The Rockmore House

26 | Out of Time

The Olympia was demolished in the late eighties and became the site for a National Guard armory in the early nineties. In 1969 the streets around the stadium were packed tightly with homes, but from where I sat it looked like at least half of the houses had been razed. I knew that the publicly funded demolition of abandoned homes in Detroit was a more recent project, so I hoped that meant I was back in 2016.

And if I wasn't, I would have to find a way to calm myself enough to get to 2016. Liz was on her own at that point and so was I.

I stood and saw the illuminated parking lot of the armory behind me, surrounded by a barbed wire topped fence. I could hear the low hum of a nearby expressway and decided to walk to the well-lit main road in the distance.

Liz had told me that when she realized she'd lost Michelle, she got kicked back to 1993 and found herself in this same situation before she went back to 1969 to try to find her. I hoped I'd end up back in Palmer with Liz somehow, but I knew getting stranded in Detroit was a possibility. There was a major hospital a few blocks away that was my best bet for a safe space nearby that would be open at all hours. From there I could call someone to come pick me up.

I just hadn't worked out yet how I'd explain how I got there.

The headlights of a nearby parked car turned on and the car slowly crept toward me. My stomach dropped to the ground. Why had I packed fruit snacks but no pepper spray? I turned away from the approaching car and somehow mobilized my body into something that resembled a jog when I was sure it was still behind me, frozen in fear.

"Vanessa!" a familiar voice called out.

Through the open window of the car, I saw Eric Anderson's beautiful, wonderful face and my heart leapt with joy.

"Eric?!" I ran over to his car and jumped into the passenger seat. "You're here! I didn't want to ask you to be here to get me just in case, because I wasn't sure if you'd know- or remember- anything, and I didn't know if this was where I'd end up," I gushed. "Thank you. You saved me again."

I shut my eyes shut tight and a couple of tears of relief squeezed out as my body melted into the heated leather seat. Eric was there, and he'd preheated the seat for me and 2016 was glorious. I would never long for another time or place again.

I was flooded with so many feelings that I couldn't even identify half of them, but somewhere in that mess was the urge to kiss him, if not right on the mouth, at least on the cheek, right next to his stupid, wonderful dimple.

"Um, Ness?" Eric said in a voice strained with tension.

He guiltily tipped his head toward the backseat. First I saw the glare of a phone screen reflected against glasses before the rest of him came into focus. His brown hair was longer, long enough to escape from the knit hat he was wearing that covered his ears which probably still protruded a bit. In the dim light, I couldn't tell if he was older, or younger, or the same.

Paul leaned forward, said a terse, "Hi, there," and set his phone in the cupholder. It was navigating to an address in Highland Park, a separate city within the borders of Detroit.

Eric frowned as he studied the directions on the screen and I had seconds to decide whether to make a run for it. It was Eric, a warm car and Paul versus being alone in Detroit in the middle of the night, a dead phone battery and no pepper spray.

I decided to stay put.

"What's going on?" I asked in a near-whisper.

"This guy told me where to find you," Eric explained as he drove, "and he says he has to talk to you before we can go home."