Timecast

Timecast

         “How long have you been able to timecast?” asked Jenna
         Martin chuckled at his sixteen-year-old niece’s terminology. Of course, he had heard this expression used with increasing frequency over the past several months, but he found humor in its trediness. How long would it be before the word would be included into the Oxford Dictionary?
         “Always, I guess, to some degree.” Martin replied. He walked ahead of Jenna along a footpath that followed the south bank of the Salmon River. The heat of the day had evoked a muggy odor from this sluggish section of water and its muddy banks. The sun was getting lower in the sky, but Martin figured it’d be almost an hour before it was dark—plenty of time.
         Jenna had nodded her head as if he had satisfied her question, but Martin could tell that her curiosity lingered. Jenna wore her dark brown hair pulled back into a short ponytail. She was wearing a turquoise knit pullover with no sleeves and some loose-fitting sweatshorts. The arms of a dark blue jacket were tied around her waist causing its hood to hang near the back of her knees.
         “Why do you ask?” Martin prodded.
         “I don’t know. I’ve heard a lot about it, but you’re about the only one I know who can do it?” Jenna stopped to swat a mosquito on the back of her leg.
         Martin reached behind him into his backpack and pulled out a can of repellant. “I told you to use some of this,” he said as he handed it to her.
         “I know but it stinks.” Jenna took the can and sprayed her legs, arms and neck. She waved the air around her while holding her breath, and then exhaled exaggeratedly as she stepped forward. “I hate the outdoors,” She said
         Martin smiled as he zipped up his pack. He could hear the water rushing louder ahead as they continued their hike eastward. The trail diverted away from the river to avoid some thick foliage. “You used to love it. Especially here. You used to tell me that you were going to get married by the river, on the lodge house lawn.”
         “Yeah, well, I was little then. I’ve changed.”
         Martin’s grin faded as the shiver of guilt drifted over him. After all this time, he still felt responsible for what had happened—for her fear. The lodge had never been the same since that evening ten years ago. You’d think I would be able to get past these feelings by now, he thought.
         When Martin was growing up, he knew this stretch of the river like the back of his hand. He had hiked, explored, climbed, and rode horses all over this mountainside. Someone from his great uncle’s family owned the Salmon River Lodge, which covered the area for several miles on this side of the river. Every year his extended family would gather here for the Gifford Family Reunion. His last name was Foster, but his grandmother came from the Gifford name. the reunion was the highlight of the year and an event not to be missed, even though most of the people were strangers to him. As the older generations had passed on, the reunions seemed to follow suit. Martin hadn’t been back here for many years.
         It had been a while since he had seen Jenna, too. Lydia, his older sister, now a Hansen by marriage, and Jenna, had moved back East five years ago due to his brother-in-law’s employment. Of course, they all stayed in touch by phone, email, Birthday cards and such. This year, however, they had all made plans meet at the lodge. Although it was great to be here together again as family, an unspoken purpose for the location was this particular hike to the clearing with Jenna. Jenna was aware of this, so they both felt somewhat uncomfortable as they strode through the forest.
         “So?” Jenna prompted
         “Huh…oh yes, timecasting, as you call it,” Martin replied gratefully. “Let’s see. As I said, in a way I’ve always been able to do it. I used to think that I just had a very good memory and then I realized that what I experienced went beyond most others’ abilities.”
         “When was that?” Jenna interrupted
         “Around high school. When I was taking tests, I could recall the answers because it was like I could watch my teachers give the lectures over again. Like déjà vu in reverse. It was more than that, though. I eventually realized that I could see things from the past as they had actually occurred. From then on, it’s just been practice.”
         Martin always wondered if he explained these things well. He sensed people viewed him differently, especially when he talked about his abilities, in some ways even his wife. He felt as ordinary as anyone, but his impression was that nobody else considered him normal. Martin perceived that Jenna was a little unsure about him now. He stopped to help his neice over a fallen pine tree. They walked a few yards and then he left the trail, heading north.
         “I thought we needed to get to the clearing by sunset,” Jenna complained.
         “We will,” Martin assured her. “I just want to show you something.”
         The duo fought through some brush and climbed over a hill encumbered with outcroppings of rock before they emerged onto a high cliff overlooking the river. Below they could see a series of furious rapids. Several massive boulders leapt from the water, causing torrents around their bases, while others hid just beneath the surface allowing the water to broil over them and form deep holes in the river bed. Ragged slabs of stone also jutted out from the sides of cliffs on either side.
