Epoch Escape

I couldn’t fall asleep the night after the arrest. I didn’t understand what was happening. My thoughts darted back and forth. What happened? Is it true? Duvall was a teacher, a mentor to children. How could be he arrested for exceeding Predictive Limits? We were all taught as children, the importance of remaining in our timeline for predictions. Kevkara’s Law of Predictive Limits was put in place to keep the world in order; to keep our lives on schedule with the Maker’s Time. My mind continued to run, and then sputter. I was so tired from worry and so confused from trying to reason out why my husband had broken the one directive that he was supposed to protect.

Finally, I looked at the plastic container with a single white tablet that I had saved for a rough night. I’d only ever taken TARs, Time Anxiety Reducers, for my epoch-flights and not for other purposes, as I know a lot of others had, but if I had to have a reason to, this was it, and this was my only TAR left over from my last epoch-flight. If I ever needed to shut off my brain, it was now. I sat up and poured myself some water from the carafe on my nightstand, opened the container, placed the pill on my tongue, and sipped the water. Sleep didn’t come instantly, but it did come.

When I awoke, my eyes were blurry and took longer than usual to focus. I still felt as though I were in a dream. And while I couldn’t remember what I had been dreaming, I remembered the feeling of being pulled, as if something was dragging me. I felt dizzy when I remembered what had occurred the night before, nauseated. I wondered how anxiety-riddled my mind and body were. It must have affected my subconscious. I noticed the dryness of my mouth was only adding to the sick-feeling and reached for the glass of water I had poured earlier. It wasn’t there. I must’ve knocked it off during my overactive dream, I thought. As I began to sit up, I realized my turning stomach wasn’t a leftover affect from my dream, it was because I was moving. Rather, I was being moved. Suddenly, my brain switched on and I looked around me. The bed on which I was sitting was not my own. The room I was in was small, containing only the bed, a small red chest, and a wooden chair. I looked at the only source of light, a large window, and saw trees swishing by rapidly. I shot out of bed and stepped toward the window. Almost pressing my face to the glass, I looked left and right, up and down. I turned quickly to stare at the opposite side of the tiny space. There was no door. Then I knew. I was on the train.

_

I didn’t know the Maker’s Train was real, not just a story to scare children into following the rules, until I turned 18. That’s the age when everyone in Kevkara learns the truth. Each year of our childhood, from the moment we can form complete sentences, we were taught about epoch-flight and Predictive Limits. Some Kevkarian children didn’t have the gift. Those were the tormented children. They were verbally abused and outcast by the gifted. But the ones who could achieve epoch-flight, like me, didn’t know that we were the actual unlucky ones. Sure, we were told about the train, The Maker’s Train, often. As children we believed it to be a legend told to frighten us into submitting to the Law of Predictive Limits. Our childhood epoch-flights were more like fantasy fulfillments or premonitions to keep us safe. Epoch-flight was achieved by deep concentration and controlled by only what we had already experienced. For instance, the epoch-flight of a toddler could only predict a future within the realm of their current life. They don’t know what exists outside their small world, so they cannot use epoch-flight to enact too much change. As children got older, they realized epoch-flights could envision a future within half your current lifespan. At age 12, I could foresee a future at age 18. I could see myself and my life during Ancillary school, then return to my current Primary school self and make small changes to “fix” anything I wanted changed about that predicted future. But at 18, it all changes. The epoch-flights are increased to a limit of twice your age. And you learn that the Maker’s Train, the stuff of legend, is real.

-

I couldn’t believe I was there. I hadn’t broken the law. It was Duvall who had. If he had. This wasn’t how things were supposed to happen. I shouldn’t be punished for his mistakes.

