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  GRAVESTONE

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  KENT M. BARNARD

  Published by Draft2Digital ~~ 2019

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  GRAVESTONE ~ A SUSPENSE NOVEL ON TIME TRAVEL

  First edition. February 1, 2019.

  Copyright © 2019 Kent Barnard.

  Written by Kent Barnard.

  With love to my wife Karen, whose support and encouragement made this book possible.

  “Therefore, a man can not discover anything about his future... there is a righteous man who perishes in his righteousness, and there is a wicked man who prolongs his life in his evildoing.”

  ... Ecclesiastes 7: 14-15

  “Since no man knows the future, who can tell him what is to come? No man has power over the wind to contain it, so no one has power over the day of his death.”

  ... Ecclesiastes 8:7-8

  Prologue: November 1971

  Dan Cooper knew without a doubt that he and all the passengers were about to die in a horrific plane crash. He sat in row 18, white knuckled, gripped by the tentacles of fear, and desperate to do something – anything!

  In the cockpit of the Northwest Airlines 727 there was a tense atmosphere as the aircraft shook violently in the turbulence of the angry storm they entered with seemingly no means of escape. A lightning strike had shorted out the pilot’s main navigation console, while frozen rain pelted the cockpit windows adding to the anxiety the captain was feeling for the safety of his 88 passengers and crew.

  Nervous and sweating from the ‘right seat’ came an attempted controlled shout, “Whoa! We just got fried! Lost the navigational instruments, and our updating position controls are going crazy! The main gyro’s spinning like a top!” The pilot glanced over at his co-pilot who had become wide-eyed with raw panic. An acidic smell of electrical smoke was curling out from under the instrument panel. The co-pilot tried to filter his anxiety, but the trembling in his voice betrayed him, “Captain, I’ll try to notify Seattle of our situation and our last known position, if the radio still works.”

  “Roger that, and double check the tracking beacon to verify it’s working,” the Captain said as calmly as possible.

  Another hard boom of thunder cracked, causing the aircraft to roll sharply to the right. A sudden wind shear suddenly forced the plane to drop 500 feet like a horrifying roller coaster ride. The aircraft pitched left this time and was shaking violently as the cockpit crew fought for control.

  Back in the window seat 18C, Dan Cooper sat sweating with his eyes tightly shut. He was terrified. It seemed that every nut and bolt was about to burst loose from the pounding outside. He knew that in less than ten minutes, the plane he was on, along with every living soul on board, was going to hit the side of Woodland Mountain killing everyone. He knew that unless he did something he was going to die.

  It was pitch black outside, visibility zero, and Cooper could only see the flashes of the strobe lights on the wing through the horizontal rain blasting onto his window. Occasional staccato lightning flashes blinded him adding to his sense of lost desperation. He was the only passenger in row 18, on both sides of the aisle. His wife was sitting in seat 8A, but she had no idea he was onboard. He was in disguise. It was important that she never know he was on this flight, the Northwest Airlines flight from Portland to Seattle on Thanksgiving eve, the flight that she died on eight years ago.

  1979 Ellensburg, Washington

  Cooper sat in an underground newspaper room, a vault, looking at the Seattle Times headlines for Thanksgiving, November 25, 1971. It jarred him to the bone; AIRLINER HITS MOUNTAIN IN STORM. Countless times over the last eight years he had sat staring at that article in lost grief. His wife died in that crash and he never recovered from losing her. He lived in continual depression and grief, remembering the desperate and helpless feeling standing at the arrival gate at the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport waiting for the flight that never arrived. Waiting for his wife to join him for Thanksgiving dinner after being away in Oregon visiting her parents. His mind never accepted the tragedy, his life was never the same. Helpless, desperate, and empty he searched for answers and as all the emotions flooded back for the thousandth time, he just sat there staring at those headlines.

  “Dan, we’re ready,” Dr. Bruce Matthews announced breaking the trance.

