Future Findings
13

I began my ascension up the steps leading to the entrance. I knew that if I waited outside too long, the police would arrive and there would be no chance of me getting in. It was 6:00 pm on August 28th, of 2308. It was a Saturday night, and the Youngs were working late. They had something new and powerful to release to the public, but it was also something illegal. They would die at the hands of the police tonight, unless I could save them. Their son would likely be at home, watching tv or eating dinner by himself. I needed them to get home and see him again. Donnie deserved that much.

There were quite a few stairs leading up to the first floor, and I took them three at a time. I considered full out sprinting up the steps, but decided that I could slow it down a little in order to lower the risk of being stopped and questioned. The building held a multitude of of varying small technology firms. I doubted that there would be any real security in the place, save for an older security guard that couldn’t climb more than one flight of stairs without needing a break. Luckily for me, I was right.

The first floor consisted of a coffee shop, a lounge, and a corner office where the guard sat and studied monitors all day. The door was open, and he was leaned back in his seat. His large stomach hung over his belt, and he was either passed out or resting his eyes. Either one worked fine for me. The elevators-- two of them-- stood just to the right of the coffee shop. The line for coffee was minimal, and the lounge was deserted, except for what appeared to be a homeless man catching a few winks at a table against the wall. Wonder if he’s good for business, I thought.

I went to press the button, but found that there was a sign over it. It had two simple words on it: Not Working.

“Shit,” I muttered underneath my breath.

“You’ll have to take the stairs, they’re at the back of the lounge,” the barista, a teenager that seemed to hate her job said. Just my luck. The top floor was 18, at least that’s what I read on the sign next to the elevator. The top floor held two offices. The Youngs, and the Blacks. The Youngs were to the right of the elevator, while the Blacks were to the right. Reluctantly, I backed away and made my way to the stairwell. It was a few feet away from where the homeless man sat. Naturally, as I passed, I took a glance over to him.

He was facing me, though he couldn’t see me. His eyes were closed, and his ratty brown hair hung over his forehead. Scraps of something that appeared to be a sandwich hung to his beard, and mismatched, dirty, and dull clothes hung loosely off of him. I looked at his chest, and noticed the golden chain hanging off from around his neck. It seemed to be genuine. Why would a homeless man have a golden chain? Why wouldn’t he sell it? Why hadn’t it been stolen yet? At this point I had stopped walking. My eyes were fixed on his chain when I realized: his chest wasn’t rising. The telltale sign of life-- a body rising and falling in a silent and steady rhythm, was not there. He wasn’t breathing.

I wanted to get to the stairs and start climbing them. I figured that he was dead anyway, there was nothing I could do for him. But what if he wasn’t? What if he had that little ounce of life left in him, and me leaving would mean a death sentence. What if I could help him, even bring him back from the brink? I stepped closer to him, and before I could help myself, I ran to make up the distance faster. I gently pulled him out of the chair and onto the floor.

“Help me! Someone help me!” I screamed. The security guard stayed asleep, and the barista only looked at me. But a man (with the beginning stages of Monster Mutt,)at the rear of the coffee line understood that I needed help, and jogged over. By the time he reached me I was pumping on the man’s chest and breathing down his throat every once in a while. I had no idea how to do CPR, but had seen enough cop shows to know that I had to keep both his lungs breathing and his heart pumping. So I did my best. The man had pulled his phone out and was about to call 911 when I stopped him. The sound of sirens were already approaching.

“Don’t bother, they’re already on their way,” I told him. He gave me an odd look, but didn’t respond. I continued with CPR for a little while-- until I decided that I had no spare time left. I still had to get Donnie’s parents out. “Do you know how to do this?” I asked the man that had come to my aid.

“Um, no.” Fuck.

“You’ll do fine, the police should be here soon. Just keep pushing on his chest-- it’s to keep his heart pumping. And don’t forget to give a few breaths every once in a while.” And with that, I was off. My arms were tired from the CPR but my legs were just fine. Though I was sure that I wouldn’t feel the same after 17 flights of stairs. I pulled open the door that led to the landing, and quickly slid inside before anyone called to me. The door shut behind me, and all sound left. It was perfectly quiet in the stairwell. So quiet that I soon became aware of the sound of my own heart, and of the blood rushing through my veins. I pulled myself out of my daze, and ran over to the stairs.

I took them a few at a time, not bothering to hold on to the railing or check for people walking down the stairs. I tripped multiple times, but got back up immediately afterwards. By the 8th floor I was utterly exhausted. But too much depended on me to stop for a break. Two human’s lives were hanging on by their fingertips. By the 12th floor; I lost the feeling in my calves. The burn had turned into white nothingness, and I wondered if there was enough blood getting to my legs. My head was woozy, and I felt like passing out every time the staircase swung around to head the other direction. By the 13th, I heard the police enter at the bottom floor. I didn’t dare look down at them. If I could see them, odds are they’d see me too. On the 17th floor I felt like crying-- my body hurt so much. But I was almost there. The cops, who were obviously in better shape than me, were already on the 7th floor. Two more to go, and eleven more until they catch up to me. Can I spare a second or two for a break? Hell no.

On the 18th floor I caught my second wind. I burst through the door and out into the hallway. The Black’s office was right in front of me. Their door was closed and the room was black. But off to the right, on the other side of the broken elevator, a dull glow illuminated the carpet. It was the Young’s room. I sprinted across the open area. My legs felt like jelly, but I was almost there. Their door was open, and I rushed into it and threw it closed with a SLAM! Two people, Donnie’s parents, looked at me with alarm.

“Who are you?” Billy asked warily.

“We don’t want any trouble…” Leroy trailed off. He was in a button up shirt, sporting suspenders and a black tie. She; a full length rose colored dress and a matching headband to fit over her sand colored hair.

