chapter 4

In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again.

Walking down the street, Darcy remembered these words from Alice in Wonderland. She felt just like Alice. Jumping straight in, stealing the device, never thinking about the consequence or even how she would get out again. In another moment down went Alice.

  She often thought about this book, it had been her favourite as a girl, listening to her mum read it every evening, and they would laugh and giggle at the nonsense Alice found herself in. She was impetuous, jumped straight in and faced any challenge, just like Darcy, or so she liked to think. Her mum often told her that. You remind me of Alice. Sometimes I think this book is about you. Darcy smiled. They were fond memories.

Lost in thought, she barely noticed the headache. At first it was light, and Darcy carried on regardless. But, within seconds the pain intensified, agony pounding into the center of her brain. She stopped walking. Held her head tightly and screamed. The pain became unbearable. It was like a million nails suddenly hammered into her brain, being pushed deeper and deeper into her skull. She carried on screaming and then dropped to her knees, she was going to be sick.

A few passersby stopped briefly, wondering what was wrong, but walked on. Especially when Darcy vomited. As the pain flew round her head, flashes of memory started to pop in and out. Her parents. Her journal. The note in her back pocket. New research. Within minutes, the headache was gone and so were the thoughts.

She wiped her mouth, rubbed her temples, looked at the vomit in front of her and felt confused. There was an irritating pain at the base of her neck, a slight burning sensation, but it was slowly fading. This had never happened before and these headaches were becoming more frequent, Darcy wondered if this was a side effect of traveling through time. She should not be in 1980 and maybe her body agreed.

Now the headache had gone, Darcy felt different. It was difficult to explain, but her mind felt empty and clear. She got up and walked on with complete clarity and with purpose.

Retrieve the device.

That thought was running through her head, her sole purpose, but what was she going to do with it?

I’m getting the device because...

I’m getting the device because I need to...

The memories were fragmented, she felt like pieces of a puzzle were missing.

I’m getting the device because I need to Catch the train.

Quick enough, she remembered. Catch the 6:40pm train. She couldn’t understand why she had to catch the 6:40pm train and where was it going. Darcy rubbed her head. She had saved John Lennon. But had it proved her point about changing the past? She could not remember.

Save John Lennon.

Retrieved the device.

Catch the 6:40pm train.

A fog was clouding her mind, obstructing any thoughts she was trying to recollect. Now she had a new purpose, a backup plan. Did catching the train have a point to her plan? She thought hard, suddenly remembering that she wanted to start again in 1980 and try something else.

Catch the 6:40pm train.

Just then, someone tapped her on the shoulder. Darcy turned around. Standing in front of her was a man she recognized but could not put her finger on it.

  ‘Excuse me Miss. You dropped this.’

He handed her a train timetable, which was folded and worn. She took it tentatively.

  ‘Thanks,’ she replied hesitantly.

The stranger walked on and Darcy watched as he went down the street and disappeared. She wondered where she had seen him before, but could not remember, the fog was still clouding her mind.

Looking at the train timetable, it was well used and folded from being in a back pocket, opened and closed many times. Darcy opened it and saw that the 6.40 was circled in red. She remembered now. The 6.40 from Grand Central station would explode, killing everyone on board. Was she supposed to stop it, save everyone, and prove that things could be changed for the good?

Darcy pulled out her journal hoping to find answers. Maybe a note or an article about the bombing that would help her stop this disaster. 

She turned page after page and reaching the last page she sighed, unable to locate a single reference that would help. Normally, she was Meticulous about writing everything down. There was not a single note about a bomb, a train, or even a hint at something destructive. She thought it was strange that nothing had been marked. Flicking through again, Darcy thought, if this my second plan, why are there no notes? Snapping the journal shut, a sheet of paper that was tucked in the back fell out, gently drifting, till it landed on the ground. Picking it up, Darcy read the first line:

Subject: Darcy Freeman

The words had barely left her mouth when her brain reacted. Synapses fired and sent new messages through her mind, connecting pathways, and joining up old ones.  That sharp pain inside her head burst into life, the tiny nails hammering into her skull, hit her hard. Darcy focused on fighting the pain, she had to focus.

Staring at the document, concentrating on the words, she did her best to ignore the thumping pain in her head. Looking intently at the sheet of paper, the fog started to lift as floods of memory came back. Darcy remembered reading this, seeing the images of her escape from the basement.

It was like looking through old photos and reliving those memories, remembering all the details from the trip. It was coming back to her and the photos were forming in her brain. She remembered Jones and then pictured the man who had just handed her the timetable. It was Jones, the soldier from her time intent on catching her.

Darcy realized she had no intention of catching a train, she was on her way to retrieve the device and save John Lennon again. Darcy was confused. Why had Jones handed her a timetable?

 She looked up and down the street, but there was no sign of him. Holding the paper tightly, she noticed the note at the bottom, page 1 of 5. There was more. She needed to know. Darcy decided she had to get the other sheets; someone was messing with her head.

Subject continues to be responsive to suggestion and remains unaware of involvement.

While Darcy was reading the note, wondering what her next move was, Jones unexpectedly came running out of the side street, at full speed, heading straight toward her. His long legs were moving at speed as he bounded across the tarmac. He was breathing heavily. His face was stern and he was focused on Darcy.

