Like Father

“Did you want another one, Frank?” The older bartender surveyed the dim flickering lights of his dingy establishment as he posed a question to the sole patron seated at the bar. The lights cast dancing shadows across the worn furnishings, and the overall tone of the corner pub screamed mediocrity. The space, while accommodating for a handful of regulars with tales etched in time, remained far from suitable for larger gatherings.

Frank Stevens, at the vibrant age of twenty-five, found solace in the quietude of the establishment. The middle-aged man behind the bar, a fixture in this realm of stories and fleeting moments, appeared strangely familiar. As the conversation unfolded over the past hour, Frank couldn’t shake the feeling this was more than a chance encounter.

“No thanks, old timer,” Frank replied, his gaze studying the lined face of the older keeper of this modest drinking hole. “It’s going to be a crazy night for me. I just needed one or two to get the edge off, and they’ll ring the alarms if they notice I’m gone. Duty calls.”

The cool condensation on the beer bottle served as a fleeting distraction as Frank contemplated the events ahead—the pinnacle of his career, a government-sanctioned experiment, and the audacious pursuit of time travel.

The older bar owner, attentive to the nuances of his patrons, studied Frank’s demeanor and couldn’t resist prying into the young man’s mystery. “So, why would a young man like you feel the need to take the edge off? What could you possibly have going on?” He inquired, deftly removing the empty bottle and wiping the countertop with a damp rag. “Looks like it must be pretty important. I can see the nervousness; you’re trying to hide it, but it’s coming out.”

“It’s important, alright. I can’t talk about it, though. Don’t want to jinx anything.” Frank rose from the bar, leaving payment with a generous tip. “Thanks for the drink… Sorry. I didn’t catch a name.”

“Higgens. Morty Higgens. That’s my name, son. Don’t you go forgetting now,” the old timer smiled, a nod to the transient connections formed in the ebb and flow of time.

“Morty. That’s a good name. You take it easy, Morty.” Frank stepped into the night with those parting words, leaving the pub behind. The wheels of destiny started turning.

* * * *

“Is everything okay?” Adam directed the question at his lifelong friend as they navigated the familiar corridors of the underground facility, a second home where dreams took shape. Their destination, the transport room, held the embodiment of a once-impossible machine, now a tangible reality—a testament to their shared ambition.

Frank thought of the transport room - his life’s work. Steel walls adorned with intricate circuitry and flashing control panels surrounded the chamber. In the center stood a futuristic apparatus, the heart of the temporal endeavor. Angular metal arches formed a portal that, when activated, created a shimmering gateway to anywhere in the past. Multicolored lights danced along the edges of the portal, suggesting the manipulation of forces beyond standard comprehension. Only the brightest minds had been enlisted; the government spared no expense in finding scientists from abroad willing to defect for such an endeavor.

“I’ve never felt better,” Frank assured Adam, a confident smile gracing his face. The attire, a throwback to twenty-six years prior, was a deliberate choice for a test run only Frank would undergo. The government-sanctioned experiment teetered on the edge of possibility, and Frank, propelled by youthful exuberance, embraced the unknown.

“I covered for you. Again. I hate it when you sneak out. We’re supposed to remain in the facility at all times, especially the night before the damn launch.” Adam snickered, clad in a white lab coat that swayed with each step. He couldn’t suppress a chuckle as they strolled past coworkers with the necessary security clearance. The camaraderie mirrored their college days, a sense of mischief underlying the gravity of their current endeavor.

Frank acknowledged Adam’s cover-up with a knowing grin. “I didn’t doubt, for a second, that you wouldn’t take care of it. And I knew you’d understand why I needed to escape this claustrophobic underground base and get a little real-world time in before entering the old world.” As they continued walking, Frank marveled at the outdated clothing. “Can you believe people dressed like this?”

“Yes, I can, but that’s not what concerns me right now,” Adam confessed.

“What’s bothering you?” Frank inquired, his nerves beginning to act up.