“You have to… of here,” I shoved out between breaths. My hands had dropped to my knees, and spots of black were growing in my vision. It wouldn’t be long before I blacked out, or the police got here.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Leroy bellowed. He had stood up and taken a few aggressive steps toward me.

“Listen,” I shouted. Leroy and Billy did. They heard exactly what I wanted them to-- the sirens. He rushed over to the window, and gasped once he saw the street.

“God lord! There’s so many!” he exclaimed. Billy didn’t need to see for herself, she knew that the police had surrounded her building.

“Why are they here? Are they here for us?” Billy asked the room in general.

“For you… your creation,” I spoke up. I had no idea what their invention was, but I knew it would get them into trouble. I had taken a seat on the floor, and was just focusing on staying conscious. The both of them looked at me with confusion in their eyes. Then, in harmony, understanding dawned in their eyes. They knew what I was talking about, and they knew the danger they were in.

They both began spouting words out, at such a speed that it sounded like goop to my pulsing and red ears. I lifted a hand to them, and they both immediately went quiet.

“You wanna see your son again?” I asked them. They both shook their heads. Billy was up now, her arms crossed in defense in front of her chest. Leroy had each of his hands in the shape of fists at his sides. “Is there a way out of here? Other than the staircase?” I asked. If there wasn’t, despite all my work, they were screwed. And now I was screwed with them. They both stared blankly for a second or two, evidently lost in deep thought. Then, Leroy’s face lit up.

“The elevator.” he beamed. Oh God. I’m dead, I thought. He must have seen the look of utter defeat on my face, and continued on. “No, listen. It’s broken, but it’s up here. It’s on the top floor. It’ll fall once we get in, for sure. But we just might be able to slow it down enough to be safe. It’ll drop all the way to the basement level. And that’s where our car is. But--” Oh no. “why would the cops hurt us? What we did, what we made isn’t illegal in any way,” he said. Then why were the police here? Then it hit me. The Baker Company bribes the police to look the other way. What if they bribed them to get rid of some competition?

“The Bakers. Ring a bell?” I asked. Leroy’s eyes opened in astonishment.

“We’re working on a-uh- a time machine of sorts. But it’s rough. And we’re not sure if it works. Laura Baker offered us a deal for our company, and the plans to the machine.” It all makes sense. The Youngs created the time machine, and Laura paid the police to kill them so they couldn’t have the rights to it. So I’m here because of them.

Everything eventually comes back around.

“Then let’s get you out of here. Leave the machine.” I knew some rough ideas about how time travel works, and assumed that if they took the plans for the time machine with them, I wouldn’t be able to come back here and save them in the first place.

Billy took a deep breath, looked at her husband, and slowly nodded. Leroy gave the same look to me.

“Alright,” I said. “Let’s get to work.” They both headed out of the room, making their way to the elevator. Leroy was able to pry it open with the help of his nails and the pen he had in his pocket. There it was: the elevator cab. Billy rushed in, and had the panel off in a matter of seconds. I was watching them do this from the floor of their office. In between spots of black and shuddering breaths. They were whispering together, and occasionally smiling. It was going to work.

Eventually, Leroy walked back to me. Billy stayed in the cab-- working on the wiring still.

“You ready?” he asked me. Oh, no. I smiled, and shook my head from side to side.

“You can’t take me, Leroy. I’ll only slow you down.” A tear slipped down my cheek, I knew that today would be my last day.

“What? No! You saved us, and now it’s our turn to save you,” he said with such power that I wanted to believe him. But the boots were audible in the stairwell, and that meant they had less than a minute to get out of here.

“Go,” I said, trying to mimic power and authority. It came out as a childish squeak. Leroy only looked at me. “Go!” I said again, but with more force now. He still only stared at me. One final time, I screamed “GO!” It seemed to work, and Leroy ran back to the elevator. His tie was flapping to the side of him, and for a second I had the odd notion that he would rip his shirt off to reveal a superhero outfit. But today, he wasn’t the hero. I was. That was a first.

Just as he set his back foot in the cab, the stairwell burst open. Men and women in full S.W.A.T. gear stormed out. They had weapons raised, and were screaming something that I couldn’t quite make out. They saw Leroy and Billy just as the door was closing. They hadn’t seen me yet-- I hadn’t moved off of the floor. The two people in front pointed their guns at the elevator, and I screamed before I could stop myself.

“WAIT!” my voice seemed to shatter the the floor in front of me. Nearly all of the men swivelled their guns toward me, and opened fire. I died there on the floor of the Young’s office-- a death that would be hidden from the public, as I had no ID. But they made it home to their kid, they made it home to Donnie. I was mowed through with over thirty bullets, each one striking my skin and ripping through bone, muscle, and organs, before it popped out the other side. The last thing I saw was Leroy and Billy in the elevator, but they weren’t alone.

Angus stood to the side of Billy and towered over her. He was staring at me, a look of calm focus plastered on his face. And there was Beck in front of him. She had tears in her eyes, but was managing a small smile that didn’t quite meet her slate gray eyes. Donnie was there too, standing in front of his parents. He wasn’t looking at me, instead he was fixated on his father. Tears were in his eyes, too. Matt and Troy and Laura and even Genie stood in the cab. It was crowded in there, more crowded than physically possible. Just as the two doors had almost met, I saw him.

He was standing directly in the middle of the elevator, with his feet spread slightly apart. He was sporting that god awful green turtleneck again. His right hand was up in the air, waving excitedly at me. There were no tears on his face. Instead, there was a smile. A smile that spread from ear to ear.

Eddie had a smile on his face, and it made me smile too. I died with him in my eyes, and I died happy.

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