Rewind (3 page)

Ripley had to force his bedroom door open against a pile of old clothes. They slid into the room, sweeping puffballs of dust before them.

“How can you live like this?” Lianna asked.

Ripley picked up the pile and tossed it onto a wicker basket full of mud-encrusted football gear. “The butler’s on vacation.”

Her lips curled in disgust, Lianna sat on the edge of Ripley’s bed.

Adam set his backpack next to her. He pulled out the other pack and placed it on the bed. The unmarked manila envelope peeked out of the open zipper. Taking out the videocamera, he ejected the tape.

Rrrrrrip.
Lianna was tearing open the manila envelope.

“What are you doing?” Adam cried out.

“It might have ID.” Lianna pulled out a sheaf of newspaper clippings. “Oops. I’m sorry, Adam. Why didn’t you tell me this stuff was yours?”

She held out the pile. From the top article, a headline jumped out at Adam.

TEN-YEAR-OLD EASTON BOY FALLS THROUGH ICE, DIES

Death Could Have Been Averted, Police Chief Says

Adam quickly paged through the others.

Inquest Rules Death an Accident
…
Suspicions of Foul Play Investigated
…
Easton Parents Demand Safety Referendum …

All clippings about Edgar’s death.

Fresh clippings. With straight-cut edges, unyellowed by time. Police memos, hospital notes, detective reports—stuff Adam had never even seen before.

What on earth
—
?

“They’re not mine,” Adam said.

“Who else could they belong to?” Lianna asked.

“I don’t know!” Adam replied.

“And why would anybody be carrying them around?”

Good question.

The camera, the clippings. The backpack.

Whose?

Why?

“Maybe the guy is a reporter. Or a cop.” Ripley took an article from the top of the pile and began reading: “ ‘Ten-year-old Easton native Lianna Frazer was lauded by the Easton Chamber of Commerce for her heroism in response to a tragic accident in which horseplay during a hockey game led to the drowning of Edgar Hall, also ten. Her quick actions in summoning adult help were credited for saving the life of Alan Sarno…’ Well, at least they got one name right.”

“This is
too
weird,” Adam muttered.

“Okay, simple explanation,” Lianna said. “These belong to your parents. They fell off a shelf into the backpack.”

Adam shook his head. “When I opened the backpack last night, this envelope was already in it. I saw it.”

“You
thought
you saw a lot of things last night.”

“You…are…being…followed,” Ripley intoned dramatically, picking up the videocamera and pointing it at Adam. “Uh-oh. Bad news. The camera, she is broken.”

“I could have told you that,” Lianna said.

The camera. Think about the camera, Sarno. Worry about the clippings later.

“Actually, this is why I wanted to come here,” Adam said, measuring his words. “See, the camera
isn’t
broken.”

“Look for yourself.” Ripley held the camera to Adam’s face.

Adam took it and looked through the view-finder.

Blue.

Blue wallpaper. Blue bedsheets and carpets. He was staring at an image of Edgar’s room.

And then he saw Edgar.

His feet were propped up on his desk. He was fiddling with a handheld video game. Avoiding homework:

Oh my god.

He was alive.

Happy.

The indicator light read January 13. Edgar died on the fifteenth.

He had two days.

Warn him!

“Ed —” he blurted out.

Adam cut himself off.

This was insane. Edgar couldn’t hear him.

As he put the camera down, Lianna and Ripley were both staring at him.

“Uh, Earth to Adam?” Ripley said.

“I—I saw—” Adam stammered.

Don’t tell them. They won’t believe it.

Let them see for themselves.

Show the tape.

Adam grabbed the tape from the bed and put it in Ripley’s VCR. He rewound it and pressed
PLAY.

The screen blinked to life.

A fuzzy image took shape. Bed. Dresser. Hockey uniform on the floor.

Yes.

YES!

“You see?” Adam blurted out.

“Adam, that’s your old bedroom,” Lianna said.

“
Exactly.
When I was ten.” The view began to shift—just as Adam remembered it, moving around as he had moved the camera.

“This is what you wanted to show us?” Ripley said. “Your very first home video?”

