The night-air cooled me.
I closed my eyes and envisioned Susan's thick auburn hair, its fresh girl scent.
Why couldn't he just believe? I gazed southward where I knew sat the mountain.
On the mountain, Munter Meadow, was where the gate would appear for six minutes tonight.
One more day didn't seem like enough time for the task I had before me.
I felt in my pocket for the radio.
I had to make it to the gate; the radio Susan slipped me so quickly as I fell through the gate still had no signal.
Of course it could only work at certain times.
Maybe the gate would cause it to come on when it appeared, boost its signal.
But I couldn't depend on that backup plan.
I heard the clanking of horseshoes.
Voices echoed.
Right here on the edge of the field I used to lie in the tall grass with Angie while dad mowed trails for us to play in, isolating us into our own world.
We weren't afraid of spiders; they were as colorful to us as pictures in DC; puffed brown spider on web trailing over us as we crab-walked the grass, slipped in the dew.
The stiff grass slowed our marbles, agate, steely, so we'd call 'dropsy.
' Our field, golden, scarlet, joy-blue, heartache, sunset-yellow city, Paradise, which we discovered by the block chasing fallen kite-string over uncharted fields, haunted houses, gregarious trees; we rested in fruitful gardens, climbed barbwire fences, gave up string to power lines.
The full moon seemed touchable, its sunken craters near.
I'd always looked at the 1960s as a fantasy, like heaven, where you meet the shades of your past and live happy.
But here Cole worked ten hours a day to stay alive as a professional racer.
The dining table was meeting spot for Cole and Sylvia each morning to discuss over steaming coffee-cups the business of the day.
Who thinks of the importance of a garbage-bill due twenty years ago? It rated discussion in that rented house.
The Milkman didn't deliver for free.
Rent, electric, phone service, even the babysitter - money.
Who built Christmas each year, creating laughter for a couple kids? Maybe the milkman or the babysitter didn't work for free, but Cole and Sylvia did for little Trevor.
And I wanted to live long enough to create Christmas dreams for my little Jacob.
If I returned without the sample I could touch Susan again, but Jacob would be raised hearing only rumors of what I'd been like.
It'd been hard enough me losing Cole at age thirteen.
Jacob would have it worse.
"I've got to convince Trevor tonight," I whispered to the field.
"This time I'll be straight with him.
It's nothing to do with Cole anymore, just big Trevor and little Trevor.
I sidled over to the garage, lifted the timeless door.
Cole's CZ, a bike I owned in the future, waited.
Tonight.
I'd heard major events in the past can't be changed once they're history, but I wouldn't have been able to rest if I hadn't tried it.
I wanted to go home, but I didn't want the dad I'd adored from a distance to Part Company with me an enemy.
So I caught Cole as he came back from his ride, confronted him point blank.
"Don't race Memorial Day 1974, Dad.
Then you won't die, and Hank won't raise me and Angie up, mom won't give in to cancer, and everything will be nice.
" "Oh my god," Said Cole.
He walked straight from the front door to the back door and disappeared again into the garage.
"Why can't he just believe?" I said.
"What do you want him to believe?" Sylvia stopped crocheting.
"I don't know," I said.
"I feel a little dizzy.
"Pardon Cole," she said softly.
"He worries.
" "I know.
" I saw that look in her eyes, a look I sometimes thought was understanding; other times I feared it to be pity.
She didn't seem to have a notion of her family being threatened.
Sylvia put her hooks and thread away and stood in front of the couch.
"Let's drink something hot," she said, pointing for me to sit in a chair.
"I couldn't pass that up," I said, taking a load off while she brewed her magic tea.
Trevor snored in his bedroom not twenty feet away.
"You should give your heart to the Lord," she said setting my tea on a saucer next to me.
"That could be true," I said.
When I finished my tea I set the cup next to mom's red and blue crochet pile.
She disappeared.
I stood, crept to Trevor's room, and touched the door.
In forty minutes the gate would close to me forever.
I had to make little Trevor believe.
He and I only.
Poor kid, he had my past as his future.
I entered to see Trevor hugging his cotton quilt.
A motorcycle shrieked to me through the window as it passed by.
I looked at my watch.
Thirty-six minutes.
"You like Hot Wheels, Uncle Leo?" The voice startled me.
Trevor was propped up by cotton.
"Sorry, kid," I said, "didn't mean to wake you up.