She looked up to see him sprinting toward her, with purpose and steady. Before she could wonder why or even think of an idea, something responded inside. Instinctively, she launched into a sprint, easing from standing, to running, to sprinting. She was now moving at full speed toward Jones. He caught sight of her, flinched a little, losing some of the focus he had, but continued his run. They were heading for a collision, with neither willing to stop. Darcy was faster than Jones and was closing the gap on the long street.

After handing Darcy the timetable, Jones had walked on and disappeared out of sight, smiling to himself that the plan had worked so far, helping her to believe the suggestion was her own idea. Unfortunately, no one realized she had taken a sheet from the file and after reading the paper again, it had triggered her real memories, causing a malfunction in the implant. Her mind rejected the suggestion and the dormant thoughts that had been suppressed, came back. Todd and Pete had noticed the malfunction, watching on the monitor as the sequence change, numbers altered and patterns transformed. Todd had grabbed the radio and called Jones.  He was cross, ordering Jones to get Darcy immediately and bring her back to them.

Darcy was now only meters away from Jones, they would collide in seconds if neither stopped, but Jones would not give up. Darcy had already made the calculation in her head and as she approached Jones, she slid onto the ground at the correct moment. Any sooner and Jones would jump over her or too late, they would hit each other.

It was a painful slide; her clothes tore and shredded as she scraped on the ground, the coarse tarmac digging into the fabric and ripping it apart, as her momentum kept her going and soon enough her feet caught Jones’ legs. He was no longer focused and steady, there was fear in his eyes. The impact caused him to stumble forward, while his legs lifted off the floor and his whole body began to lean forward toward the ground. Darcy had stopped after striking Jones and she turned to watch him plant his face onto the ground, followed by his body. It was a nasty fall and Jones would be scarred on his face, maybe permanently or at least for some time.

She jumped up and in one swift movement sat on Jones’ back to prevent him attacking her. But he was already unconscious. The impact had knocked him out cold.

   ‘Jones.’ His radio buzzed a few feet away from him. ‘Report. Have you got Darcy?’

She recognized the voice.

  ‘Come in Jones. What’s your status?’ The radio crackled in between words.

She remembered the voice.

   ‘Jones. Are you there?’

It was Todd, her manager from New Research. What was he doing here, thought Darcy? She picked up the radio.

  ‘Todd?’ she asked. ‘Is that you?’

Just silence and static from the radio. She could imagine the panic at the other end as Todd heard her voice instead of Jones. Finally, the silence was broken.

  ‘Darcy. It’s so good to hear your voice,’ he lied. She could hear the confusion in his words because his voice was trembling.

‘What did you do me?’ Darcy replied coldly.

  ‘Nothing.’ He paused, looking for the right words. ‘You stole the device and we were sent to get it back.’

  ‘You did something to me. I’ve seen the papers.’ Darcy was getting angry, her head hurt and she felt sick. Silence again. Todd must be frantically looking through any papers he had laying around. The radio clicked, but Todd said nothing. It went back to static. Eventually he spoke.

  ‘What do you remember?’ was all he said.

  ‘Enough. It’s coming back. Now tell me what the hell you did to me?’ Her voice was raised and aggressive.

  ‘Why don’t you come in and we can talk this over.’ Todd had switched to a calm, soothing voice, rather than one of surprise. He was trying to reassure Darcy.

  ‘Talk. Is that code for kill?’

Todd laughed down the radio. It was distorted and high pitched.

  ‘Just talk, Darcy. Just talk.’

  ‘No.’

She turned the radio off to see Jones stirring and all she did was strike him on the back of his head with the radio, sending him to sleep. He would be sore when he woke up. She looked up and a man was watching her in a phone box from across the street. His eyes were wide open and he was frantically talking into the handset. He was calling the police. Darcy ignored him, got up, dragged Jones into a doorway, so he looked like a homeless person having a nap, and calmly walked on down the street.

Her own thoughts were slowly coming back to mind and Darcy remembered some specific details. It was like a fog lifting from a valley and slowly the landscape and buildings were coming into view. She was recalling things that she had forgotten or knew nothing about. Everything about her was false. She was not a lowly analyst, playing around with time streams, trying to save lives. Yet, if she was not an analyst, who was she? Darcy struggled to see any more details in her mind.

She closed her eyes and images flashed in her mind. One moment she saw herself in the gym, training, learning to fight, then sitting at three or four computers, being taught how to hack and cover her tracks. As the fog lifted further, the surrounding landscape was coming into the view. It was still misty but getting better. Darcy remembered the long days hiding, avoiding detection, learning how to be invisible. Clearly, she had special training, but why? The rush of information was flooding her mind and it was overwhelming. She was surprised to learn things she never knew. Darcy now understood how she was able to pick locks, fight someone or escape without detection. Who was Darcy Freeman? She was not sure. Everything was distorted between reality and fiction and it made her head hurt.

She stopped walking. Closing her eyes, the memory of her favorite book, Alice in Wonderland came to mind. It was being read to her; one of her fondest memories, but it was not her mother reading. She could not see who it was. The fog was too thick. There were still gaps. Darcy closed her eyes tighter, trying to force the memory back, but nothing was coming through.

What did Todd want with her? What had he done to her? Who was she?

The headache was still there, throbbing and pulsating round her brain. Tiny nails. She was going find the answer and stop whatever was happening to her. Suddenly, Darcy passed out on the ground.