She stalked away from the camera at that point, and I could see her back as she dug through a pocket in the traveling bag and pulled out a small opaque bottle with a label that I couldn’t make out. Katherine shook the bottle at the camera.
And this… I was looking for his tooth powder, since I forgot to pack mine and this was in his bag. Cerazine. Of all things. He knows we are absolutely forbidden from taking any out-of-timeline articles—including pharmaceuticals—on a mission. He knows better.
When I confronted him, he said that it was also prescribed for his headaches. How stupid does he think I am? Cerazine for headaches? That’s total bullshit. I looked it up just now and exactly as I thought—its only purpose is as an anti-cancer agent. That’s it.
Maybe his intentions were good. He mentioned before that he was pretty sure one of the ministers he’d met had skin cancer—I’m sure he was just trying to help. But he has to understand the risks… he can’t just…
And yes. I know, I know—I should write this up in my mission report anyway, regardless of his good intentions, or I should at least talk to Angelo about it. I know that.
The anger seemed to be draining away, and Katherine sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes closed. She didn’t speak for about twenty seconds, and then continued.
He swears it won’t happen again—he apologized for putting both of us at risk. He picked me the prettiest spring bouquet afterward. He just stood there, face like a sad puppy, with the flowers in his hand, saying how he’d been incredibly stupid and how he loves me so much.
And he does. I know he does. So I forgave him and we spent the rest of the day making up. Saul can make it really easy to forget why you were mad at him in the first place, until he does some other stupid…
I just wish he’d think before acting sometimes. He’s so impetuous, and CHRONOS rules are in place for a reason. He can’t just make an impromptu speech or give a friend a bottle of Cerazine—you never know what difference even a tiny change could make in the timeline.
I just wish he’d think…
The video ended, and I scanned a few more day-to-day entries before clicking on the visual for 04262305_18:22.
Katherine was dressed in what looked like business attire, a form-fitting gray jacket with a light blue scoop-necked shell underneath and a string of small black beads around her neck. Her hair was pulled back and her eyes were pink and a bit puffy around the edges, as though she’d been crying but had tried to hide the damage with another application of makeup.
So much for these damned implants being foolproof. I was really hoping it was just a stomach bug I’d picked up on the mission to Boston last week. One hundred and sixteen days—which would mean it happened after the New Year’s Eve party.
And now—I don’t even know if I want to tell Saul. He lied about the Boston trip. That wasn’t just a whim, and it wasn’t the only time he’s spoken at the meetings. I think he’s using a different name and maybe that’s why the CHRONOS computer checks haven’t caught any anomalies. But I spent this morning in the library—near the bathrooms in case the nausea hit me again—and I found several references that have me worried.
There are some scattered mentions of a traveling minister named Cyrus in the late 1800s and an entire article in something called the American Journal of Prophecy from September 1915 on how, at a small church somewhere between Dayton and Xenia, Ohio, this Cyrus predicted the Dayton Flood of 1913 in vivid detail—nearly forty years before the actual flood. He even pointed to a boy in the congregation and predicted that his home would be destroyed and that they would find a pig floating down the city street in his automobile. In 1877, no one was quite sure what an automobile was, but the comment was documented in an editorial in the local paper, and sure enough Danny Barnes found a pig sitting in his Model T as it floated away down a city street after the 1913 flood.
And the article talks about the rumors of miracles—dozens of healings that Brother Cyrus supposedly performed in the Midwest. Tumors. Pneumonia. Arthritis.
This isn’t my specialty, but you don’t live and travel with a religious historian for nearly three years without picking up the gist of it. I’ve heard Saul mention Sister Aimee, Father Coughlin, and dozens of others—but nothing about this guy Cyrus. And I doubt it is a coincidence that the dates when Brother Cyrus visited these towns sync up perfectly with several of Saul’s jumps.
Brother Cyrus is Saul. I’m positive. This is all wrapped up with that lunatic Campbell and the others at his club.
And I also don’t think it’s a coincidence that Cyrus is the name of Campbell’s damned dog—that gassy old Doberman who snarls and snaps at anyone who comes close.
Katherine took a swig of something from a pale blue bottle labeled Vi-Na-Tality. She grimaced as though it was sour and then rubbed her eyes, slightly smearing her makeup, before she looked back at the camera.
I have to tell Angelo. I don’t have any choice. My only question is whether to talk to Saul first—to try to reason with him. Maybe if he knows I’m pregnant—maybe he’ll realize this isn’t a game, that our lives and careers shouldn’t be jeopardized due to some academic wager with Campbell. Saul loves kids—I think he’ll be happy. And then if we go to Angelo together…
She shook her head and sighed.
They are going to kick him out of CHRONOS. I can’t see any way out of that. But maybe if he tells them everything, they’ll let me stay—even if we’re together. And at least one of us will have a decent job—he could stay with the baby or maybe they’d just let him do background research.
