“I … you … what?” I feel like I’m back in the airport conference room, when Mr. Fernandez first told us we’d jumped ahead. I couldn’t process that information, and I can’t fathom what Walter’s saying now either.
I turn to Art for help. He looks equally astonished.
Walter nods so forcefully I’m afraid he’ll snap a tendon in his neck. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. PATROL knows how to get us back home, where we belong.”
“Back home,” Art echoes, his voice a strange mixture of disbelief and awe.
Mostly disbelief, but that hint of awe lets me consider it.
Home.
1995.
What if PATROL has figured out a way to return? Could I really go back?
Do I … want to go back?
I know if Walter had approached me with the offer to leap back into my old life three weeks ago, I’d have signed up without a second thought.
Mom and Dad the appropriate ages. Angie, younger Angie, always there to talk with for hours on end about anything from our favorite show to our biggest dreams. The Steve I knew, our sweet dates, and that feeling of anticipation that there might be more down the line. My grandparents all alive and well. The absolute certainty about my path in life. Even Bradley leaving stink bugs under my pillow and being a general pest.
Then there’s now. An uncertain path forward for so many reasons. My parents, the same people they always have been, but older. Angie here, but our relationship all broken. Grandma Elaine, as quirky and wise as ever but with limited time left. Bradley all grown up, but with a wife and two adorable kids I’m already in love with.
And also, Dylan. Funny, earnest Dylan, who will talk to me for hours about books and knows when to be serious and when to tease me out of being too serious and makes my heart trip with his gentle kisses and considerate nature. A boy who wasn’t even a possibility in 1995.
Then.
Now.
Then.
Now.
Now.
Now.
I choose now.
A lot of this new life sucks right now, but I find I don’t want to erase it. I’m stronger for going through this, enriched by knowing the Springs and Valerie and Captain McCoy and Art. Information is so much easier to access versus twenty-five years ago, which has its negative points, for sure, but will really help in my future career. Kira and Eli are the best, and I wouldn’t want to risk my presence in 1995 affecting Bradley meeting Kelly and them not being born. I especially can’t imagine a world without Dylan, which means, I realize, that I believe Angie and Steve were meant to be together.
So, regardless of whether PATROL has found some way to go back, I’m gonna pass. I am finally ready to join the twenty-first century.
But Walter clearly isn’t, and he’s buying this back-to-the-past story PATROL is selling. He’s obviously desperate. I need to find out more before they do something dangerous.
“Walter.” I relax my expression, hoping I achieve a sense of wonder. “How? It just seems so impossible.”
Art jerks in surprise. Based on his pressed lips, during those moments I was thinking through whether I’d want to go back, he was already formulating his arguments against PATROL.
“When I met Dr. Greaves, she explained she and Dr. Rozanov formed PATROL because the science didn’t line up with their studies on the possibilities of time travel,” Walter says. “At first, all they wanted was to make sure the right tests got performed, to figure out what actually happened.”
I really wish he’d get to the how, but since he’s backing up, I might as well get all the details for my story. “I thought you said her husband wanted her to check into it for his insurance company.”
“Oh, that.” Walter waves a hand. “Yes, he was pressuring her at first, but it turned out the statute of limitations on those insurance payouts is long past.”
“Of course it is,” Art mutters.
Ignoring him, Walter continues, “Once the politicians and others joined PATROL, things got out of control, and she got swept up in the media side of it. She had really thought we were a hoax, but when the tests came back, she wanted to believe it was real.”
“Why would anyone even attempt a hoax like that?” It’s a question that’s bothered me all along.
“Fame. Money.” He ticks them off on his fingers. “Lots of reasons.”
“I haven’t seen any money, and the fame sucks.”
Art snorts in agreement, as Walter nods earnestly. “So I decided to help her redirect PATROL and figure out the real secret to our time jump. And it worked!”
I have so many issues with what Walter just said I’m not sure where to start. Best to begin with the most unlikely claim. “You figured out why our plane traveled through time?”
“Not me.” He presses his hands to his chest. “But I helped. By proving absolutely that we had done it and providing the coordinates where it happened. So now, all we have to do is fly through the same portal and we’ll be back in 1995.”
“Is that what you’re doing tonight? Flying through the portal?”
“Yes! I have a plane ready.”
I blink. I didn’t actually expect him to say that. “Haven’t thousands of planes flown through the same place since 1995?”
“They have,” Art says. “And once we landed here, the FAA sent multiple drones along the exact same flight plan as Flight 237 to ensure there wasn’t anything like a portal before they let any commercial airlines fly it.”