         “Dragon’s Mouth,” Jenna said softly. “So this is what it looks like.” She stepped back a bit.
         Martin continued to stare over the ledge. “Pretty incredible, isn’t it?”
         “Yeah,” Jenna replied. Her eyes followed a broken tree limb as it came rushing down through the rapids and hammering over the rock barriers. “Are you telling me that I floated through that and lived?” she asked incredulously.
         “No,” Martin was quick to answer. “By some miracle, Grandpa Jack was able to get you out before you made it this far down the river. If he hadn’t been there…”
         “What was he doing there?”
         “He was hiking out to join us at the clearing when he heard you screaming. He climbed out onto a log and caught you as you came floating down.”
         “I knew Grandpa rescued me,” Jenna said, “but—” She paused. “Has anybody ever died here?”
         “A few. Most boaters usually pull out at the clearing where we are headed. Some go though here on smaller boats and kayaks, but only if they’re highly experienced.”
         Both of them starred down into Dragon’s Mouth, mesmerized by the furious activity of crashing water and lulled by the thunderous resonance echoing off the canyon walls.
         Martin broke the silence. “We should get moving. We still have a ways to go.”
         They found their way back to the path, which started down a steep decline. When the ground began to level out, Martin asked, “So you don’t remember anything about nearly drowning in the river?”
         “Nope,” Jenna replied. “I’ve just always heard about it from family.”
         Martin didn’t really want to bring up the incident. Lydia had mentioned that it had taken a lot to convince Jenna to come. He could also feel the guilt beginning to burn in his stomach. However, this was the whole purpose of their evening jaunt along the river. He lifted his head and ventured further, “But you’re still afraid of the water?”
         “I’m not afraid,” Jenna objected. “I’m terrified! I almost flunked gym class last year because I refused to get in the swimming pool. I just freeze up and start to fell sick.”
         Martin lowered his head and slowed his pace. “Well, hopefully we can fix that tonight.”
“I still don’t understand how this is going to do anything,” Jenna snapped. Martin could sense her irritation.
         “Your mom and I feel that your fear stems from what happened here ten years ago, and if—“
         “Duh!” Jenna exclaimed mockingly. “Of course my little swim down the river has scarred me for life, but I don’t see how reliving the experience will do any good. I told Mom to just leave it alone. It’s not like I’m a nut case or anything. I’m sorry, but I just think this is stupid. It will probably make me worse. What would we do then?”
         And it would be my fault again, Martin thought to himself. He swallowed and curbed his desire to lash back at her outburst. He was amazed at how quickly the temperament of a teenager could turn. He knew Jenna was nervous. Besides, maybe he was just being selfish. Perhaps he wanted to help Jenna overcome her fear of water to relieve himself from his remorse rather than looking out for her best interest. Regardless, he knew that arguing with his niece was not the answer.
         “Look, Jenna.” He stopped and turned to face her. “I’m not going to force you to do anything. This is all up to you. We can turn around and go back to the lodge right now. I just think that your mind has buried the memory of your experience, and if you could actually see what happened—face your fear, as they say—you’d be able to understand it and make sense of it. It’s not a life or death thing. I don’t know if it will work. I’m not a psychiatrist. I just feel that we have a unique opportunity to do something that could help. You tell me what you want to do.”
         Jenna didn’t answer him. She was looking off toward the river even though it was blocked by trees. Martin thought it best to wait, so he endured the silence by looking to check the sun. It was looming closer to the tree tops. Fifteen minutes until sunset he estimated.
         “Uncle Martin, I don’t want to go back. But I’m kind of weirded out by all of this. I’ve seen stuff on T.V. about timecasting, but it still seems kind of…out there.”
         Martin was relieved. “Then maybe I can tell you more about it.”
         “I’d like that,” Jenna conceded.
         “Okay.”
         “Okay.”
         They held each other in an uneasy stare. Then Martin suggested, “Shall we talk as we walk.”
         “Sounds good,” Jenna agreed. “You know, I have to tell you, you were very Dr. Phil just now with the ‘Face your fear’ and all that.”