“You know the government has a ton of willing volunteers willing to go into the transport room, no questions asked. You don’t have to be the one to go this time around.” Adam’s concern was palpable.

Frank gently but firmly gripped Adam’s shoulders. “There’s no way in hell I’ll let anyone else do this before me. The probes we sent back checked out, and they returned intact. This is the next logical step, Adam.”

Adam sighed. “Probes are one thing. A human person is another story. And I don’t know if I can keep this up when you’re gone. What if something goes wrong? What if you get stuck there?”

“Then I’ll take the long way around.” Frank smiled. “You got this.”

“I’m not so sure,” Adam admitted.

Frank locked eyes with his lifelong friend. “You understand what they need to make this machine work. The two of us came up with this thing together, remember? And you, my friend, are more the brains than I am. You led the best team of scientists in the world to get to this moment. You did! I’m just the salesman who helped get us here and a grunt with some test piloting experience. And this opportunity to go back is my part in all of this. I’ve been training for it.”

“You’re not selling me right now,” Adam admitted.

“I’m telling you, Adam, that there is absolutely nothing to worry about.” Frank exuded confidence that began dissipating.

“Famous last words, huh?” Adam eyed Frank.

“Now, why do you have to go and say some shit like that?” Frank winked at his friend before progressing through the final checkpoints, where military guards verified his identification. “I’ll see you when I get back, Adam.”

Adam’s determined nod was the last exchange of looks between friends before he swiftly moved to his post in the control room, eager to be a part of the historic moment unfolding. Deep within, Adam understood with certainty that the control room held the crucible of decision-making, crucial for Frank’s survival in the first documented travel through time.

The control room buzzed with activity as techs dashed between stations, conducting last-minute diagnostics and ensuring the seamless operation of all systems. Adam, overseeing every detail, made rounds, addressed queries, and checked on specific tasks. Monitors displayed complex algorithms and calculations, a digital symphony orchestrating the delicate dance of temporal manipulation. Technicians in white lab coats moved purposefully between stations, overseeing the last-minute preparations with an air of anticipation. Satisfied, he took his seat at the primary station, embodying the role of a captain embarking on a new vessel. A deep, relaxing breath signaled his readiness.

“Listen up, people. This project was a long time coming. Let’s make sure we do it right,” Adam declared, donning his headset and focusing on the main screen. Frank stood isolated in the travel chamber, eager for the momentous departure.

“Come on, Adam, let’s get this show on the road already,” Frank’s voice resonated in the headset.

“Take it easy. Stay calm and don’t move. We’ve initiated the sequence, and it needs to capture you as you are,” Adam explained.

An explosion at the entrance shattered the steel doors and the anticipated moment of glory. Armed troops dressed in unfamiliar military uniforms stormed the control room, firing upon techs who attempted to resist. A hostile force invaded the base and breached every inch of the complex.

“What is this? Who are you?” Adam stood, fear coursing through him as he realized he needed to take control of the situation.

“Adam? What’s going on out there, man?” Frank’s voice inquired through the earpiece. On the main screen, Frank paced anxiously in the travel chamber, eager to assist his friend. “I don’t like what I’m hearing on my end, buddy. What the hell is going on?”

Before Adam could respond, a gunshot echoed through the room. He toppled over the console, wounded and frightened. He understood his lifelong friend only had one way out of this nightmare. With a hand dripping in blood from holding his wounded stomach, Adam reached for the activation button and prayed Frank would end up in a safe place and time. The control room, once a realm of dreams, now bore witness to the tragedy that unfolded in the name of scientific progress.

* * * *

Nicole Agna was caught at the crossroads of disbelief and compassion as the strange man materialized before her. Shock paralyzed her initial reaction, making the prospect of involving authorities or seeking medical help seem far-fetched. The tale she would have to tell, of a man appearing out of nowhere, bordered on the surreal, and she hesitated to be labeled as someone who believed in the impossible.

