France Runs Out Of Time
France’s feet crunched in the gravel as he poked his head inside the open boxcar door. It was empty. A whistle pierced the sky as a cloud of steam rose from the engine’s smokestack. It was decision time. He could hop in and escape, putting his past—the future—behind him. Or he could try to get back to his original time and clear his name. France jumped inside and pulled the door closed.
France Terrington was not of this time. He was a media influencer consultant in 2103. Media was the means to power and wealth, and those who controlled the media controlled the wealth and power. Much like the political systems of the previous centuries and kingdoms before that. Media influencers were essentially celebrities, and like celebrities, they were worshipped by the masses. But to retain their popularity, influencers needed consultants.
France was the best when it came to reading the pulse of the media world, and he commanded a salary befitting his skill. He also earned intense envy and hatred from other consultants.
As France sat against the boxcar wall, he thought about how everything had fallen apart. The morning feed ignited with the news that his star client, Harford Swan, was planning to double access fees to his media. It was a lie, but the damage was done. Swan’s popularity plummeted, and hundreds of thousands unsubscribed.
The perpetrator of the fake news manipulated things to make it appear that France had convinced Swan to raise fees. France immediately called Harford and assured him he had nothing to do with the story. But Swan was livid.
“You have two hours to fix this, or you’re a dead man,” Swan threatened. It was no idle threat. Swan had the moral compass of a hungry crocodile.
France undertook a campaign to rebuke the story, but whoever had devised the scheme was meticulous. Every effort he made was thwarted. After an hour, France knew he was out of options. Except one. He would have to disappear. Which was nearly impossible. But France had one card left up his sleeve. His brother, Jules.
France and Jules were twins. Their father was a musician, and their mother was a scientist. France had inherited his father’s artistic tendencies and put them to work in his consulting work. He learned to manipulate media to touch people’s emotions, much like his father had touched people’s hearts with music. Jules was the polar opposite of France. He was intensely introverted and obsessive about science. Well, not exactly science. Jules was obsessed with time travel. Science was just the means to that end.
France funded Jule’s efforts with his wealth. He never expected anything to come of it. Time travel was impossible, after all. But he loved Jules and knew he was not cut out for a media-controlled world. So France built a lab for Jules and provided him with anything he needed. Jules happily lived in his lab, toiling away on his obsession.
France had talked to Jules a few days prior, and Jules claimed he was 99% complete with his time-travel project. As France drove to the lab, he prayed for that last one percent.
France hurried through the door and found Jules standing in a nearly empty lab.
“I did it, France. I created time travel. But they took it,” Jules said.
“Who?” France replied
“I don’t know. Six guys with rifles came in and took it all. All my research. All my equipment.”
“But you made it work?” France asked.
“Yes.”
“Can you do it again?”
A shot rang out and hit Jules in the chest. He slumped to the floor. France dropped down and cradled his brother as his life ebbed away. Jules handed France his com and said, “Enter a date and tap the screen.” Then Jules was gone.
France typed 1934 and tapped the screen. It was a random choice, but he knew he had to escape quickly.
France suddenly found himself in a world he didn’t recognize. A world in the grip of the Great Depression, where advanced technologies were gasoline automobiles and radio. He was standing in a freshly-plowed field surrounded by trees on one side and a dirt road on the other. France heard a shot ring out and saw a cloud of dirt rise a few feet away. He turned and saw a man dressed in black holding a rifle. He must have followed me, France thought. But how? It didn’t matter. He was being shot at. France started running for the trees.
The shooter aimed at France, unaware of the massive bull charging his way. When he finally heard the bull, the shooter turned and got a shot off, wounding the bull but not stopping it. The bull crashed into the shooter, sending him flying several feet. The shooter rolled, grabbed his rifle, and fired another shot, killing the bull. Meanwhile, France made it to the tree line. The shooter was in too much pain to chase France. A moment later, he vanished.
France crashed through the trees and found a train stopped in front of him. He saw an empty boxcar with an open door. The train whistle blew, and France climbed inside.
The wounded shooter reappeared in Jule’s lab.
“Did you get him?” An older man with a shaved head asked.
“No. I had him in my sites when a bull came out of nowhere and ran into me. I think my ribs are broken.”
“I’ll go,” another man in black said.
“No,” the older man said. “He’s gone by now, and he’d be an idiot to come back. But if he does, we’ll get him then.”
The train came to a stop. France opened the door and peeked out. No one was in sight. This is as good a place as any, France thought as he climbed out of the boxcar. He looked around and saw nothing but fields on all sides.
Alright. All I need to do is go back earlier and stop all of this from happening, France thought as he pulled Jule’s com out of his pocket. When he looked at it, the screen was blank except for a date, April 12, 2103. The date he left. Jules must have set it to return to the original time. France didn’t see any way to change the date, and he certainly didn’t want to return to the time he left and get shot. He put the com back in his pocket and began walking down the tracks.
Another thought came to him. I need to change clothes. Buying clothes wasn’t an option. He would have to steal some clothes like they did in those time-travel movies Jules watched endlessly. Sure enough, France eventually happened on a farmhouse with a clothesline fully stocked. He hated to do it, but he had no choice. France took a pair of pants and a shirt. He hoped to return them when he figured out how to travel to a different time.
