pieces of destiny by John Francis Miracle Press Pieces of Destiny copyright ©2013 by Miracle Press, Ltd. All Rights Reserved. Additional copyrights can be found following page 345. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. All trademarks mentioned are the property of their respective owners; no infringement is intended or should be inferred. Any resemblance to actual events, locals, or persons, living, dead, or undead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this book may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission from the author. ISBN: 0-000-00000-X Also by the author: Groovy Kind of Love Jagged Angel Project Cerulean Blue (2015) Limited eBook Edition [email protected] Created in the United States of America This book is dedicated to the fine authors Isaac Asimov, David Gerrold, Ken Grimwood and all the other futurists who shaped my life when I was a kid growing up... and made me wonder about “the roads not taken” with time-travel. john francis Introduction This novel is a departure for me. Though I’ve been a science-fiction fan almost from the moment I was able to read, I never thought of writing an science fiction tale myself. My previous novels (Groovy Kind of Love and Jagged Angel) were, respectively, a nostalgic romance and a contemporary thriller. But as much as I occasionally enjoy reading SF, the subject didn’t seem something about which I wanted to write. A few years ago, my online friend Mark Roeder (author of the pop- ular Gay Youth Chronicles published through iUniverse) graciously al- lowed me to offer a few suggestions on his 2002 novel Keeper of Secrets. This story’s intriguing premise involved a contemporary gay teenager, who lived with his family in a 100 year-old house. The boy learns that over a century ago, two gay teenagers died tragically — one murdered, one by suicide — and their ghosts continue to haunt the residence. The story was a two-tiered plot, one dealing with a homophobic delinquent forced through circumstance to live with a family with a gay teen, and then the mystery of several unhappy souls haunting the old mansion. After assisting with the manuscript, I told Mark, “you know, I think there’s a fascinating story here, just in the story of two gay teens from the 1800s. What would their lives be like? What would it be like to be gay in that era? How would their world relate to ours?” Roeder agreed, but pointed out, “it’d take far too much research to tell a story like that.” I reluctantly agreed, and put the idea aside for a couple of years. But the idea of these two gay 1800s teens started haunting me (no pun intended). After mulling it over for several years, I finally thought: what if the story wasn’t about two 1800s teens? What if one was a con- temporary teenager who fell in love with someone from the past? How would the boy survive with the tumultous events of the 1800s? Could he ever make it back to his own time, and for that matter, would he want to? Could the romance survive, or would it ultimately wind up tragically? What would happen if historical events changed, altering the dominos of time? And the story took off from there. I greatly admire some of the genre’s classic time-travel tales, from H.G. Welles’ original Time Machine from 1895 (and the memorable 1960 film produced by George Pal), Richard Matheson’s 1976 novel 4 pieces of destiny Bid Time Return (and the romantic 1979 film adaptation Somewhere in Time), Karl Alexander’s 1979 novel Time After Time (also an excellent film by Nicholas Meyer), my late friend Ken Grimwald’s 1987 novel Replay (optioned to 20th Century-Fox for a film that has not yet been made), as well as my friend David Gerrold’s superb 1972 novella, The Man Who Folded Himself (expanded and reissued in 2003). Add to these Bob Zemeckis and Bob Gale’s amazing scripts to the 1980s Back to the Future film series, and they’ve basically exhausted almost every possible direction in which you can go with time-travel stories. And my short list omits dozens of marvelous time-travel episodes of Twilight Zone (both the original 1960s Rod Serling series and the 1985 revised version), Out- er Limits, Star Trek, and too many others to count. I was determined not to write this novel until I could try something new, or at least attack the plot from an unexpected direction and try to avoid the usual cliches sometimes found in this sort of story. After spending many weeks of research, I also wanted to avoid the themes I had written before, and this time feature a contemporary “out” gay teen- ager who had no fear of who he was, and also knew exactly where he was going in life and what he wanted. Despite the historical setting, the story is more about people than it is about events; the reader need not worry that this will turn into a history lesson. There’ll be some romance, a dash of adventure, and, yes, a little sex as well. Don’t be put off by the initial science-fiction introduction;Pieces of Destiny is intended to be not so much a far-out yarn as it is a heartfelt story about adventure, fate, and the sacrifices one is willing to make, all in the name of love. My heartfelt thanks to those who have provided comments on the early drafts of the story, including my longtime partner Roddy, as well as my friends on Awesomedude.com, including The Dude, Cole Parker, VWL, and Tragic Rabbit. I also thank Mark Roeder, for inspiring the story in the first place, as well as Dom Luka (of the Gay Authors Guild) for offering additional thoughts. And of course, thanks go to my readers, who continue to help make my efforts worthwhile. —John Francis May 2013 Northridge, CA 5 pieces of destiny john francis 8 pieces of destiny Chapter 1 t started as a low rumble, then began to roar like the sound of a thousand stampeding elephants. The ground beneath my feet was Ishaking violently, a flurry of rocks grazed my shoulder, and I hit the ground with a groan, getting a face full of dirt. My flashlight winked out, and the cave began to collapse around me. Oh, shit. I knew immediately that this one was going to be bad. Very bad. I’d been well-aware of the risks in exploring caves for years. I’d been an amateur spelunker since I was nine, mostly because of my father, who was into archeology as a hobby. “Don’t ever underestimate the risks below ground,” he used to tell me. “Cave-ins, poison-gas pockets, or just losing your way and getting hopelessly lost… you can’t ever be too careful.” His words came back to haunt me as the rumbling grew even louder. I fought to open my eyes, coughing as I tried to get my bearings through the thick clouds of dust that filled the air.I must be seeing things, I thought, as several small rock chips glanced off my head. Everything seems bathed in some weird kind of blue glow. But there shouldn’t be any light underground! “Nice effect,” I said out loud, “but you can turn it off now!” I made an attempt to get back up on my feet, but I felt like a drunken man trying to stand on a capsizing ship. I immediately fell back down and cursed, then tried to lean up on my elbows. Suddenly, there was a crack of thun- der, and the rock wall behind me began to collapse. I felt a dull pain on the left side of my head. My face hit the dirt floor for the second time, and I tasted blood. 9 john francis The unearthly blue glow brightened to an almost-blinding level, and my nostrils stung with a sharp burning smell, like ozone during a lightning storm. I instinctively curled into a ball, trying to protect my head, praying that I’d somehow escape getting crushed by the thousands of pounds of rock above me. I squeezed my eyes tighter, as if that could somehow save me. Then, just as quickly as it had started, the roar dissipated into total silence, leaving my ears ringing. For an instant, I felt freezing cold and I couldn’t breathe. There was a momentary lurch, as if I was spinning inside a blender, and the ground beneath my feet seemed to evaporate. Then... I blacked out. I don’t know how long I lay on the cave floor — maybe a few min- utes, maybe an hour. I quickly discovered that regaining consciousness wasn’t like it was in the movies: when I came to, I felt a wave of nausea, then immediately rolled to my side and heaved up most of the lunch I had eaten earlier that day. That’s one Big Mac I didn’t need,I thought rue- fully, as I wiped my mouth on my sleeve. I sat up in the dark and fumbled clumsily for my flashlight, which was just two feet away from me, half- buried in dirt and gravel. Bracing myself, I hit the switch, and a powerful beam of light shot out.