         “Thanks, I think.” Martin said. She was joking; that was good. They continued toward the clearing, hiking slightly uphill again. “So what do you want to know about timecasting?”
         “First of all, why do you always make fun of that word? Isn’t that what it’s called?”
         “Actually, I like your term better than ‘Temporal Imaging Phenomenon’, or TIP, which is what the scientists call it.” Martin admitted. “As time goes on, it seems more and more people are able to observe the past like I can, and I’m sure I wasn’t the first. As the experience has become more widespread, the legitimate scientific community has begun to study it and postulate theories ranging from next-step evolution to alien interference. I guess to hear it popularized by a term like ‘timecasting’ seems a little amusing to me.”
         “What would you call it, then?”
         Martin hesitated as to whether he should be truthful in his answer. He didn’t want to make this any more mysterious for Jenna, however her question deserved an honest answer. “Visions.” he replied
         That made Jenna pause. “You mean like séance, speak-to-the-dead sort of visions?” Her eyes were searching Martin’s face, almost pleading for him to contradict this idea.
         “No,” explained Martin, “more like visions in the Bible”
         “Oh.” Jenna contemplated that in silence. Most people reacted this way when he brought up his spiritual views on the matter. He could only imagine what she was thinking. As if on cue, she said, “I don’t see why you have to bring religion into it.”
         “Why not?” Martin replied a bit testily. He recognized his own defensiveness and tried to temper his response. “The Bible speaks about spiritual manifestations? Why couldn’t this ability come from God? Sounds better than aliens. Besides, science has always taken credit for divine inspiration. Think of all of our technological advances like telephones, television, computers, the Internet…and I can see that your eyes are glazing over—“ He let out a sigh. “Let’s just refer to it as timecasting.”
         “That’s good for me.” Jenna said. After another lull, she began again. “So can you see into the future, too?”
         “No, it only seems to work in one direction.”
         “Have you tried?”
         Martin smiled at her directness. “I’ve attempted it, but it really doesn’t work that way. There’s nothing to focus on, nothing to connect with.”
         “Can you see somebody else’s past or just your own?”
         “I can only see another person’s past if I was with them at the time.” Martin started to chuckle. “I tried to go back and see your Aunt Kate on a date with an old boyfriend. It didn’t work.”
         Jenna laughed. “That’s too funny. Did you ever tell her?”
         “Do you really think I’m that stupid?”
         Jenna laughed harder. After a moment, she sobered and resumed her interrogation. “Can you interact with the past?”
         “No,” Martin said. “I’m just an observer.” Jenna’s silence told him she didn’t quite understand. “Have you ever read or seen A Christmas Carol?”
         Jenna nodded her head affirmatively.
         “It’s just like that. Scrooge went with the Spirit of Christmas Past to view his past life, but he could only watch. I’ve often wondered if Dickens could timecast. Probably not.”
         “So that’s how it works.” Jenna had missed his joke, but Martin was pleased that he was able to come up with something she could relate to.
         “Okay then,” she continued, “Since I am coming with you tonight, you can obviously share this experience with others. How does that work?”
         “You have perfect timing for that question,” Martin replied. “We’re here.”
         They looked out where the path had emerged from the trees into a grand meadow that stretched out for several yards. The river circumscribed it in three directions as it formed a wide-arching horseshoe bend around the field. The forest they had just walked through produced a western border to this pleasant, isolated nook filled with wild flowers and grasses.
         Shafts of waning sunlight came shining on their backs through the trees. It projected out onto the clearing and made the river dance in sparkles. The water was tranquil and inviting. Who could have guessed this same water would soon be violently hurling its way through Dragon’s Mouth?
         “This is a great fishing spot,” declared Martin, “Especially this time of night. That’s what we were doing the night of the accident. Do remember Charley?”
         Jenna furrowed her eyebrows and shook her head.
         “Clarley’s one of my cousins. He was older than me, and I looked up to him because he was a great fisherman. We planned to come here and catch enough fish to feed everybody breakfast the next morning.”
         “And I begged to go with you. You gave in when I started to cry and you talked mom into letting me come along.” Jenna rattled off in a sing-song voice.
         “I see you’ve heard this story before,” chuckled Martin.
         “Yeah, but Mom never mentioned anything about any Charley.”
         “That’s probably not the first thing you will learn about.” Martin realized as he spoke that he had brought the discussion back to the task at hand. They would have reached this point eventually, but he had been enjoining the relaxed conversation with his niece.
