The Time Travel Chronicles by Robert J. Sawyer, Stefan Bolz, Ann Christy, Samuel Peralta, Rysa Walker, Lucas Bale, Anthony Vicino, Ernie Lindsey, Carol Davis, Tracy Banghart, Michael Holden, Daniel Arthur Smith, Ernie Luis, Erik Wecks
Authors: Robert J. Sawyer, Stefan Bolz, Ann Christy, Samuel Peralta, Rysa Walker, Lucas Bale, Anthony Vicino, Ernie Lindsey, Carol Davis, Tracy Banghart, Michael Holden, Daniel Arthur Smith, Ernie Luis, Erik Wecks
Ads: Link
tale—the destruction of CHRONOS headquarters—and his decision to use religion as a cudgel to bludgeon history into shape are what set the story in motion. The final book in the series, Time’s Divide , is scheduled to launch in October 2015, if you’re interested to discover how his little game wraps up.
If you’re a history buff, Jemima Wilkinson’s story is real. After her miraculous “resurrection” as the Publick Universal Friend, she built a ministry of several hundred followers, supported in part by Judge William Potter and his family. Historical accounts tell us that Wilkinson predicted the “dark day” that fell over New England in 1780, the very same day that Potter’s daughter, Susannah, died. Or did she? While writing this story, I stumbled upon a second record that suggests Susannah lived for several more years. Could this be evidence of timeline contamination?
I’m delighted to have Saul’s story here in The Time Travel Chronicles . If you enjoyed “The Gambit,” you can find the full CHRONOS Files series at Amazon ( http://www.amazon.com/author/walker ), with additional stories in the CHRONOS Files World at Kindle Worlds. On my website ( http://www.rysa.com ) you can sign up for my newsletter, which should be monthly but in reality is just when there’s a new release or other big announcement. I love to chat with readers on Twitter, and if you find me there, or on Facebook ( https://www.facebook.com/Timebound ), please, please, please tell me to get back into the writing cave .
Beasts of the Earth
by Ernie Lindsey
T HE DELICATE TEACUP CLATTERED against the bone white saucer. On a cold morning in late autumn, Dutton Quinn watched his wife push her Earl Grey to the side and begin massaging her temples.
“Headache again?” he asked.
“No. Just another… Forget it. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Wouldn’t understand what , Jess?”
“Sometimes you… Sometimes you act like she was never here.”
Her words felt like sharp claws across exposed skin. “That’s not fair. I think about her all the time.” Dutton gripped his newspaper tightly for a moment, then flung it across the kitchen. It thrashed through the air, pages falling, flailing like wounded birds. “Are we really doing this again?”
“Doing what?”
“Every. Single. Day. Every goddamn day, I think about how I couldn’t save her. And you pile it on with this bullshit.”
Her voice was soft, as if the words themselves were uneasy about being heard. “You could at least show it a little.”
“It’s been almost a year.” Dutton beat on his chest with a fist. “It’s in here . Just because I’m not standing on the street corner with a bullhorn doesn’t mean—”
“Nobody knows that. Not even me, Dutt, and if it makes me wonder, then of course they’ll talk. People are starting to ask questions.”
“Like what? Who?”
“Just people, Dutt.”
“ Who , Jess?” Dutton turned to the bay window. Outside, snowflakes floated through pine boughs and across the dying grass. “I hate this, and I hate that you keep doing it to me.” He slammed his palm on the table. Teacups clattered and spoons danced off the edge.
Jess slumped back in her chair, arms crossed. “Don’t take it out on me.”
“Take it out on you ? You’re the one accusing me . I’m not the asshole here.”
Jess shoved up from her seat, the chair legs vibrating against the hardwood floor. “You’re such a jerk.” There were no tears. Those had dried up weeks ago. Now there was nothing left but the hardened, cracked layers of a riverbed gone dry.
He watched her go, and didn’t chase after her. The fights were getting worse.
The front door slammed. Dutton returned his attention to the window.
The drifting snowflakes fell peacefully, quietly reaffirming that Mother Nature took no notice when a star went dark. The world continued to turn.
Life without their daughter, Lucy, was just as gray
If you’re a history buff, Jemima Wilkinson’s story is real. After her miraculous “resurrection” as the Publick Universal Friend, she built a ministry of several hundred followers, supported in part by Judge William Potter and his family. Historical accounts tell us that Wilkinson predicted the “dark day” that fell over New England in 1780, the very same day that Potter’s daughter, Susannah, died. Or did she? While writing this story, I stumbled upon a second record that suggests Susannah lived for several more years. Could this be evidence of timeline contamination?
I’m delighted to have Saul’s story here in The Time Travel Chronicles . If you enjoyed “The Gambit,” you can find the full CHRONOS Files series at Amazon ( http://www.amazon.com/author/walker ), with additional stories in the CHRONOS Files World at Kindle Worlds. On my website ( http://www.rysa.com ) you can sign up for my newsletter, which should be monthly but in reality is just when there’s a new release or other big announcement. I love to chat with readers on Twitter, and if you find me there, or on Facebook ( https://www.facebook.com/Timebound ), please, please, please tell me to get back into the writing cave .
Beasts of the Earth
by Ernie Lindsey
T HE DELICATE TEACUP CLATTERED against the bone white saucer. On a cold morning in late autumn, Dutton Quinn watched his wife push her Earl Grey to the side and begin massaging her temples.
“Headache again?” he asked.
“No. Just another… Forget it. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Wouldn’t understand what , Jess?”
“Sometimes you… Sometimes you act like she was never here.”
Her words felt like sharp claws across exposed skin. “That’s not fair. I think about her all the time.” Dutton gripped his newspaper tightly for a moment, then flung it across the kitchen. It thrashed through the air, pages falling, flailing like wounded birds. “Are we really doing this again?”
“Doing what?”
“Every. Single. Day. Every goddamn day, I think about how I couldn’t save her. And you pile it on with this bullshit.”
Her voice was soft, as if the words themselves were uneasy about being heard. “You could at least show it a little.”
“It’s been almost a year.” Dutton beat on his chest with a fist. “It’s in here . Just because I’m not standing on the street corner with a bullhorn doesn’t mean—”
“Nobody knows that. Not even me, Dutt, and if it makes me wonder, then of course they’ll talk. People are starting to ask questions.”
“Like what? Who?”
“Just people, Dutt.”
“ Who , Jess?” Dutton turned to the bay window. Outside, snowflakes floated through pine boughs and across the dying grass. “I hate this, and I hate that you keep doing it to me.” He slammed his palm on the table. Teacups clattered and spoons danced off the edge.
Jess slumped back in her chair, arms crossed. “Don’t take it out on me.”
“Take it out on you ? You’re the one accusing me . I’m not the asshole here.”
Jess shoved up from her seat, the chair legs vibrating against the hardwood floor. “You’re such a jerk.” There were no tears. Those had dried up weeks ago. Now there was nothing left but the hardened, cracked layers of a riverbed gone dry.
He watched her go, and didn’t chase after her. The fights were getting worse.
The front door slammed. Dutton returned his attention to the window.
The drifting snowflakes fell peacefully, quietly reaffirming that Mother Nature took no notice when a star went dark. The world continued to turn.
Life without their daughter, Lucy, was just as gray
Similar Books