She massaged her temples briefly and closed her eyes.
He’ll be home soon. He’s been with Campbell and his other idiot friends all day. I’m scheduled for a solo jump tomorrow morning at nine. I’m going to try to talk to Saul tonight, and then with him or without him, I’m going to talk to Angelo tomorrow.
If it wasn’t for the baby, I’d say to hell with him. But if Saul ends up on a labor farm, this kid isn’t going to see much of his—or her—daddy. And maybe things will go okay… there’s so much good in Saul. I just can’t believe that he’d…
A deep sigh and then Katherine leaned forward to stop the recording.
A gentle rain had begun outside while I watched the April 26th entry, and I heard a light pawing at the screen door. The earpiece brought in the sound from the journal so clearly that almost all background noise was canceled out. Judging from the reproachful look that Daphne gave me, she had been scratching at the door for a while. I was repaid for my negligence with a secondhand shower as Daphne shook vigorously to rid herself of the rain that had collected on her auburn coat.
Connor had come in around twelve thirty, while I was watching the journal entries. He hadn’t said anything—just grabbed a fork and a plastic container of some sort from the fridge—so I assumed that lunch, like breakfast, would be just me and Daphne.
There were several other plastic containers in the fridge, but I had no idea what they were or how long they’d been there. I poured a glass of milk and began to forage through the pantry, eventually coming up with bread and peanut butter. The peanut butter was smooth, rather than the extra chunky I prefer, and there was no jelly other than mint (yuck), so I sliced a banana on top of the peanut butter and switched the journal back on, watching while I ate.
The last entry in the diary was dated April 27th at 0217 hours. When Katherine reappeared on the screen, I drew in a sharp breath, nearly choking on a bit of sandwich.
She had taken off the jacket and was wearing only the blue sleeveless shell. Her hair, which had been pinned up neatly before, was in disarray. The necklace was gone, and the angry red line around her throat made me suspect that it had been ripped from her neck. Her lower lip was split, and she held a small white pad against her right cheek, which was swollen. When she spoke, her voice was small and flat.
Saul knows—I mean, he knows that I know. I didn’t even get to the part about the baby—I didn’t dare, not when he was screaming at me that way. Maybe I should have started with that part… maybe he wouldn’t have—but, no. I don’t want him to know about the baby. Not now.
I think… I think he’s gone crazy. I’ve never seen him like this… so angry.
Tears were pouring down her face and she stopped to collect herself before continuing. The traveling bag I had seen on the bed in an earlier video was neatly packed, but the rest of the room had been trashed. A large tube-shaped object that might have been some sort of lamp was shattered and the painting that had hung above the bed was now on the floor, with a huge rip in the center of the canvas.
When I told him that we needed to just go to Angelo and tell him before someone else discovered the same violations that I had, he began raving that I didn’t understand the good that CHRONOS could accomplish if we harnessed the tools that we had at our disposal to change history, instead of just studying what century after century of idiots had created through their mistakes and blundering. About how this was his destiny and that Campbell had shown him that people just needed a strong leader to help them create the world that could be and should be. He had a plan, he said—and he wasn’t going to let a bunch of academic fools at CHRONOS determine the fate of humanity.
And all the while, he kept hitting me. Saul never hit me before. Even when he was really angry, he would hit the wall or break something, but never…
I finally lied—I told him that he’d convinced me. That I loved him and we wouldn’t go to Angelo and maybe I could help him change things. Just to make him stop. But he got this cold look in his eyes. He didn’t believe me. And then he left.
I don’t know where he’s gone, but I’ve bolted the door. If he comes back, I’ll call building security. I’m going to try and get a few hours of sleep and then I’m going to CHRONOS Med so that they can… repair this.
She pulled the pad away from her swollen cheek and gently touched the area, wincing at the pressure. There was a small abrasion near the cheekbone.
I’ll tell them… something. I don’t know. Then I’m going to talk to Angelo. He usually gets there by eight when we have jumps scheduled.
But… I’m going to message him first. Tonight. And I’m going to copy Richard on the note. I’m scared of what Saul might do—and if something happens to me, somebody at CHRONOS needs to know why.
I had been so immersed in the journal that I didn’t realize Katherine was sitting across the table from me, a cup of tea and some apple slices in front of her. It was an odd sensation to look up from the younger, battered face in the video and see the older version, calmly sipping her tea.
“I just reached the part where Saul left,” I said. “What happened the next day? Could they really repair your face?”
Katherine laughed softly. “Yes. There were quite a few improvements in medical care, and a minor dermal injury like that was a pretty easy fix. If we were still in that era, I wouldn’t have these wrinkles at such a young age, either. That’s one—of several—medical advances that I’d love to have access to now.”