         They looked around awkwardly for a few moments until Jenna asked the obvious question. “So what do we do now?”
         Martin looked around and took in their surroundings. A slight breeze wafted through the grass. Sunlight was still streaming from the trees indicating the sun hadn’t yet sunk below the horizon, but the high, thin clouds began to take on a pinkish glow.
         “Yeah, this is about right,” he muttered, almost to himself. Then he turned to Jenna. “You know, technically, we didn’t have to hike out here to do this.”
         Jenna rolled her eyes. “Now you tell me.”
Martin continued, “But remember what I was talking about before. These visions—timecasting is based on focus and connections to our past. We could have done this from somewhere else, but it would have been a lot harder, especially since you’ve never done this before. By physically being here in this clearing at this time of year just before sunset, we have set the stage to witness your perilous encounter with the river. When we start to go back you won’t have to imagine the scene because it will be all around you.”
         “You’re really into this, aren’t you?” Jenna asked, smiling.
         “Yes, I am,” Martin replied. “Now let’s get started.” He led Jenna closer to the river on the north side of the field. “This should do it. Now, let me tell you how this will work. I want you to stand here by my side and hold onto my arm. It’s important that you stay in contact with me so that we don’t lose our connection. We don’t have to walk. I can move us around. Just pretend you are watching a movie. Got it?”
         “I think so.”
         “Now this may seem strange, but when I am going back in time, I rub my thumb and forefinger together. Not everybody does it that way, but it’s just what I do.”
         “It’s a focus thing?” Jenna offered.
         “That’s right.” Martin said with a smirk. “It’s a focus thing. Now it may take a minute or two before anything happens. Please remain quiet. I need to concentrate. Now do you have any questions?”
         "Which direction?”
         “What?”
         “Which direction do you rub your thumb against your forefinger?”
         Martin had to think. “Um, counter-clockwise, why?”
         “I thought so. I’m getting the hang of this.”
         Martin flashed her a grin. “Are you ready?”
         “I’m a little scared.”
         “Don’t worry. Everything will be just fine.”
         They looked out across the river. The clouds were now aglow in a rich pink radiance, almost as if they produced the skylight themselves. The North Star was faintly visible amid the indigo sky.
         Then, Jenna noticed that the sky seemed to brighten. At the same time, she perceived that the river sounded irregular. As she looked down at the water, she realized that it was flowing upstream.
         Just as she caught on to what was transpiring, everything suddenly sped up in reverse and then she could only see what reminded her of video static, except with blurred colors. While this continued, she began trying to discern patterns in the sensational array before her. Abruptly, the river and landscape came back into view, but they were lit only by a half moon low in the horizon.
         Jenna watched as the moon fall away and the sky began to lighten once more, the horizon transforming from a deep purple into a pale yellow. She looked to the west and observed the trees light up and shoot forth beams of light. When Jenna noticed that drastic changes in her surroundings had ceased, she heard a splash of water.
         She turned to face the river again and beheld a little girl bent over a pile of rocks. The girl carefully selected one of the rocks, lifted it up behind her back, and then threw it as hard as she could into the river.
         “Jenna!” called an exasperated voice to her right. Jenna jumped and turned toward the voice. She found a young man, not much older than herself, holding a fishing pole. “You’re going to scare all of the fish away,” he complained.
         “Handsome guy, wasn’t I?” The voice startled her.
         Jenna had forgotten that Martin was at her side. All at once, she recalled where she was, or when she was. “How old were you?” she whispered.
         “About twenty.” Martin answered. He was pleasantly surprised at how quickly Jenna had adapted. For many, the trip to the past could be quite disorienting. “They can’t hear us if we talk. However, let’s just keep it quiet so that we don’t get distracted.”
         The pair of spectators watched the events unfold in front of them. Young Martin had returned to casting his fly rod from the bank further upstream. He glanced back in the girl’s direction regularly. Charley was even further up the river. He has wearing hip waders and was out in the water up to his thighs. The little girl, young Jenna, looked around searching for something else to do. Then she headed along the riverbank toward the forest.
