Saving Grandpa pt 7- Future

Five years have passed since I let Juan go. In my heart, he is no longer my Juan. That distinction goes to my grandson who does not yet exist.

My thoughts turn to him often lately, especially on these late nights as I hold my daughter in my arms. Zinc should be home soon, and I glance out the window again. The Inner’s ground has begun to glow in anticipation of “dawn,” but the only movement out there belongs to the wind.

My gaze tacks back to the infant at my bosom, staring up at me with eyes just like her father’s, like the night sky of the Outer.

“Shall I someday tell you the story of how we fixed the world?”

Glitter fills her gaze as if she understands. I know that’s impossible, but I’ve been through impossible, and I like to think my little girl is exceptionally smart. It’s a mother’s prerogative.

“Well, it wasn’t easy.”

We never saw Juan again, and with no access to the resources of the Outer, we had to rely on what we found in his notes to figure out how to medically treat these people. Since he wrote in some combination of English and Latin, interpretation was up to me. And I didn’t speak Latin.

We lost as many as we saved.

It’s an iron weight in my heart, all these atrocities Juan caused. I wish I could talk to him, talk sense into him. I wish I had never stopped looking for him, that I had found him sooner, before things went so horribly wrong.

But I can’t change the past. Such wishes will only put me on a dangerous path. Every time I have such thoughts, I call up an image of my grandson and wonder how many times he tried to change things.

I still don’t know what happened to him. Did he leave me in the hut because he felt his part in the mission was over? Or did his being an anomaly finally catch up with him? Did he cease to exist? Will he exist again?

That opens up another full box of questions. Is this the daughter who will be Juan III’s mother? Or will I have another daughter? Will I have that daughter at all? Did Juan have a son, the right son? Did Juan III’s other grandmother even survive being a zombie, and can she forgive the evil tyrant?

Maybe she doesn’t know. Maybe he’s hiding his real identity.

Ug, it hurts my head, all these possibilities and knowing nothing for sure.

I hug my daughter and hope my grandson will exist someday. I hope he’ll be just as proud of me, of us, as he was that day when he barged into the pet supply store to find me so I could save his grandpa.

With a smirk, I look at my work table, where a new calculating helmet sits on a mannequin head, feathers glowing scarlet as it waits to be activated. I still think the skull design is macabre, but it has grown on me.

A mop sashays around the table, soaking up the oils, lubricants, and accelerants I spilled while working earlier. I’m a bit of an untidy worker, and the mop is my most prized invention. If I don’t have to worry about the mess, I can keep moving forward.

I wonder how long it took us to invent the calculators the first time when we didn’t have a template to copy or a society to rebuild.

Regardless, this one is finally ready for testing. Five years has felt like a lifetime. How much has changed in the Outer? Are people still looking for me, or have they given up like they did on Juan?

Guilt twitches in my chest, tightening my throat, at what I must have put my family through, but I couldn’t come back before now, not without knowing exactly how the calculators worked, not when the Inner needed me so much.

Standing, I hold my daughter with one arm and reach for the helmet. Swinging the feathers over my shoulder, I slip it over my face and position myself alongside the doorway. It’s good to surprise Zinc every once in a while. Otherwise, he gets too serious. Sometimes the whole world sits on his shoulders, and I have to scare it off.

My daughter fusses, and I rock her, grinning in pride at the wonderful things we’ve made here in the Inner. I will never regret saving Grandpa.

~fin~

Thank you so much for reading! Any thoughts shared are greatly appreciated.