Despite her uncertainties, Nicole, a certified nurse, recognized the superficial wounds adorning the stranger’s body. Logic dictated that, with time and care, he would regain consciousness. Trusting her instincts, she brought him to her home, a farmhouse on the outskirts of a small Midwestern town. Isolated, with no other living soul for miles, her abode became an unexpected sanctuary for a man she couldn’t ignore. Half a day passed in vigilant care as she tended to the stranger’s needs, an odd connection forming between them. The typically serene farmhouse now harbored the enigmatic presence of a man who materialized out of thin air.

As he awoke, Frank stretched in a manner reminiscent of any ordinary morning in his apartment. The realization hit him — the project succeeded, catapulting him roughly twenty-six years into the past.

“It’s okay. I found you on the side of the road and brought you here. You’re lucky I was passing by, too. There isn’t anyone around these parts for miles,” Nicole explained, her voice a blend of concern and curiosity.

Surveying the bandages around his arms and ribs, Frank questioned, “What happened to me?”

“You experienced some minor skin tearing, like rips or cuts. I cleaned the wounds while you slept. They were all superficial. I have no idea how you got the cuts, though. You kind of appeared out of nowhere. Those cuts are strange. Maybe you could shed some light on how you got them.” Her gaze grew intense. She needed this to make sense.

Frank rubbed his head, grappling with the disorientation that accompanied time travel. Adam, you bastard. You saved my life. The thought lingered. “I’m guessing it resulted from the travel,” he admitted, uncertain how much to reveal to this woman who unwittingly became a part of his temporal odyssey.

“I don’t follow. What kind of travel are you talking about?” Nicole’s smile radiated simplicity and beauty as she tucked her shoulder-length light brown hair behind her ears. “You okay? Physically, you are, but I mean…” She pointed to her head.

Frank sat up, bringing himself to Nicole’s eye level as she sat beside him. “I’m okay, I mean it. Did I have anything with me when you found me?”

“Just the clothes on your back.” She stood from the bed, walking to the dresser, where a tray with food and water awaited. “Lucky you’re dealing with a farm girl, mister. I had to shove you in my car all by myself. You’re heavy.”

“Of course, they didn’t have time to give me the device for return.” Frank rubbed his head, ignoring her last comment and feeling a hangover multiplied by ten. He graciously took the tray from Nicole, gulping down water with a realization of his intense thirst. Setting the tray aside, he studied Nicole as she sat beside him again, preparing to gauge her reaction to what he was about to ask. “This will sound like a crazy question, but what year is it?”

“2024. And believe me, I’ve been asked crazier.” She smiled.

“I didn’t catch your name,” Frank noted her beauty for the first time.

Still smiling, she said: “Nicole. Nicole Agna.”

“Strange sounding last name you got there. But I like it. It’s nice.” Frank allowed himself to smile this time.

“I guess I’ll take that as a compliment. What do you go by? Or did you forget your name along with the year?” She smirked.

Frank recalled an old-timer’s name from a friendly drink when contemplating the ramifications of revealing too much. “My name is Morty Higgens.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t go around telling people their name is strange sounding when you have a name like Morty. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Morty. Do you need to call anyone?”

“No. I’ve got nobody and literally no place to go. And I thank you for your help. I’ll be on my way. I’ve troubled you enough, and you’ve already done more than most would.” Frank attempted to rise from the bed.

“Don’t be silly. If you’re as bad up for luck as you say, I’ll feel guilty for not helping you out, especially if something ill comes of it.” She stood from the side of the bed. “Eat up. You’ll need your strength. Tomorrow, we’ll get you some decent clothes, and after that, we’ll take it one step at a time. Then you can do whatever you think you need to.” She nodded in approval to herself. She felt comfortable around Morty. Deep down, she sensed she could trust him.

“Thank you.” Frank smiled, experiencing an ineffable connection. “I appreciate your help, Nicole.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Morty Higgens.” She smiled as she exited the room.

Frank lay down on the bed, allowing the shock of his current situation to sink in with a full-blown panic attack. The attack took hold of his chest the instant Nicole left the bedroom, and he curled deep into the bed, breathing slowly, allowing his body to adjust. Eventually, he forced himself to get used to the idea that this was now his reality. He would have to take the long way around to get home.