" "Yes you did, Uncle Leo.
" His eyes glowed.
"How can I help you?" I saw Sylvia in his smile.
"Nice Corvette," I said, picking up a Hot Wheel from his night stand.
"In 2010, Trevor, this Hot Wheel will be worth over two hundred dollars.
" "Are you better from your heart attack?" Said little Trevor.
"Sort of," I said.
I moved the Corvette onto the night stand, felt Trevor's small fingers press the car into my hand.
"You keep it Uncle Leo.
I got thirty-two Hot Wheels.
" "Thanks, kiddo," I said, stuffing the Vette in my jeans.
I glanced at my watch.
Thirty four minutes, barely enough time to ride to Munter Meadow.
I felt in my coat for the communication device Susan had given me, touched the pitted plastic.
"Hey," I said, noticing his comics, "Who's your favorite superhero?" "Superman," said Trevor.
A flood of red, green, blue pictures of nobodies transformed by radiation into super beings.
"Of course you like Superman," I said.
"Superman's the strongest and fastest.
" He nodded, gripping Puddles tighter.
"Look," I said, "the stuff I told you...
about having powers?" "About Bob's Market, Angie getting grounded?" "Yes.
" "That horseshoe thing was great! How did you fool dad?" "I didn't.
I predicted all this stuff, but not with psychic powers.
Trevor, I am you.
" My hands trembled.
Only thirty-two minutes.
I felt for the bottle of pills in my pocket.
I had to make it.
I couldn't depend on that communication device or whatever it was.
It seemed to be broken.
It would've been easy to just lie down and dream.
"Uncle Leo," said Trevor, "tell me...
" "I'm not your Uncle Leo," I said, "I am you, Trevor Rogers.
I came to you because I'm dying.
" "What do you need, Leo?" "Fluid from your spine.
My wife is a doctor.
She can create a healthy heart for me out of fluid from your spine.
" "Will it hurt?" "Yes, terribly.
" A horrible moan erupted in the street followed by screeches and a long shriek.
Puddles struggled at the sound, almost ripping himself from Trevor's hands.
"Darn cats," said Trevor.
He hugged Puddles close.
"O.
K.
, Uncle Leo, what is it really?" "You don't believe me?" I surveyed the room.
The small window let in traces of light from the huge night street.
Crumpled socks covered a pair of dry summer dusted tennis shoes near door's flat edge, and something white stuck out of the corner of Trevor's pillow.
"So, Trevor," I said, "why you got a Superboy comic hidden under your pillow?" Trevor looked startled.
"How'd you know it was a Super boy?" "Why do you keep it under your pillow at night?" "I like comics.
" He pulled the comic out and looked at it.
"If Superman's your favorite hero, why do you keep Superboy under your pillow? "Superman is in this comic,' said Trevor.
"Trevor, I know you don't believe what I said.
" "About me being you?" "Trevor, can you give me a chance to prove myself?" Trevor's face calmed.
"I'm fair," he said in a deeper voice similar to Cole's.
"O.
k.
," I said.
"Trevor, I am you.
Remember that pitch in Little League t hat hit you high?" Trevor put a finger on his neck.
"Yeah," I said touching my neck, "We've got the same scar.
Look, I know that's not going to convince you, but I've got to try.
Remember that Pegasus kite you used to have? Yeah, I dragged that stupid kite through the field just like you, too stubborn to admit there wasn't enough wind for it to fly.
I crashed into the back of that pickup on my sting ray, tumbled over the handlebars onto the concrete.
Sound familiar? I don't want to die, kid.
" "How old are you?" "I'm from 2010.
" "How could you be from 2010? This is 1969.
" I felt a hardened wad of spent gum on the bed post.
"Trevor, your arteries are plugging up.
It's weakening your heart.
If you help me tonight there's hope help will be there for you in the future.
"In forty years?" "I won't lie to you; it'll get worse before it gets better.
" I waited, pulse pounding.
"Trevor, you want to be Cole.
He's tough, cool, lives life in fast forward.
But you're weak and it confuses you.
So you dream.
" It all fell into place in my mind like tiny fingers assembling a puzzle.
"Trevor, there's a reason you cherish that Superboy comic.
In it Superman marries Lois Lane and they have 'Superboy!' But Superboy isn't as powerful as his dad.