  Dr. Matthews and Dan Cooper were ‘close’ friends for years, but they both were using each other and both men knew it. They belonged to the ‘Chamber’, an elite private organization of five retired successful professional men.

  Without looking up, in almost a whisper, he said “Hello Bruce. Finally.” Then with a renewed resolve, “Let’s do this!” He stood, leaving the newspaper on the table next to his chair. Dr. Matthews glanced at the headline and shook his head wondering how his friend held it together all these years.

  The two men exited the vault, somberly yet excited, stepping into the sunlight and walking down the residential streets of Ellensburg, Washington. It was six blocks, but the weather was pleasant with just a high thin cloud cover, breezy and in the upper 60s. It was autumn and the leaves were displaying their brightest oranges and reds, falling and covering the grounds of the college campus that they had now just entered. Their destination was the physics building. To be precise, the basement of the physics building where the Chamber conducted their experiments in strictest privacy.

  Preparations were underway when another Chamber member arrived. He opened the door as silently as a thief and gave the two men an icy stare. No emotion, cold dead grey eyes, all business, not saying a word. Fletcher Blake, the oldest member of the Chamber, stepped into the lab and secured the premises. Things were indeed ready.

  Dr. Matthews continued, “Dan, rest assured, things will be fine. I have studied every detail of this experiment for nearly two years and am sure it will work. It’s guaranteed! As you know, we’ll have to stimulate your heart with a small shock as the Radium enters your blood system. It won’t be too uncomfortable. Only a small pinch for a split second. Nothing to it. As we discussed many times, Fletcher here will fire this gun containing a small Radium bullet, a dart, directly into your chest as I deliver the shock. You most likely will pass out, but when you recover... well... when you recover you will be in another time period. You can save your wife and all those unfortunate people. There is only the slightest risk, but isn’t it worth it?”

  He paused, noticing the beads of sweat forming on Cooper’s forehead. “It’s all calculated Dan,” reassuring him again. “We can send you back to 1971, eight years into the past, and you can save your wife and have a joyous reunion with her. You must understand however, this is not a precise procedure and we can only estimate how far you will travel back in time, or how long you will stay in the past. A reminder, as we had discussed earlier, you could experience some “time-jumping”, a phenomenon that could send you skipping into several different time periods. I have however calculated that you should travel between 10 to 15 years into the future before you return to us here in 1979. You will have saved your wife in 1971, and then accomplish our mission to travel into the future and read our gravestones! You can then give us the information about our deaths, allowing all the Chamber members to side-step the grim reaper. Well, at least delay death’s call. Once we know when and how we die we can simply avoid those circumstances.”

  Dan Cooper looked into the eyes of Dr. Matthews, and saw either madness or genius, he didn’t know which, and he didn’t know if there was really even a difference. He really didn’t care. Turning to look into Fletcher’s eyes he saw no emotion at all just that cold stare of evil. Like looking into a shark’s eyes before you are eaten! Cooper would be glad to be out of the C
hamber forever when this experiment was complete. The usual fee agreed upon for a ‘time traveler’ was $50,000 deposited the day before into the bank account of your choice, ready for you upon your return. The deposit was made yesterday, and he was ready. He was only 51, the youngest Chamber member. He was chosen because of his age, good physical health, and his motivation to do anything possible to save his wife, even if he died trying. Which was a very strong possibility

  “Let’s go,” Cooper again said with determination.

  It took about 30 more minutes to prepare the final details for the procedure. Dan Cooper was strapped loosely into a recliner and blindfolded. He awaited his executioner. Dr. Matthews handed Fletcher the handgun loaded with one Radium dart. Fletcher would stand just three feet in front of Cooper and fire the Radium into his heart just seconds after Matthews would administer to Cooper’s heart a severe shock. Matthews gave the experiment a 60% chance of success, but he really had no idea. He had convinced Cooper of higher odds. He hoped that Fletcher didn’t have to use the gun’s second bullet, a live .38 round to put Cooper out of his misery.