I elbow Art and raise my eyebrows in a clear chill out signal. He’s thrumming with so much energy I half expect him to let out a sonic boom, and I’m afraid he’ll shut Walter down before I get the rest of the story.
“That’s what’s so brilliant about Dr. Greaves and Dr. Rozanov’s discovery. The portal moves,” Walter says triumphantly. “That’s why no other planes have jumped through it for the past twenty-five years!”
I’m about to ask why they’re so sure this portal will automatically send us back to 1995, since a moving portal seems just as likely to change destinations, but Walter isn’t finished.
“Dr. Rozanov—he’s the math and physics genius—has carefully calculated its location for tonight. It will open at Lambert Field for two hours, and he believes it’s our last opportunity for two years, so we have to go for it.”
“What kind of plane?” Art asks suspiciously, although toned down quite a bit. “Because I know you haven’t been recertified for commercial airlines, so I’m sure you’re not taking off from Lambert, and you can’t just fly any plane over the main airport without IFR clearance.”
Welcome back, plane groupie.
“I’ll be careful. Although”—Walter’s mouth twists—“the current coordinates are a bit tricky.”
“You’ll be careful?” Art bounces on his toes, gesturing wildly with his arms. He just can’t help himself. “You’ll be caught is what will happen. And then you’ll never fly again. They’ll take away all of your certificates and possibly send you to jail for falsifying your flight plan—assuming you plan to make one.”
Art’s so fixated on aviation details he seems to have completely missed Walter’s final, disturbing words. I have to get clarification. “Tricky how?”
“The portal’s at a low altitude, very close to a control tower. But it was built in 1997, so it won’t be there once we go through. It’ll be fine.”
Art and I exchange a look of dawning horror. I take the lead. “Are you saying you’ll be flying at the control tower?”
Walter shrugs. “Like I said, it won’t matter because the plane will go through the portal before the tower, which didn’t exist in 1995. It’ll disappear.”
“But what if it doesn’t?” It’s really hard to keep my voice calm, but I don’t want to spook him. “What if the portal isn’t there and you hit the tower? There are people in there. It’ll kill them. And you!”
I just thought PATROL was made up of a bunch of conspiracy theorists, but maybe now that they can’t discredit us any other way, they’ve decided Walter is the perfect Flight 237 scapegoat.
“Don’t worry, Jenny.” Walter pats my arm. “It’s going to be fine.”
“It’s not, Walter. And you wanted us to come with you?” Art looks genuinely freaked. “Don’t do this.”
“I have to. I need to set things right.” Walter starts turning toward his car, but looks back. “It only seemed right to invite you. The other passengers deserve the chance to go back too. Not just me.” He places his palm earnestly against his heart. “Or the doctors.”
Art stills, his energy finally channeled. “They’re going with you?”
I’m equally astonished. At the very least, they aren’t sending Walter on a suicide mission.
“Of course they’re coming,” Walter says. “We’ll prove their theory about the portal, and then we’ll come back for everyone.”
Is it possible Dr. Greaves and Dr. Rozanov truly believe they’ve found a portal to the past? It’s hard to wrap my mind around it, considering how they called our whole reappearance into question. But then, that group has been a mess of contradictions from the moment they formed. Even if they have bought into their own delusions, they’re putting other people at risk, and they’re going about it the wrong way.
I’m not sure reason will get through to Walter, but I have to try. “Is this the safest way to test the portal? What about a … drone or something? Then—just in case they’ve miscalculated—you won’t endanger yourself or anyone else.”
Walter backs away. “My life is already ruined. And I have no reason to stay here anyway.”
I don’t want to let Walter go, but if we don’t, will Dr. Greaves and Dr. Rozanov come up with some other dangerous scheme? I think we have to see this through. I realize what I need to do.
He’s half inside his car when I wedge myself into the door. “Walter, please. Where are you meeting them? I know Art doesn’t believe you”—I glance back at Art and gulp—“but I want a chance to fix everything.”
It’s due to the fact my definition of fixing things is different from Walter’s that I’m able to come across as sincere. He studies me for several moments before nodding. “Spirit of St. Louis Airport, twenty-two hundred hours.”
I back away from the car and watch him drive off.
Art joins me. He has his phone open to the voice memo app. “I got everything. Now what?”
“Now you call Agent Klein and tell her to get over to Spirit of St. Louis Airport by ten o’clock. She has a plane to stop.”