I needed to think. My brain was still foggy from the TAR. What were the stories about the train? I know there was something I had to do should I ever find myself there. Weren’t there supposed to be instructions? As I watched the trees fly by, seemingly speeding up, I remembered the red chest. I turned around and stepped in front of it. When I knelt down to open it, my wooziness escalated, and I fell to the floor and sat staring at the chest. It was made of metal and painted that deep blood red, similar to the colors in the rest of the room. It couldn’t be considered a trunk because it was so small. I saw a combination lock with a letter on each of the seven buttons: C, D, E, F, G, A, B. No, it can’t be. The Maker’s Train was frightening, but we were taught that instructions would await us if we found ourselves in the unfortunate embrace of this locomotive. If the instructions were in the chest, I had no idea how to get them out. I yanked on the lock hoping it would fall open. It was secure. It was such a strange configuration, that I was not sure I could figure out the correct sequence to press the buttons. I looked around the room again and something struck a memory- the scrolled reddish brown painted border at the top of the cabin. I stood up to get a closer look and realized I had seen that before and it wasn’t a scroll. It was musical notes. They were faded, but they were there. I recognized the tune instantly because I had sung it every year of my childhood at the annual Maker’s Children’s Ball, an exclusive party for those of us that held the gift of epoch-flight.

-

While growing up in Kevkara, the annual ball was all anyone could talk about around the equinox. As children, we were treated like royalty because the adults all knew the secret about the Maker’s Train, and we were still innocent with pure minds. Each ball, without a doubt, was the highlight of our childhood that year.

People from all over Kevkara attended. Of course, it was invite only, for the families of children with the gift. There were games and prizes such as an extra week added onto to your epoch-flight allowance. The adults didn’t get such pleasures because their epoch-flights already went to the allowable legal limit. There was also an assembly during the ball, which is where we gathered on the grandstand to sing our songs. The adults would chime in as well, because they had to sing it each year of childhood as well. After the assembly, the dancing began in the Maker’s Ballroom. This usually marked the beginning of the end of the ball, as multiple families exited to journey home.

The Maker gave a gift

To each of us for growing

And with the special gift

we are no longer unknowing.

The Maker’s gift is perfect

And a blessing to us all

Epoch-flight fills our lives

From the time that we are small

The perception of our future

Is shown to us through flight

We can save our own lives easily

Just by getting it right

The Maker gave this gift

To allow us to refine

Our lives and our minds improved

Epoch-flights from the divine

-

As I sang the song out loud, I tried to correlate it with the combination lock, but there were no words with just those letters. I sat thinking and humming the tune and realized the notes on the musical staff were the letters on the lock. I looked again at the room’s border and quickly entered the first seven notes of the familiar tune in order: CAGABCA, and the lock clicked open.

I opened the lid, and the interior of the trunk was a velvety black. It looked dark and empty, but as I leaned further in, I saw a yellow envelope laying at the bottom. It was the only thing within the trunk. I slowly lifted it out and opened it. The letter was on time-paper. I could tell by the weight. That meant that there was a time limit to whatever my next instructions are. My hand covered my mouth as I gasped. I immediately recognized the handwriting as I unfolded the paper within.

“My dearest Amelia, I know you are frightened right now and I know you are angry and confused. I cannot explain in a letter what I did or why I did it. Please understand that I had to. I had to break Predictive Limits in order to save the people of Kevkara, and in order to save you.

What I need you to do now is to get off of the Maker’s Train. It is not as impossible as we’ve been told. There is a way.

As you know the train increases speed as time passes. It appears to be moving dangerously fast after only a few hours, but the truth is far different. The windows are an illusion. The force you are feeling is not speed. It is simply a combination of interior air flow increasing and the false windows’ video playback speed that mimic movements. The train, just like we are taught, is used for punishment for breaking the Law of Predictive Limits, but it doesn’t kill you. The illusions are used as a tool to drive the train’s passengers into a state of madness that causes a loss of memory of reality. They lose their ability and forget about epoch-flights entirely. All the scary stories we heard as children, while based on fact, were made up to scare us into compliance. And when, at 18, we learned that the Maker’s Train was real, no one thought to question the validity of the stories.

But I did.

I’ve been using my resources as an educator to learn the history of the Maker’s Train and the reasons behind the Law of Predictive Limits in our epoch-flights. You see, we were only ever taught we could use the epoch-flights to see into our future, but I found out epoch-flights can also be used to see the past.”

I had to stop reading. I didn’t understand what Duvall was writing. How could epoch-flights see the past? Why wouldn’t we be taught this in school? Do others know? I was so angry at him for keeping this from me. He had to have been working on this for a while. And I still didn’t know why I was on the Maker’s Train and why there were no instructions to be found. The train felt as if it was getting faster by the second. Maybe it was, or maybe Duvall was telling the truth.