* * * *

Having been raised as a city boy, Frank had no idea about the greatness rural life afforded. Nicole’s humble estate was rustic in every sense of the word. It was farmland with nothing to farm, and the house was large enough to always have something that needed fixing. The constant maintenance and work to support them kept Frank (or Morty) rather busy. He arrived out of thin air over a year ago, and he and Nicole would soon bring their baby into the world. Frank had grown so accustomed to the name Morty that he nearly forgot who Frank Stevens had been.

False papers under the identity of Morty Higgens were easy enough to come by. He would sneak off behind Nicole’s back to obtain the proper documentation and get the identity in order. Once he ironed out the details, he made a life for himself and Nicole in their secluded piece of heaven. At times, he would think of Adam and what once was, but during most moments, he kept himself grounded in the present (or his past, depending on perspective). Given his circumstances, he remained sane by rooting himself here and now.

While working out in the field, tending to the massive lawn in constant need of attention, Nicole stood at the doorway of their home. She searched with her eyes, spotting Morty in the field fumbling with a riding lawn mower not worth the trouble. She screamed at the top of her lungs, “My water broke, you bastard! Take me to the hospital!”

Dumbfounded at first but filled with elation, Morty ran to his lover, took her by the hand, and led her to the car. Morty was about to be a father for the first time, which excited the man to no end. Their secluded life was about to welcome a new member, a joyous continuation of the strange and unexpected journey that began with a man appearing out of thin air.

* * * *

“Which one is yours?” An older gentleman in a black suit asked while standing beside Morty in the hospital corridor. His features were hard, and he struck Morty like the last person you would expect to find in a hospital viewing the newborns.

“That one is mine. The one the nurse just put into the crib.” So overjoyed at being a father, Morty failed to recognize the man’s strange demeanor. But in the back of Frank’s trained mind, he sensed something wasn’t right. “What about you?”

“I’m still waiting to see. Congratulations.” The man in black turned to face Frank. “I’m Sal.” He extended his hand.

“Morty.” Frank took it, feeling the calloused roughness of Sal’s tight grip.

“Morty?” Sal laughed. “That’s a hell of a name. Your parents actually named you that?”

Frank shrugged. “What they lacked in creativity, they made up for with love.”

Sal smirked at the comment. “You’re a quick one.” The rough man turned his gaze through the window. His gaze appeared laser-focused on Morty’s son. “Make sure you take care of your boy there. Good fathers are scarce.”

This disturbed Frank. His physical demeanor remained calm even though his instincts signaled fight or flight. “Speaking from experience there, Sal?” Frank lifted his hands in an apologetic gesture. “I don’t mean to pry. Sorry about that. Sometimes, the words come out of my mouth before I realize what I’m saying.”

“No need to worry, Morty. No need to worry at all. My dad was a genuine piece of work. I just hate to see history repeat itself. Know what I mean?” Sal stood tall, cracked his neck, and patted Frank on the shoulder. “Take care.”

“You too.” Frank didn’t know what else to say.

Sal turned and sauntered off, moving with glacial speed away from the neonatal nursery.

Bothered by the strange encounter, Frank became compelled to check in on the mother of his child. He rushed down the hallway of the hospital and entered her recovery room to find her eyes filled with tears of fright.

Without hesitation, he ran to her, holding her close. “Hey, now, what’s the matter? This is a happy time. You shouldn’t be crying like this.”

“Morty, there’s something I need to tell you. Something I couldn’t tell you before.” In a panicked state, Nicole seemed relieved to have Morty enter the room.

“What is it?” Morty asked, confused.

With heavy eyes, Nicole locked eyes with the love of her life, gently running her fingers through his hair. “I’m not who you think I am. My real name isn’t Nicole Agna. It’s a fake one I’ve been living under. I’ve been in hiding for quite some time now.”

