The Time Travelers' Club: Chapter 33 -- More Secrets

Mrs. Steers stepped out to the kitchen and put a kettle of water to boil.   Sam sat back in his chair, staring at the blue and green patterned rug on the floor. 

Sam quietly talked to himself. "What was that?  Was I really in London?   Did I see Jack the Ripper?   We must've been there.  Was it all a hallucination?   Seeing, smelling, and walking through ghosts…  It had to be real. Maybe I'm as crazy as Mrs. Steers."

Mrs. Steers watched him through the kitchen door, knowing what would come next.  A flood of questions.  Some she could answer, some she could not, and some she would not.

"Sam," Mrs. Steers said from the kitchen. "Why don't you go out onto the porch and get some fresh air.   I'll be out in a moment with some snacks."

Sam stumbled through the library and out into the hall.  His stomach was still a little queasy.  When he opened the front door, a gust of cold fresh air hit him.  He took a deep breath of the clean air, held it a moment then exhaled.   He sat in one of the porch chairs.

Mrs. Steers came out with a tray with a plate of cookies, a peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich, and two mugs -- one with hot chocolate and one with tea-- and an old leather bound book.

"Here, Sam."  She handed him the mug of hot chocolate.  "Drink this.  It will make you feel better.  And here's a sandwich for you."

Sam realized he was starving and gobbled down the sandwich.  Mrs. Steers sat in her favorite rocker and sipped her tea.

"Mrs. Steers, I have to admit there at the end of our trip, I really got scared.  I've never experienced anything like those… whatever you call those balls of light…"

"Orbs.  They're called orbs.  Sam, you were never alone.   Someone was always watching you.  Either me or Rose or Ari. That was part of their assignments."

Sam looked puzzled.   "Assignments?"

"Yes, each of us had an assignment.  I had to pick up a copy of the Namvelt's book.  Xavier was gathering information.  Rose and Ari had an object to pick up.   After that, they volunteered to keep an eye on you."

"Object?  What object?"

"A ball point pen.  First, let me say, you cannot leave any objects that don't belong in other times."

Sam shook his head.  "I don't understand. What are you talking about?"

"Those men chasing you through the alleys, well, they try to leave objects in other eras where the object doesn't belong.  The ball point pen wasn't invented until later.  They tried to leave one in the House of Lords.  Their goal is to alter history."  Mrs. Steers sipped her tea.

"For example, leaving the pen meant that someone would question what it was.  Where did it come from? Who made it?  This would have caused history to change.  Maybe for the better or the worse.   If someone did go back and alter history, the chances of us being here right now might be slim."

"In other words, maybe wars wouldn't have happened," said Sam, intrigued by her story and the idea of changing history.

Mrs. Steers continued.  "Or maybe worse, there would have been greater consequences.   Maybe a different or more devastating war would have occurred.   Who knows?  The newspaper, for example, might have eventually become a part of the crime scene, but who knows for sure.  We don't know if it would or not.  The incantation has yet to be a success.  We tried it once, but it didn't work.  After that, we took a vow not to try it again for fear that it might work."

"How did you know about the newspaper?"

"Rose told me."

"Are you mad for trying to leave it behind?  I thought I could stop Jack from killing again.  Maybe the police could figure out who it was from the fingerprint."

"I'm not mad at you, but you have a lot to learn about history and the incantations. What if the last victim had been spared?  They caught Jack and hung him.  There would be no mystery for future generations.   Or more importantly, history would have been altered.  Maybe for the better.  But maybe for the worse. It's a touchy subject.  And the subject of great debates."

"Are you saying Jack should have been allowed to kill more people?   That sounds crazy.  If I could go back and save my dad..."

"Ah.  Your dad.  He would still be alive. You would be traveling somewhere else now.”

"That's right.”

"That is out of your control.  Not to sound preachy, but someone greater than us makes those decisions and when they are made, that's what we must accept."  For the first time, Mrs. Steers glared at him with stern eyes.  She reminded him of his mom with her stern "do-as-I-say-you-know-I'm-right" look.

Sam held back, struggling to find something nasty to say, but he didn't.  He knew what she was saying.  And at that moment, he hated her for it. Taking a deep breath, Sam returned to the newspaper, knowing that this conversation would go nowhere.

"The newspaper..." said Sam. 

Before he could finish, Mrs. Steers curtailed the conversation. "You had no idea what you were doing. Besides it may or may not be a real fingerprint from Jack the Ripper.  We don't know if that fingerprint belonged to the serial killer."

Sam looked saddened by the news.  "So, it was a fake?"

"Maybe.  Like I said, it may or may not have been the real fingerprint of Jack."

"Then why did you write it was?"

"Actually, as I recall, it said 'may have the only clue.'  I was not sure, because it was left at the scene of the horrible murder by the same men who were chasing us."

“So, those guys left it at the scene?” Sam was lost. "What is this really all about?"

Mrs. Steers nodded.  “Yes, they tried to. As I recall, it was about this time last year.”

“Wow,” said Sam.

Mrs. Steers grinned.  "You are now a part of a club that most people don't know exists.   We call ourselves The Time Travelers’ Club.  There are several chapters all over the world.  Our mission is to keep time intact."

"Time intact?  What do you mean intact?"