  It was time. They told Cooper to start counting backwards from ten. As he began the countdown, 10 – 9 – 8, the shock was given. Cooper was sweating and very anxious about the severe shock to his heart, which he feared more than the Radium dart. Then suddenly, Cooper gasped in pain and disbelief, his limbs twitching violently, his mouth opened wide in an attempt to scream. A scream that was never heard in 1979. A second later Fletcher fired the gun on target into the burn mark over Cooper’s heart. He vanished instantly leaving Dr. Matthews wide-eyed! Both men were standing there astonished wondering if it actually could have worked. Fletcher was left with only an empty chair as his target for the live bullet had disappeared.

  1970 Ellensburg, WA - 1971 Portland, OR

  He woke disoriented at the General Hospital in Ellensburg suffering from dehydration, burns, and exposure. Cooper had no idea how he got there. A maintenance worker had found him lying next to the boiler in the physical sciences building during Christmas break, on December 28, 1970, and called campus security. It was thought that he was a drifter, a homeless John Doe looking for a warm place to get in out of the sub-zero, snowy winter. Dan Cooper welcomed the medical attention and hot food, but in the evening, he found his clothes, got dressed, and walked out of the hospital. He had never offered to change the authority’s belief he was just a homeless lost man.

  Over the next several months, he drifted to the Oregon Coast, hitchhiking and doing odd jobs. He would have to wait almost an entire year until it would be November 1971 before he would need to get to Portland and attempt to save his wife. In some freakish unexplained phenomena of physics, he did not seem to age – they may have discovered a fountain of youth, or so it appeared. He felt stronger, and more alive than ever. His mind began to wander, would he, could he, live forever traveling in time? He did marvel at Dr. Matthews’ accuracy in sending him about one year before that flight. He was however, nervous, anxious, and getting impatient to see his wife.

  Dan had gotten a temporary part-time job in Seaside, Oregon, working at one of the arcades to earn enough money to live on and then travel to Portland when the time was right.

  Then, after what seemed an eternity, on Wednesday, November 24, he grabbed a bus and went to the Portland International Airport dressed in business attire, white shirt, dark tie, a long overcoat, hat, and carrying a briefcase. He purchased a one-way plane ticket for $20 and waited for the flight to be called. His eyes were teary behind his dark glasses as he watched his wife of 40 sitting across the waiting room reading a magazine. He hadn’t seen her for eight years and now there she was, alive and as beautiful as ever. He loved her long auburn, shoulder length hair, her perfect complexion, and the way she carried herself with such grace, confidence, and flowing beauty. He could not believe she was here and he fought back the strong urge to rush over and take her in his arms. He wondered what she would do, and what she was thinking about. Most likely it was of him and the Thanksgiving feast they were going to have with their closest friends in Snohomish, 30 miles north of Seattle, where they lived on five secluded acres. He watched her until it hurt. He was determined to save her life and thought many times, as the storm became more severe, that he should simply walk over to her, explain the facts that the plane was going to crash, and that he came back from the future to save her. Surely she would believe him and see that it was really him, now just a little older. That alone would be evidence enough. But he couldn’t risk it. What if he was arrested, thought crazy or something, detained somehow and was forced to watch her board that doomed aircraft. No, he would get on that plane with her and somehow advise the crew of the danger, thus avoiding the crash. Simple.

  The announcement broke his thoughts, “We are now ready for general boarding of Northwest Flight 305.”

  Chapter 1:

  July 1981, Ellensburg, Washington

  It was the summer of 1981 in the rural college town of Ellensburg, and Michael James was hot. Central Washington State College had become a ghost town on campus three weeks ago when the student body and faculty abandoned the high dry plains of Eastern Washington for summer activities west of the Cascade Mountains in Seattle and Portland.

