Free Time Travelers Never Die by Jack McDevitt Page B

promise it’ll go no further.”
    “Okay.”
    Shel’s eyes narrowed. “You promise?”
    “Yes.”
    “Say it.”
    “Come on, Shel. I promise.”
    He picked up the computer bag, unzipped it, stopped, thought about it. He looked at Dave as if he were a stranger. And opened the bag. He removed a Q-pod from it. Or maybe one of those new game-playing devices that were always coming on the market. Dave had lost track of the technology years ago.
    Shel held it out as if it had special significance. “What is it?” Dave asked.
    “I’m not quite sure what to call it. My father called it a converter.” He handed it to Dave.
    Dave took it, turned it over, and shrugged. “So what’s it do?”
    “Lift the lid.”
    Dave complied and watched the converter light up. A lot of numbers appeared on-screen. “Okay. What do you want me to do with it?”
    “I’ll show you. You’ll need a jacket, though.”
    “We’re going outside?”
    He smiled. But it was a dark smile. A smile that signaled way outside . “More or less.”
    Usually, Shel was straightforward. This kind of juking around was utterly unlike him. Dave felt his hair beginning to rise. The way it had Wednesday when he’d picked him up at the Chevron station. “Whatever that means,” Dave said. He got up and went over to the closet. Took out a lined plastic jacket and pulled it around his shoulders. Then he walked to the door.
    Shel shook his head. “Not that way, Dave.”
    “Shel—”
    He reached into the bag and produced a second Q-pod. “I don’t know how these things work. They’re above my pay grade. But just trust me for a minute, okay?”
    Dave frowned at the two units. What in hell was Shel talking about?
    “Hook it onto your belt. There’s a clip on the back.” He waited until Dave complied. Then he did the same.
    “What’s the thing do? We going to listen to a concert?”
    “You see the big black button?”
    “Yes.”
    “On a count of three, push it. Okay?”
    “Okay. But—”
    “Just be patient.” Shel checked his watch. “One.” He zipped his jacket. “Two.” Dave slid his thumb onto the unit and found the large black button.
    “What’s—”
    “Three.”
     
     
    DAVE, utterly puzzled as to what he was—as he thought—going to hear, pushed the button. The room began to fade. To grow darker. Momentarily, he thought he was passing out. But he didn’t grow weak. Simply became mystified. And scared. Then the lights came back, and he got knocked aside.
    A guy in a scruffy brown overcoat bounced away from him. Where the hell’d he come from? And the living room was gone. The walls had vanished, and he was looking at a street scene. At night. Horns blaring, music playing somewhere, lots of old-fashioned cars. The guy who’d collided with him looked back with a snarl. “Watch where you’re going, will you, buddy?”
    The world was full of moving traffic, streetlights, theater marquees. People crowded around him, moving in both directions. Some were trying to get across the street, waiting for a break in traffic.
    And it was cold .
    “You okay, Dave?” Shel was at his right hand. Just a foot or two away.
    “Where are we?” His voice squeaked. “What happened? How the hell did we get here?” His knees buckled, and he’d have fallen had not Shel grabbed him and prevented him from going down.
    Shel pointed at his Q-pod. “It’s a time machine.”
    “For God’s sake, Shel, where are we?”
    “David, we aren’t in Philly anymore.”
    “I can see that.” He was breathless. So much so it was hard to get the words out. The cars were all vintage models. Tall boxes with bumpers. An old-fashioned trolley was unloading passengers, guys with fedoras, women with their hair piled on top of their heads. A horse and wagon.
    “Don’t worry. We can get back home anytime we want. Just don’t lose the converter.”
    “I won’t.” He looked down at it. Grabbed hold of it. “Time machine? It’s not possible, Shel. It can’t be