“What are you talking about?” Frank’s confusion grew. His old self returned to the surface, usurping Morty’s carefully crafted identity.

Her frantic nature kept pace with every word. “Remember how you said you didn’t like to talk about your past? You left it at that you were adopted and didn’t really know your parents? Well, this was something I kept to myself, but I can’t do it anymore because they found me. I wanted to tell you but didn’t want to scare you away. They’re going to kill me now that they know where I am. We need to get our baby and get out of here as fast as we can!”

Morty failed to understand. “Nicole, let’s calm-”

“-Nicole isn’t my real name!” She interrupted.

Frank stood from the bed, looking Nicole in the eye, trying to wrap his mind around the strange revelation. “What’s your real name?”

“Evalyn Stevens.” She admitted.

The shock of the name slammed into Frank’s chest like a sledgehammer. He stood, unable to move or utter a sound. Frank Stevens gazed at the woman he loved, piecing together the terrifying truth that flashed through his mind like blaring sirens. “No… It can’t be true…”

“Honey, now is not the time to panic. We have to get our baby out of here right now.” She reached out to him from the hospital bed.

This can’t be possible! I was Frank! I am Frank! That child in there is Frank Mackie, and he’ll become Frank Stevens! My birth mother’s name was Evalyn Stevens…. When I found out, I took her last name and got rid of my adopted name, Mackie. Frank Mackie! That’s my child, but that’s me at the same time! It can’t be possible!

Confusion set in as Frank stumbled about the recovery room, drunk by the influx of earth-shattering information. He nearly forgot his lover was lying on the bed across from him while a dizzying nature occupied his senses. He could barely keep track of anything in the room, finding it incredibly difficult to focus. That was his lover; that was his mother.

“Morty!” Nicole did her best to sit up on the bed. “We have to get out of here! I saw him, and he knows I did! He’s waiting for the right time to kill me. Did you hear me? He wants me dead, and if we don’t get out of here right now, that’s exactly what will happen!”

“We have to call the cops.” Frank did his best to maintain his sanity while trying to gather her things in the recovery room.

“No! The cops want me too! I’ve been hiding from all of them. You’re all I’ve got, Morty. You’re all I need. I need you to trust me and go do what I ask. Go get our baby, and then we can all get out of here.” She pleaded with him.

Understanding his timeline and knowing the inevitable outcome of this situation, Frank studied Nicole with heavy eyes. He was adopted. He would never know his mother or father. “What did you do?”

She shook the question away with an exasperated gesture. “That doesn’t matter anymore. What matters now is getting out of here. Go get our baby.” Nicole wiped away more frantic tears. “He has your face. Our boy has his father’s face.”

“I love you,” Frank said, experiencing a mixture of adoration and disgust.

“I love you too. Now go!” Her voice never sounded so desperate.

Frank bolted from the recovery room and stood outside of the nursery where the baby - where he - was crying. At that moment, a flat line rang through the hospital, broadcasting from Nicole’s recovery room. Nursing staff on hand entered to ascertain and quickly respond to the emergency. They would infer it had been because of complications from the birth.

It was supposed to be this way. Frank mentally repeated this sentence in his mind over and over. I’m my own father! He took a step back, barely able to contain the vomit that fought to push its way up from the bowels of his stomach.

While taking slow, steady steps to leave the hospital, Frank glimpsed the man dressed in black from the corner of his eye. He put together who the cause of Nicole’s death was, and with volatile hatred, he monitored Sal exit the floor through a stairwell.

At least I can make something right from all of this. With a newfound determination, Frank embarked on a mission to confront the man in black, seeking justice for Nicole and the child that was, in a perplexing twist, his own past self.

* * * *

The exit to the stairwell led straight to the back of the hospital, where a parked car waited for Sal. Not another soul existed in the area designated for medical waste pickup, and the man in the black suit was confident of this. He planned his exit strategy with care.