He's strong, but can't bend a bar of steel.
He's fast, but not quite as fast as a locomotive.
He jumps far, but he can't fly.
" In your imagination your dad is Superman, and you're Superboy.
"Cole's like a rock, but you're sand.
Reading that comic makes you feel better?" "But why Uncle Leo?" He looked guarded.
"Because in it you see you.
OK, Superman cares for Superboy, his half super son, so he uses the strange powers of red kryptonite to take away his own powers and give them to the son he loves.
" "Trevor's eyes lit up.
"To Superboy, yes!" He yelled, maybe dad...
" "No, Trevor," I said, "Cole cannot transfer his power to you.
" Trevor gasped.
He slumped into his sheets, his face buried in them.
I patted his shoulder.
"Superman loves his son," he said meekly.
"And your dad loves you, Trevor," I said.
"You are me," Trevor whispered.
He sat up, his face wet.
My heart pounded as I pulled a box from a pocket inside my coat.
"Yes, Trevor, I am you forty years from now.
" "What am I going to do? If it takes forty years to...
" "You'll make it, Trevor," I said.
"And when you meet her, Susan, it'll put a whole new meaning in your life.
" I touched the lump in my coat, my heart pounding as I waited for Trevor to mull the situation over.
I looked at my watch.
I had less than half an hour.
"You've got to go now, don't you?" He said.
"Yes, Trevor, I've got a woman and an unborn baby.
" "His name?" "His name will be Jacob.
" "Like in the Bible?" "Yes, Trevor, a name mom would be proud of.
" "OK," he said with a deep sigh.
"I'll do it.
" "Thank you, Trevor," I said.
I pulled out the long needle.
Trevor looked at me with fearful eyes but rolled up his sleeve.
"No, Trevor," I said.
"I must draw the sample from your spine, so you'll have to take off your shirt.
" My heart skipped as the needle tasted his spine.
I had twenty-eight minutes to get to Munter Meadow.
Would I have to use the radio, the fail safe device? "Moooom!" His scream echoed through the house.
The needle shook in my fingers.
A dog's irritating bark blasted my ears.
"Oh god, that hurts!" A gray liquid clouded into the syringe.
Trevor winced as I jerked the needle out and shakily put it in its case.
"I'm sorry, kiddo," I said.
"See you in forty years.
Tell dad he can find his CZ in Munter Meadow.
" "My baby!" I gawked as Sylvia appeared blocking the doorway.
"I'm so sorry," I said, and barreled through her, knocking her onto the living room floor.
Ignoring her pleas for help, I burst out into the yard, heart palpitating.
Her scream carried into the night air.
"Help!" I hopped on the CZ, kicked.
The engine sputtered to life, then quit.
I kicked it again.
The engine only coughed.
Twenty five minutes, and I was stranded.
A motorcycle howled a few streets up.
The emergency radio was my only chance to set up a new meeting spot.
I ripped it from my pocket and pressed the button.
This time a green light came on.
"Mayday.
Susan, are you there?" I spoke into the radio, but got no reply.
I leaped off the bike, slammed my fist against garage.
"Nooo!" I drew the radio back and heaved it into the middle of the field.
"Leo, how could you?" Sylvia wailed at me from the porch.
I shivered as a small point of light appeared up the street.
Cole's Harley.
"You need help!" Shouted Sylvia.
"I know I need help!" I screamed.
"If you'd just listen to me!" I fell to my knees, barely able to catch my breath.
The throb of Cole's Harley deafened me.
Then a louder roar erupted from the field, heightening into a high-pitched buzz.
Sylvia heard it too.
She stumbled onto the drive and gazed at the field.
We both shaded our eyes to the blinding wall of light.
Cole's Harley stalled up the road, but he was too busy staring at the intense whiteness of the field to care.
"I thought it was a radio!" I shouted.
"But she didn't mean 'station' as in a radio.
She gave me a freaking substation! Goodbye, mom, forgive me!" "No, wait!" I froze, looking back at her.
"I wanted more," I said.
" "What's going on?" Cole was running toward me.
He seemed to know what was going on.
Shouts carried to me from all sides as I plowed into the tall grass, my arms stretched out toward the light.
As I drew closer a gate appeared as the light's center and unfolded into a rectangle.
The siren vibrated into an unbearable pitch, and I caught a frail glimpse of a shadow I recognized as Susan.