-

I remember my first epoch-flight. I was only two and a half years old, which was the average age for a first flight. And, as was typical for the first time, it was involuntary. Sitting on my playroom floor, I suddenly froze. My eyes glazed over and nothing in the room was in focus. It was as if I was outside looking in on myself. I watched as I walked around my bedroom. The light through the window was dim, so it must’ve been nearing nightfall. As I neared my bed, I stepped on a small block and tumbled to the floor, face first. The ball that had been in my hand rolled across the room underneath my bureau. The carpeted floor was soft, so the fall didn’t hurt me, and I pushed myself up quickly and crawled toward the bureau to retrieve my ball. It had rolled further back than my arm could reach, and as ask I squeezed myself below it, the cabinet shifted and fell. It fell on top of me. Suddenly, I was back in my playroom, my eyes refocused and I began crying. Mamma quickly came to my side and held me. Calming me down, she told me I was okay and that I’d had my first epoch-flight. At that young age it was difficult to understand, but it meant that I would begin Primary school the following week. And about 2 months later, I was walking into my room at nightfall with a ball in my hand and fell over a block. When the ball rolled under the bureau, the memories of that first flight surfaced. I called for Mamma to help. My first epoch-flight had saved me.

-

“I’ve done it. I’ve gone into the past during epoch-flight. And not just my past, all of our pasts. I’ve been far enough back to know that the Maker’s Train and what we know of the Maker’s Time, are not fact. We’ve been misled by everyone. I do not know if even those that taught us know the truth, or if they were only using the knowledge they were given, as we were. If I’ve calculated correctly, you’ve been on the train 5 hours. If that is the case, then there isn’t much time. You must follow these instructions closely and I promise you will make it out and all will be revealed. First, you must get out of the cabin. There is no door, and the window won’t open – remember it isn’t a window. If you look closely at the wall behind the bed, there are panels. One of those should open for you. This will lead you to a crawlspace between cabins. It is very narrow and hard to see. I am counting on your blind trust at this point to get into the space and slide toward what appears to the outer wall of the train. You will meet another wall in about 6 feet. If you push hard enough, the wall will give way and you will find yourself in a hallway. You must remain against the wall or the Maker’s eyes will see you. Keep close and move right, this is where your cabin ‘window’ would have been. After about 10 steps, you will find a ladder. Climb it and push your way into the ceiling, then you will see your escape route. The small drop ceiling is surrounded by tinted windows. Anyone of them will open with a latch. Now, what I am about to instruct you will sound more impossible than anything you’ve ever done. Please trust me. Get to a window and unlock it.”

Suddenly the words on the paper began to fade. The time-paper was erasing. I quickly looked down to the last line of writing as the words disappeared.

The sense of urgency began as soon as the words faded. I stood up from my spot on the floor in front of the chest and moved over to the bed. I started pushing on the wall panels until finally, one gave way. It opened into a dark crevice, and I couldn’t see anything inside, but I had to trust Duvall. Up until last night, I’d never doubted him. I climbed through the wall and felt around. It was extremely narrow and I couldn’t turn my body in any direction. I began moving toward what appeared from my cabin to be the outside of the train until I felt another wall. I pushed again on this wall and light shown through allowing me to look back into the darkness where I’d just been. I peered out into a long hallway. There was no movement, no people, no guards, but I felt I was being watched. I slid myself out into the hallway per Duvall’s instruction and pressed up against the wall. There was a ladder only a few feet away, just as he said. As I moved slowly down the wall, I realized I was on the other side of what had appeared to be the window in my cabin and it was just a solid wall. It was an illusion, a screen made to look like a train hurtling through the land. I continued to move against the wall and got to the ladder just as I heard a noise behind me. Someone was in the hallway. As quickly as I could, I climbed through the ceiling and pulled myself up, just before I heard a guard shout “Stop!” I didn’t have any time left now, so I crawled to the first window I could get to, unhooked the latch and looked out. It was so dark, that the only dim light was from the window I’d just opened. I couldn’t see, but I knew immediately that I wasn’t on a moving train. The air was still and humid. I had come this far. I hadn’t been able to read all of Duvall’s letter of instruction. I wasn’t sure what to expect at this point. As I heard someone climbing into the crawlspace behind me, I remembered the last line I’d seen. So, I did what he wrote.

I jumped.