“You didn’t have a videocamera when you were ten, Adam,” Lianna remarked.

“Right. I recorded what you’re seeing with
this
camera. When I look through the lens, the camera sees the past. The place is right, the time and day are right—but it’s all four years earlier.”

“Four years?”
Lianna gave him a sharp look.

She gets it.

“January thirteenth. Two days before Edgar died. Which means—”

“You expect me to believe this?” Lianna asked. “Why can’t I see any of it? Why can’t Ripley?”

“I don’t know!” Adam replied.

Ripley reached for the remote. “This is ridiculous. I have to go—”

“Wait,” Lianna said. “What’s
that
?”

Something in the image was moving.

Not a solid object, really. More like a distortion in the air, a shimmer in the shape of a human.

Adam’s shape.

It passed into the frame on the right side, then out again.

The same path I took this morning when I started to go to breakfast. In and out of the past. The first time the room blipped.

The shape reappeared.

Yes. When I stepped back in. To look around.

It wandered across the frame, stopping at the window, reaching behind the headboard, trying to pull the book off the shelf…

Adam could barely breathe.

I am not insane.

The scene I saw was real. It’s on tape.

And I was in it.

“Now,
that’s
pretty cool,” Ripley said. “How did you edit your image in like that?”

“That’s me!” Adam protested. “I stepped in front of the lens, and I was in the image. In the past. Well, maybe not totally, physically. You saw the shape. Maybe just a part of me was there. My body aura or something.”

Ripley nodded solemnly. “Or your body o
dor.
Sometimes that takes on a life of its own.”

“Adam, you’re scaring me,” Lianna said.

“You don’t believe me?” Adam asked.

Ripley burst out laughing. “I believe you are seriously, seriously ill.”

From the TV, Adam heard a faint whistling. He turned to look.

The image was still. The angle was low, about waist level.

The camera was resting on the desk. I was downstairs, eating. I’d left it on.

Another figure was entering the frame.

This one was not a ghostly shimmer.

It was Adam. At age ten.

Me.

I’m watching me, not knowing I’m being watched.

Ripley narrowed his eyes. Lianna watched intently.

The younger Adam pulled the sheets up on his bed. Then he grabbed some books from his dresser and quickly stuffed them in a backpack.

As he was about to leave the frame, he stopped.

Leaning down, he picked up a book. Even in the dim light, the title was visible.
Time and Again.

The ten-year-old Adam looked puzzled. Wondering how the book got there.

Only the fourteen-year-old Adam knew.

A tape. We should have planned for this.

He is resourceful.

But the girl—must not know.

Nor the boy.

Perhaps we should pull the project.

Give it time.

“A
DAM, THIS IS CREEPY.”
Lianna paced the room.

I can convince her.

“I saw Edgar,” Adam blurted out. “A few minutes ago, when I looked through the lens.”

Lianna blanched. “But you
couldn’t.
Edgar is dead.”

“Not four years ago. Not yet.”

Ripley glared at him in disbelief. “You superimposed images over an old cassette.”

“Then how did the
image
move that book?” Adam asked.

“Coincidence,” Ripley said. “It fell.”

“I pulled it down!” Adam insisted.

Ripley grabbed the camera and thrust it toward Adam. “Okay, time traveler. You have special powers? Prove it.”

Adam’s fingers closed around the videocamera. He looked for a place to set it down.

No.

You’ll be in the same room as Edgar.

Inches from him.

Knowing he’s about to be killed.

And you won’t be able to do a thing.

“I can’t,” Adam said. “Not here.”

“I thought so,” Ripley said with a grin. “Okay, guys, we’ve had our fun. I have hockey practice in ten minutes.”

“Adam?” Lianna said. “Was this all some kind of joke?”

She was glaring at Adam. Disappointment, accusation, betrayal, and fear all passed across her eyes.

He was losing her.

His only possible partner.

Do it, Sarno.

Stand up for the right thing once in a while.

He slid a pile of papers to the back of Ripley’s desk and set the camera down. “Okay. I changed my mind.”

He turned the camera on.

Lianna’s eyes fixed on him.

Ripley yawned.

Slowly Adam stepped in front of the lens.