         Martin observed Jenna as she took in the scene. Her eyes were riveted to her younger self. She continuously tapped her teeth with a fingernail. She was definitely nervous. Martin was feeling quite anxious himself. He had lived through this before and didn’t long to witness it again. Ten years ago, he should have insisted that little Jenna had stayed with him or taught her how to cast—something other than let her explore the riverbank alone. Why hadn’t he watched her more carefully?
         “I’ve got one,” he heard the young Martin holler. The younger man’s rod was curved downward against the darkening pink sky and bouncing with the pull of the fish. Young Martin was reeling earnestly, occasionally letting the fish run with some line. “Whew! He a big one; I can feel it!”
         The older Martin then turned to find his seven year-old niece. She had ventured near the trees where some larger rocks were grouped out into the river. It was hard to see her clearly in the fading light. The little girl stepped out onto one of the rocks. He could feel Jenna squeeze his hand tightly. He decided to move them closer to the girl.
         Martin and Jenna began to float across the grass toward the trees and stopped near the river bank. They watched as young Jenna hopped from rock to rock until she had reached the farthest one. She then looked upstream toward the commotion her uncle was making.
         “A fish, a fish.” she muttered happily to herself. The young girl spun around to hop back to the shore, but she leaned backwards as she lost her balance. She tried to bend forward, but, with a jolt and a scream, she fell back into the river with a loud splash.
         “Jenna?” They heard the distant cry. “Jenna, where are you?” There was a pause and then a more desperate yell. “Jenna!” Martin could feel the terror rush back to him as he relived this moment.
         Young Jenna was flailing in the water. She knew how to swim, but even as she tried, an undercurrent began pulling her down river.
Then Martin recognized that something wasn’t quite right. He looked upstream to see his former self running down the river bank screaming for little Jenna just as he remembered. Then, in an instant of newfound horror, he realized that Jenna was no longer holding his hand. His hair stood on end and his blood froze. Where had she gone? He spun around in every direction. She was nowhere to be found. Jenna had vanished.
         Young Jenna had already drifted an amazing distance down the river and would soon be out of sight. She continued to scream for help. Should he follow her? Or should he look for the teenage Jenna on the shore. Where could she be? Did she return to their normal time? He searched the landscape frantically again. Nothing.
         “Jenna, where are you?” he called.
         “Uncle Martin, Help!” Martin swirled around toward the shriek and found himself facing down river. Which Jenna had he heard? He could have sworn it was the elder Jenna. Left with very little options, Martin decided to follow the sound. Everything was happening so fast!
         He floated out above the river and sped through the air following the current. The river was extremely dark. At last, he caught up to the struggling child. No sign of her teenage counterpart. Young Jenna now gave up trying to swim and simply flowed down the river, screaming. She was gathering speed.
         She must be so scared, Martin thought to himself, like she doesn’t have a hope in the world. Then he remembered something. Dad!
         “Don’t worry, Jenna,” he called out loud, “Grandpa will be there to save you.” Though she wouldn’t hear him, he felt the need to console her. Martin surveyed the area for any protruding logs. He saw nothing at fist, but as they came around a bend into a straight stretch he could make out a very large fallen tree in the distance that stuck out halfway across the river. As he peered closer, Martin noticed a bouncing stream of light near the base of the trunk on the south bank. It could only be a flashlight.
         They progressed down the river toward the flashlight. As they got nearer, Martin began to gauge little Jenna’s trajectory and speed, comparing it with the pace of his father’s progress along the log. Something was wrong. Martin’s stomach began to turn. He’ll never make it, he thought. This couldn’t be right. His dad saved Jenna from drowning today. He knew that it had happened. He had been there.
         However, as the log loomed unavoidably in Jenna’s path, it was evident that Grandpa Jack would never get to her in time. Jenna struck the timber with incredible force.
         “No!” Martin shrieked as tears sprang to his eyes. This can’t be happening. he repeated continuously in his mind as he hovered over the fallen tree.
         Jenna had rolled under the log, but finally she popped up to the surface and continued to float down the river. She did not make a sound. Martin couldn’t move. His heart was throbbing and he felt like he going to vomit. What was going on? How could this happen?
         In a far corner of his conscience, he could faintly hear his father cry out for the girl, but Martin knew all hope was gone. Nobody could reach her. Even if her collision with the log hadn’t killed her, surely Dragon’s Mouth would. Both men began to sob. What have I done? lamented Martin. What have I done?

To be continued...