Rewrite The Stars (Tom Hanson)

Chapter 14: Busted

July 1988

It had been a eight months since I arrived in the 80's. I've been working on the time machine every chance I get ever since I moved into my apartment. It lives in my closet so no one can see it in case Tom comes over unexpectedly. I gave him my apartment key a while ago, just so there was a spare, and he tends to allow himself in whenever he wants. I've had a few close calls.

All the information I've gathered about the time machine, I have written in a journal I picked up at Target, some retail store in the 80's. All the information is in one place so I don't lose it.

I will figure this thing out if it kills me.

I walked into the chapel, as I have nearly every single day since I got here. Now that I don't live with Fuller anymore, I honestly could just quit. But, I do need the money and I'm good at this job so I plan to stick with it until I can get back home. I can just slip away, and it would be like I never existed... almost. I have been lenient in some ways.

"Officer Bates," I heard from across the room. I shot my head up to see Fuller standing in the doorway of his office, with a serious expression on his face. I glanced over at Tom, who gave me a confused look, but then Fuller said, "in here."

I put my bag down on my chair and walked briskly into his office. I passed by him, and I was nervous. I sat down in the chair, and he sat in his. I found my reflection in a framed photograph on his desk, and my eyes were dark green.

He locked his fingers together on his desk and he let out a deep sigh. I gulped softly as he looked at me, as if he was trying to figure out what he was going to say. He finally spoke up and said, "first, I just want to say that you are doing a great job here at Jump Street. All of my officers have spoken very highly of you, and you have become a very valuable member of our team."

"Thank you," I said. I was so nervous about this meeting because he seemed angry. I had nothing to be anxious about.

"However—"

There it is.

"—a big factor of our philosophy is trust. We have to trust each other, because our lives are on the line when we are out there. Through trust, comes honesty. Okay?"

"All right." Where was he going with this?

He reached into his desk and plopped a packet of papers onto his desk. He pushed it forward, and I grabbed it and read it as he talked to me.

On the front page was a picture of a woman with mousy brown hair, and blue eyes. She had given the camera a little smile, and I noticed a NYPD badge on her chest. My eyes scanned the paper, and I saw her name: Joyce Bates.

I didn't let this realization cross my face, but Fuller must have known because he said in a low voice, "go to the next page."

When I did, I saw crime scene photographs of a totaled car, crushed and flipped upside down. I noticed a dead body in the corner, and Fuller spoke up, "I was informed this morning that Officer Joyce Bates was killed in an automobile accident on November 21, 1987. Five days before you arrived. She never made it to Metropolis."

I felt my heart literally stop pumping in my chest and all the blood drained from my head. Again, I refused to let this information show up on my face, but I looked at Fuller again when he leaned forward and asked in tones of deepest frost that brought a chill down my neck, "so, who are you, really?"

He had a stern look on his face, and I do trust him immensely but I cannot tell him who I really am. I fell silent, but I put the packet down on the desk. Fuller looked at me, as if expecting an answer, but I didn't have one to give him. Finally, he sighed and stood up. He slowly walked around the desk until he got to my chair, and he held his hand out.