"Well, right now, there's a small and very dangerous group. Dr. Herkeimer is the leader.  He's not a nice person."  Mrs. Steers shook her head.  "He's pretty mean and causes a lot of trouble.  They are the ones trying to leave objects in places where they would not usually be found."

"So," Sam said thoughtfully.  "You make sure that time doesn't get interrupted or altered.   Just like my leaving the newspaper."

"That's right.  Many objects in the attic are items they and other groups like them tried to leave in other time periods.    That's why I question the fingerprint on the newspaper.  It would not have worked anyway.  Trying to leave it for the police to find it. You don't know the incantation to make it stay there."

“Oh.” Sam stopped right before taking a drink of hot chocolate.  "Are there a lot of incantations?"

"Yes, many incantations, spells, charms.   You see I only told you about the time-travel part of the book.  It has other chapters on spells that can do all sorts things.  The Doctor has one copy of the book but it's incomplete.  It took a lot of effort and pain for us to learn that.  We know there are… or were... seven copies.  We are tracking them down one by one.  We can't let them get a complete copy.  You see, they don't have all the incantations.  They have and incomplete copy."

"This is confusing," said Sam.  "There are seven copies of this book and you guys are trying to find them."

"Yes, they have a damaged copy.  We have one here for the moment.  Others are protected by other club members around the world."

"How do you know there were only seven?"

"Truthfully we don't," said Mrs. Steers.  "The legend tells us that there were seven.  There may be other copies but have references to only seven.  And, of course, we have gone back to the time they were printed, but that’s complicated."

"Legend?"

"Yes, listen to this." said Mrs. Steers.  She picked up the book she had brought out with her, opened it, and read aloud.

"In a damp chamber, a gold inlaid box sits on a stone pedestal.  Inside lies a papyrus scroll wrapped in white silk.  No one knows its true origins.  Only legends and rumors of its existence. It is not lost, only hidden, protected by a powerful incantation so mighty that, in all of history, only two have broken it long enough to enter the chamber.  Many have died over time keeping the scroll safe.  Many have died trying to steal it.  It is guarded by a group known as 'Tempo Servos.'"

Mrs. Steers continued.  "The one who broke through the incantation stole the scroll and rode swift to the North lands, now called Russia, where he studied and translated it by candlelight.  The scroll was returned to its chamber.   The translation presumably lost.  Ages passed.  A lone copy of the translation was discovered and made its way to London. From that copy in 1835, an unknown number of copies were innocently printed into book form.  No records of the printing company survived the horrid fire during the book's production. All involved with the printing of it perished.   It was rumored, among the Tempo Servos, that seven copies survived and scattered around the world.

The club have traveled the globe seeking them, returning them to secrecy before its true power can be used.  Their mission is to keep them from falling into the wrong hands."

Mrs. Steers stopped and looked at Sam.

"Whoa," said Sam.  "Those guys are trying to get a complete copy of the book and you guys are out to stop them."

"Yes," said Mrs.  Steers.

"So, Rose and Ari and Xavier and you are all part of this group?"

"Yes.  Tempo servos means time savers in Latin. Albert learned to make those orbs like nobody's business.  Rose is the master of them. Not everyone can make them."

"Orbs?"  Sam raised one eyebrow in question.

"Orbs of pure energy.   They are used in duels or in defense.  They are also handy light sources. Each person's orb is a different color.  In the dark, you easily identify a person by the color of their orb."

Sam stared in disbelief.   "You and all the others are a part of a group working to stop another group from changing history.   And you guys can use orbs like... hand grenades to fight.  Can you teach me how to make them?"

"You will learn. Or at least we’ll find out if you can. You are now a member of the club."

"Cool.  I can hardly wait to tell…"

Before he could finish, Mrs. Steers said, in a stern voice.  "Absolutely not!  You must never tell anyone what you have seen or heard. We are a secret society.   You must never ever tell. You must promise me."

Sam had only known Mrs. Steers for a short time, but somehow, he could tell she meant business about this secret.

"I promise."

"Your promise is sacred.   Just think you are now a part of the best-kept secret in the world.   You must not and cannot tell anyone.   You have so much to learn.   It's going to be fun. For now, it has to be a secret."  Sam understood.

Sam and Mrs. Steers sat on the porch until about 11:30. The wind picked up.  Snow flurries began falling

"What a day," Sam exclaimed, started getting cold.

"Yes, you've had quite an adventure."  Mrs. Steers laughed.  "Well, you started out with a simple school assignment and how you have found yourself in the middle of a very important mission.   Your life will change."

"You know the true identity of Jack the Ripper and you other secret.   If you tell anyone how you know, they will only think you are crazy.   So keep it to yourself and enjoy it.   Think of it this way, you now know something the Ripper specialists would love to know."

Sam grinned.  "I saw Jack the Ripper."  He stopped and pondered what she said.  "Mrs. Steers, you said other secret.  What's the other?"

"That's your secret." Mrs. Steers grinned.

Sam started to say something, but she stopped him.

"It's not my business."  Mrs. Steers shook her head. "I will only say, you're not the only one whose had that opportunity..."  She said no more, and it wasn't discussed any further.

Mrs. Steers looked at him and thought if only he knew what lay ahead.   She had to meet with the others soon to discuss Sam's role in the group.  They would have many adventures.  Some would be dangerous.