Many years ago, Evalyn Stevens ran the books for Sal’s boss. The organization had its hands in every operation conceivable. She kept track of the ins and outs of every dollar. Over time, she began skimming off the top and ran off with a sizable sum. Finding the woman presented its share of challenges, but Sal finally caught up to her.

Evalyn Stevens was now dead. Sal’s boss would be happy.

The sudden impact of a metal bar on the side of Sal’s head didn’t give him time to react or even see who attacked him. All he could hear as the blunt instrument smashed violently into his skull over and over was an angry chant.

“This is for Evalyn! This is for Evalyn!” The rage in Frank’s voice spurred him on to deeper levels of violence.

Eventually, there was nothing. The pain led to complete darkness. Sal was dead.

Frank stood over the lifeless body, a mix of relief and rage coursing through his veins. He focused on the moment and checked the body for the key fab to the car.

I have to disappear, Frank thought.

He wiped the blood from his hands and entered the black sedan. The car started on the first try, and he fled the hospital, leaving himself behind.

* * * *

“I certainly look like an old-timer,” Morty Higgens thought while surveying his empty corner bar. No one had been in for a drink in hours, and Morty studied the clock on the wall, having waited nearly twenty-five years for this coming moment to unfold.

The front door of the corner pub opened, and a young man entered casually, studying Morty’s establishment. The young man appeared on edge as if about to embark upon something dangerous. “This sure is a nice place you got here, old-timer. I don’t think I’ve ever had the pleasure of coming here before now.”

“It pays the bills,” Morty smirked. “I’m willing to bet you’ll be having a cold beer. A pale ale, perhaps? Am I right?”

“How do you know I wouldn’t want a fancy mixed drink?” The young man suggested, testing the waters.

Morty scoffed. “Cause a beer is what I would’ve asked for. Have a seat. Looks like you need to take the edge off.”

“You call them like you see them. I’ll have a seat and your finest pale ale in a bottle.” Frank Stevens smiled, looking at the old man as he approached the bar. There was something familiar about the bartender Frank couldn’t quite shake. “My name is Frank. Frank Stevens. A pleasure to meet you.”

“Believe me, son, when I say the pleasure is mine.” The air in the bar charged with a strange energy, as if the past and present converged in this seemingly ordinary corner pub.

****

He made it, Adam thought, clinging on to the last bit of life. The invading troops had ransacked the facility, stealing vital hard drives and critical components to the transport room.

The wound hurt and felt numb at the same time. The blood covered Adam’s white lab coat, and he surveyed the other techs in the control room. They were all dead save him. He understood he wouldn’t be alive for much longer.

In throws of what he considered to be a hallucination, Adam witnessed an older man walk through the blasted steel door. He looked at the room with recognition as if he hadn’t laid his eyes on it in decades.

“I would have been here sooner, but I had to take the long way around.” Frank smiled at his lifelong friend.

“No…” Adam coughed, blood trickled from his mouth.

Frank walked to Adam’s side and kneeled down. He carried a medkit in his hands. The technology was state-of-the-art and used for soldiers on the field with wounds like the one Adam sustained.

“Frank?” Adam touched the older face. “You got old.”

“Happens to everyone,” Frank admitted. “Your machine works.” He attached the portable medkit to Adam’s abdomen. “And I can’t let you die. I wouldn’t. I’ve been waiting to come here for twenty-six years.”

“How did you get in?” Adam asked, feeling the effects of the medkit at work. The smart machine checked his vitals and administered the proper aid. Nanotech dealt with the bullet, working to remove the foreign object.

“I’m an old bastard now, but the biosecurity still recognizes me as me.” He helped Adam to his feet.

“Anyone else alive?” Adam looked over the dead technicians one more time.

“A few made it to the secure panic room.” Frank led his friend to the destroyed entrance.

“You saved me.” Adam’s emotions got the better of him. Tears formed.

“You saved me first.” Frank nodded, granting his friend a reassuring smile.

“Who attacked us?” Adam asked as they exited the control room to rendezvous with the other survivors.

“We have plenty of time to figure that out,” Frank assured him. “As much time as we need.”