Maggie rubbed her eyes.
“It does kinda sting my eyes to look at you. It’s like they don’t want to focus on you.”
Sam raised his eyebrows.
“Really? Huh.”
“Can I try something?” Quinn asked, standing from his chair. His voice was filled with a sort of excited curiosity. He raided Maggie’s pen holder and grabbed a Sharpie. He gestured for Sam to stand, and he obliged, not quite knowing where this was going.
“How tall would you say you are?”
“Uh, maybe a hair under six feet? Why?”
“Maggie’s way shorter,” he said, and pushed Sam against the wall before marking where the top of his head was. He then moved Sam away from the wall and stared at it for a moment, before gesturing to Maggie.
“Come on, stand here.”
Sam saw what he was doing now, and couldn’t help but smile as Maggie stood well under the mark on the wall.
“Nobody’s ever done this before,” he remarked to Al, almost laughing.
“This is spinning me out,” said Quinn, standing Maggie and Sam next to one another against the mark on the wall. He rubbed his eyes.
“Yikes. Whatever effect is going on here does not want me to look at this. I’m getting spots in my eyes.”
He turned to Colin, who’d already come up behind him.
“You seeing this?”
Colin nodded, squinting.
“It’s like the feeling you get looking at the sun.”
He broke away from his gaze and blinked several times.
Sam noticed Al also being affected by whatever this was.
“You two should probably step away from the wall now,” was all he could say as he rubbed his eyes.
Then, Ziggy made that moaning sound on his handlink that tended to denote an urgent message. Al looked down at it.
“About damn time, Ziggy.” He looked up. “Sam, we finally got a read on who you’re meant to help.”
Sam crossed to him.
“It’s gotta be her, right?” He said, gesturing to Maggie, who was looking at him inquisitively.
“Ninety-seven per cent. Looks like she’s going to disappear in three days, Sam. Presumed dead.”
Sam looked back at his niece, a knot forming in his stomach. Quinn was standing next to her, looking at him with a mischievous smirk.
“Sam, I wanna see just how a six foot man fits into a size six woman’s shirt and jeans.”
Sam felt himself going red.
“Like I said, spacetime gets warped around me. The clothing of whoever I leap into just sort of conforms to my body. Why do you need to know?”
“Because nothing feels as good to me as figuring out something nobody’s figured out before.”
With this, Quinn flashed a wide grin. It was an infectious one, and Sam felt moved to reciprocate, even though he was deeply worried about his niece.
“You make a good point there. I know the feeling.”
The door of the office opened, and Rembrandt came in, holding a cup of water.
“So,” he said, pausing for a sip, “Can’t help but notice it’s night out there, and we have to find a place to stay.”
Maggie sat on her desk, arms crossed.
“Guess you could crash at my place tonight, if a couple of you don’t mind the couch.”
She raised a finger. “Just remember, I’m the law around here, so no funny business.”
Sam met her eye, and he could tell she was having trouble keeping a straight face. After all this, how could she?