  E-burg, as the locals referred to the rodeo capital, was going to reach a blazing 97 degrees today. It was already sticky and humid when the alarm went off at 6:15. Michael got up quickly, showered, and drank some apple juice before getting dressed in his running gear. A new pair of Nike Road-Runner shoes needed to be broken-in and today was to be the day.

  Michael had been married only six months. He almost decided not to run his ten-mile route this morning as he watched his beautiful young wife Claire sleeping. Streaks of sun were shining across her long, straight, dark brown hair. She was beautiful and Michael dreaded being away from her. He kissed her softly and received a soft moan in reply.

  He met Claire two years ago when he was over in Edmonds, a sleepy little ferry town on Puget Sound just north of Seattle. Claire was a student at Edmonds Community College and was sitting in her Northwest Indian art class when she looked up from her drawing table and saw this lean, lanky guy bouncing up and down to keep his leg muscles warm just outside her classroom door. She thought it strange, cute, and interesting, but had no idea what he was doing. Claire’s best friend at that time, Natalie, told her to stop staring at that guy. She told Claire his name was Mike James and he was a state champion runner. Claire assumed that this guy was bouncing all over the place, kind of running in place, waiting for someone in her class.

  When the bell rang most everyone exited the art room except Claire who was deeply into her project and was planning to work on it through another period. To her surprise and inward delight, this guy strolled across the room and stopped directly in front of her. She looked up into his brown eyes and was smitten. Her stomach had a funny feeling and she almost fainted when this stranger took her hand and told her, “I’m going to marry you someday.”

  Claire just stared into his eyes speechless. She didn’t know what to say, how to react. She had never met this guy before. All she could manage to say was, “Huh?” Oh, that was brilliant, she thought, gaining her composure.

  “Well sir, first you have to slay the dragon, rescue me from an ogre, and convince my father that you are worthy of my hand.” She smiled, still letting him hold her hand. She felt inwardly embarrassed as her body tingled.

  “As you wish my Lady,” he smiled. “Hi! I’m Mike James and you are Claire Tyler.”

  “Ha, yes I know,” she said amused. “I know your name, but how do you know mine?” Flustered once more, she thought she should not have told this guy she knew who he was.

  “Yesterday in training, oh I’m a runner,” he said stumbling, “I saw you in the parking lot leaving campus. I HAD to meet you, so here I am. You’re the most beautiful girl I have ever seen Claire Tyler. Whoa, that sounds kind of, umm...”

  She stepped in to help him out i
n the awkward moment, “I think that sounds kinda sweet Mr. James, but do you think you should ask me out on a date before we ‘set the date’,” she said, smiling coyly.

  He loved reliving those moments. Still day dreaming as he was running, an irrigation sprinkler in one of the many Ellensburg hay fields shot a spray of cold water, hitting Michael in the back and bringing him back to the present. Michael was smiling as he ran his morning workout remembering that first time he had met his new wife.

  It was important to him to stay in shape and keep his body in perfect condition since his college funding depended on his athletic ability. Running was a talent that had come natural to him and it offered a pleasurable escape from the long, tedious hours and hours of studying.

  Michael’s event was the mile run which he considered a sprint. After all, he was running the mile in 4:03 and keeping a pace just near 4:20 minutes per mile for even longer events. His performance netted him a full four-year college scholarship to Central.

  He was driven to become one of the few elite college runners like his idol Jim Ryan from Kansas University, a world class athlete and world record holder. He wanted to enter the record books too, maybe even qualify for the Olympic trials in Eugene, Oregon, next spring. His college team, the Wildcats, would benefit from his efforts and he owed them that. He felt obligated and carried the heavy weight of that stress as it tugged at him to pay back all those who believed in his athletic abilities.

  Training seven days a week, twice a day, either running, biking or swimming left time for nothing else beyond his studies and the occasional low budget dinner at Pizza Hut or Arctic Circle, a break from campus food. Of course, Claire was becoming a great cook too, but he realized she also needed breaks. Twice a week they carved out time from their busy conflicting schedules to spend time together.