France also borrowed a shovel from the barn, went down near the tracks, and buried his clothes. He returned the shovel and began hiking down the tracks again.
France was famished by the time he happened upon a hobo camp. A group of men were sitting around a campfire, eating out of tin cups. He was apprehensive, but he walked into the camp anyway.
A man who appeared to be in his thirties spoke up.
“Come join us. We have stew.”
France walked over and sat on the tree trunk next to the man.
“Thank you, I appreciate it.”
“You’re new to this game, ain’t ya?” The hobo said.
“Is it that obvious?”
“Yup. I seen that bewildered look before. Tag along with me for a while. I’ll show you the ropes.”
“That is very kind. Thank you.”
The hobo handed France a tin cup filled with stew.
“Name’s Jerry,” the hobo said.
“I’m France.”
“Like the country? That’s peculiar.”
“Yup.”
“What’s your story?”
France sighed, not knowing what to say. He obviously couldn’t tell the truth. They would think he was insane.
“I lost my job and had to leave town.”
“That’s all of our stories. What’s your trade?
France hesitated.
“What skills do you have? Carpenter? Farmer? Mechanic?”
“Sadly, none. I worked in an office,” France replied.
“You might want to keep that to yourself. Most of the lads here ain’t fans of beancounters.”
“Got it.”
Jerry continued his inquiry.
“You got a girl?”
“No, I was always too busy for a girlfriend.”
“What kind of life is that?”
“A wasted one, I suppose.”
“Ain’t that the truth. Don’t worry. You’re young and handsome. You’ll have no trouble finding a girl once you make a little money.”
The sun started to set as they ate. After dinner, the men rolled out their bedrolls and began to sleep.
“You’ll want to get a blanket soon,” Jerry said. “Lay near the fire. It will keep you warm.”
France did as he was told.
France felt a nudge on his side. It was Jerry’s foot.
“Wake up. We got work to do,” Jerry said.
Every muscle in France’s body was stiff from sleeping on the hard ground. He struggled to get up.
Jerry laughed. “Come on. We’ll get those kinks worked out.”
After a long hike, they came upon a farm. A thin, rough-looking woman was shucking corn behind a small farmhouse.
“Hey, Beth,” Barry shouted.
The woman looked up and said, “‘Bout time.” Then got back to her work.
Jerry smiled. France and Jerry spent the rest of the day doing several tasks around the farm. Jerry showed France what to do, as he was mostly clueless about manual labor. Midday, they stopped for lunch.
“This pie is incredible, Beth,” France said.
“It’s just pie,” she replied.
“Well, it’s the best I ever ate.”
“That’s what I told her,” Jerry said.
As the sun started setting, Beth brought Jerry and France some corn on the cob and beans for dinner. The two men slept in the barn that night. The hay loft was far more comfortable than the ground. France slept like a rock.
The next day, Jerry and France went into town and stopped at the hardware store.
“Got anything for me, Jim?” Jerry asked the owner.
“Bill needs some fences fixed.”
“We’re on it,” Jerry said.
This became their routine. Odd jobs for a few coins or food. Sleeping in barns and under the stars. One day the pair hopped a train to another town looking for work but struck out. They ended up in a hobo camp, sharing a meal with other souls down on their luck.
Then one Friday, Jerry surprised France.
“Tonight, we’re going dancing.”
“What?” France replied.
“Benny Goodman’s band is in town, and I’m taking Beth dancing. She got her cousin to be your date.”
France didn’t know what to say. He just stared at Jerry.
Jerry laughed. “You’re gonna love it. Sue is sweet.”
The two hobos spent the day at Beth’s farmhouse, bathing and washing their clothes.
That night, the four of them spent the evening in a dancehall dancing to the most incredible band France had ever heard. Of course, France fumbled his way through every dance. To her credit, Beth’s cousin, Sue, was good-natured about it and said she enjoyed France’s company all the same.
As the weeks passed, France thought less and less about returning home. He was enjoying the slower pace of life and even the hard work. France realized there wasn’t much waiting for him in 2103. Except stress. And a bullet, probably.
One particularly pleasant day, Jerry and France were walking past a lake surrounded by forest. France reached into his pocket and pulled out Jule’s com. He looked at it and then threw it as hard as he could at the lake. It made a splash as it hit the water and sank.
“What was that?” Jerry asked.
“Just something I don’t need anymore.”
Jerry gave France an odd look.
“Listen, France. I have enjoyed our time together, but I’ve decided to settle down with Beth. She ain’t much to look at, but she has a good heart. And a farm. You’ll be fine on your own. I’m sure of it. And you’re welcome at our farm any time.”
“Good for you, Jerry. I am grateful for all you’ve done for me. You’ve been a great friend. But I think I’ll head out to Chicago.”
“What for?” Jerry asked.
“I’d like to try my hand at advertising.”
This is a rare “extra” story for Mark Starlin Writes! I wrote it specifically to enter the Luna Awards Season Two. I wanted to get back to writing longer fiction, and the contest gave me the motivation to do so. I don’t expect to win the award, but I consider writing a story this length after my bout with writer burnout last year a win for me. Thank you for taking the time to read it. - Mark
Nice.
I have a feeling France will do great in the advertising business.