“I still seeeeee you…” Ripley taunted.

Blip.

Adam felt a momentary pull. A smear of color, the
pop…

And then, blue.

Edgar’s blue.

Adam was facing Edgar’s mirror. It showed an empty room.

No reflection. As if I’m not here.

He moved closer.

And he saw the room wasn’t empty.

Edgar was behind him to the left. Still sitting at his desk. Writing. His back to Adam.

It hurt to see him. Worse than Adam expected. He felt it sharply in his gut as he turned around.

He wanted to yell out. Warn him.

But Adam was a phantom. A ghost. Invisible and silent.

How can you be sure?

Try it.

“Edgar?” Adam walked closer, his voice little more than a whisper.

Edgar didn’t turn around. He was writing intently.

Adam looked over his shoulder. Edgar was recording hockey statistics. Goals and assists for each player. Game by game.

Several columns were full of numbers. The right side was blank—the upcoming games, beginning January 16.

Games Edgar would never play.

Reach him.

Adam lifted his hand. He placed it on Edgar’s shoulder.

He could feel the fabric. Barely.

But Edgar wasn’t reacting.

REACH HIM!

Adam tried again. As if the touch would pull Edgar away from the lake. As if it would shield him, protect him from death.

Edgar dropped his pen.

With a flick of the wrist, he swatted his shoulder. Right where Adam had touched it.

Blip.

The surroundings melted into a brief swirl of blue.

Ripley’s room instantly materialized around him.

Ripley was holding the camera. The red light was off. “Enough,” he said.

“What are you doing?”
Adam pleaded.

“Not Oscar material,” Ripley remarked. “I’d say C plus for the hysterical emotions, but A minus for the pantomime.”

“Pantomime? But Edgar was— couldn’t you see?”

“Adam,” Lianna said, “you were here the whole time, doing all these strange gestures.”

This is not happening.

Adam took the camera out of Ripley’s hands, set it back on the desk, and turned it on. “Go. Somebody try it besides me!”

Ripley grinned. “Escape into the past!” he cried, grabbing Lianna by the waist.

“Ripley,
no
!” Lianna screamed.

But it was too late.

They were both standing in front of the lens now.

Lianna was sweating, glancing around uncertainly.

A look of wonder passed across Ripley’s face.

He sees it!

“Can you hear me?” Adam called out. “What do you see?”

“Oh, wow…” Ripley said. “There’s Washington crossing the Delaware…Lincoln emancipating the slaves…
Leave It to Beaver
making its season premiere…”

Lianna rolled her eyes. “Ripley, you’re a jerk.”

PROGRESS REPORT

Subject: Adam Sarno

ACCEPTANCE SUBMENU

Phase 1. Discovery. PASSED.

Phase 2. Facility. PASSED.

Phase 3. Commitment. PASSED.

Phase 4. Fulfillment.

E
DGAR FELT MY TOUCH.

Adam bounded down Ripley’s back stairs and lifted his bike upright off the grass.

“So I can take it?” Ripley asked.

Adam heard the words, but they weren’t registering.

Which means I can do something. I can affect the past.

“HELLO?” Ripley shouted. “ARE YOU HEARING ME, ADAM?”

“Huh?” Adam said.

“Read my lips,” Ripley said. “Can I take your videocamera? To try to fix it?”

Adam slung the backpack around his shoulder. “It’s not broken.”

And it may help me save a life.

Somehow.

If he could make his presence felt, maybe he
could
warn Edgar. Prevent him from going to the lake.

Lianna was riding her bike in slow circles on the driveway, lost in thought.

“Oh, you have plans?” Ripley asked. “Maybe a trip to ancient Greece tonight?”

“Stop it, Ripley!” Lianna spoke up. “You just want to figure out how
you
can travel into the past.”

Ripley’s jaw dropped. “Whaaaat?”

“Maybe he sees something we don’t,” Lianna said. “And you can’t deal with it.”

“Whoa, Lianna, you’ve been hanging around the Time Nerd too long. Come with me to practice. Slap a few. Come to your senses.”

Lianna glowered at him. “You know I hate hockey.”