Chapter 10: West

"I need to know a few things?" Mark asked, feeling confused, "What do you mean? What do I need to know?"

"I don't understand it all yet," Cassie replied, "but I can tell that you have the ability to change what's going to happen. The future is in turmoil because of you."

"What are you saying?" Mark responded, "Do you have some insight into the future?"

However, her response to that made him feel more than a little alarmed.

"Yes, I do. I'm a psychic, and my power is to perceive future happenings. Normally, the future is as simple as a network of similar paths, that one can travel down, but my visions are all being scrambled, as long as you're around. It's a little painful. The closer you are, the harder it is to see anything clearly."

"That's why you were disoriented, and seemed like you were in pain, when I got closer to you in the restaurant." Mark correctly guessed.

"It'll be easier if we can hurry this up." Cassie continued a moment later, beginning to rub her head a little, "You need to use your machine to go back."

"You... know about my machine?"

"You're going to need to go on a long journey. Your road won't be an easy one. Your goal is to strengthen the defenses of the world against evil."

"I don't understand."

"Go to the city of Chicago, in Illinois, on October 27th, 1985. There's a man there, who many believe to be dead, named West. He's a student of medicine, and he has a special formula, which you need. Take that formula to November 10th, 1946 in the same city, and stay there for about a week. Soon, you'll know what you have to do."

"Can't you tell me more?" Mark asked, feeling flabbergasted, "I still don't know what you really want from me."

However, Cassie was already shaking her head sadly, and in another moment, she continued.

"I wish I could explain everything to you, but that might actually decrease your chances of success. You'll understand in time. Now, please go, and don't return here. It's hard for me to even speak to you. Just... trust the person whose life you save. He has the potential to change things by hiself. No. No more questions. Please go."

Mark was starting to feel very frustrated with the young woman, but she did seem to be in a lot of pain, or perhaps simply confusion. In the end, though, it was plain that she'd already told him all that she was going to, and not wanting to cause her any more pain or distress, the time traveler retreated, taking his machine back through time, and flying it back across the town, until he was back at the very time and place that he'd left Dobson at. He could see her smiling knowingly as he dismounted from the machine, but of course, he had a lot of new information to tell her. Still, he waited until they were both in the time machine, and had slowed the world around them to a crawl, before he recited Cassie's message to her in full. Dobson's reaction certainly wasn't what he'd been expecting, however.

Mark had never met a physicist who'd been willing to take the idea of psychic insights seriously before, but Dobson didn't even ask any questions about it; as though she already had a lot of experience with the topic. However, the moment that Mark mentioned the name of West, Dobson's jaw fell open all the way. It was several more seconds before she bothered closing it again, and she spent another few seconds in thoughtful silence, even after that, giving Mark the time he needed to finish telling his story. Finally, though, almost as soon as he was finished, Dobson spoke up with another question.

"She didn't happen to mention West's first name, did she?"

"No. I was hoping she'd explain more, but she..."

"Herbert."

"I'm sorry?"

"It's obvious who she's talking about. She's referring to Herbert West. He was a medical student in the mid-80s, who developed a formula, which he used to... well, to reanimate deceased organisms, and parts of organisms. He got into some trouble while he was studying at the University of Zurich, came to America, got into more trouble at Miskatonic University in Massachusetts, and disappeared for a while after that. Honestly, I wasn't aware he'd set up shop in Chicago later that year."

"Oh, that's right." Mark noted, smiling just a little, "You did some research on these various 'gifted' scientists a while back."

"Well, I didn't want their secrets to be lost," Dobson noted, "but honestly, I never bother to pursue West's findings, beyond confirming that he really did accomplish what he said he had. You see, like many great scientists, he was never able to fully perfect his formula, and my own work in biology just wasn't good enough to do it for him. It's not really my primary field anyway. You understand."

"But if he never perfected his formula, why would Cassie want me to get it from him?" Mark asked, more to himself than to Dobson.

"I don't know." Dobson replied, however. "It's often hard to tell just what these psychics have in mind. By the way; do you believe her?"

"About West and the formula? It's hard to say. I believe that my presence really did have an adverse effect on her. She probably did have a special power of some kind, but as for the advice she gave me... What would you do?"

"I'm not sure." Dobson admitted a moment later, shrugging, "In the end, I might do what she said. You haven't got any better leads at the moment. Still, she did admit that you made her uncomfortable. It might be a trap."

However, as Mark thought that over, he realized that he wasn't too worried about that, with Dobson by his side. She'd already proven herself more powerful than him in a lot of ways, as well as stronger and faster, and in some ways, she was a more talented physicist than him, though she hadn't discovered time travel on her own.

"Even if it is a trap, we should be able to beat it." Mark said at last, turning the dials on his machine again.

"Not necessarily." Dobson replied, however, which drew the time traveler's attention back to her again, in curiosity and concern.

"You have powerful machines with you, right?"

"Yes. Very powerful."

"You can design all sorts of advanced technology, with just access to some resources and a day or so to prepare, right?"

"If I need to."

"So what are you worried about? I mean, what can the 1980s throw at us, that you can't deal with?"

"Lots of things." Dobson replied, however, not really giving him much of an answer, "Just because I'm powerful doesn't mean I'm stupid. There have been lots of beings throughout history, whose powers dwarf mine, on my best day, or who'd have an easy time getting the upper hand over me under certain conditions, and honestly, Chicago bothers me in particular."

By that point, however, Mark was starting to feel a little worried as well, as he watched Dobson's expression turn to one of deep concern. It was several seconds before he had the courage to ask her why.

"I can't be sure, but I think something nasty may have happened there during the 80s. There were rumors of some Chicago cult, infiltrating the local mobs, and a lot of the mob tactics changed after that. Fewer murders, more thefts and trespassing... That sort of thing. I didn't worry about it too much at first, but the more I read about it, the more it bothered me. I think something happened to the criminal underworld in the 1980s; something subtle enough, that it's still hard to track down evidence about it."

"It might just be a conspiracy theory." Mark suggested, but Dobson seemed to lighten up at that point, and soon, she was smiling again.

"You're probably right." she said, "I wouldn't even have thought of it, if your friend hadn't mentioned Chicago specifically. Anyway, are we heading out or not?"

Dobson's smile was infectious, however, and soon, Mark was wearing one himself, as his machine began to pass backwards through time, flying to the northeast.

Chicago, Illinois, October 27th, 1985

At last, the time machine had arrived at its destination. Looking down over the city below, Mark could see many vans, and even more boxy-looking cars driving along the roads. The buildings looked similar to the ones from future times, though some areas of the city did seem less developed. In fact, Mark was astonished to find that after his many journeys through time, he was beginning to recognize the various decades by sight alone. Cities were a different matter, since each one seemed to have a few buildings that were distinct, but otherwise, a lot of the buildings looked the same. They all seemed to blend together after a while.

Fortunately, Dobson seemed to know her way around, and pointed him in the direction of a collection of brick buildings, in one of the outer areas of the city, where there weren't so many "skyscrapers."

"That's the University of Chicago." Dobson explained as they flew over the city, "They do a lot of work on cancer treatments, among other things. It's a good spot to research medicine, if you're in that field, so we'll probably find West in that general area. Even if we don't, we may find some clues about where he's headed to next."

With a nod, Mark drove his machine closer to the ground, until he was skimming just a few yards over the tops of the buildings. Soon, he'd arrived on the campus itself, and he and his ally dismounted from the machine, while it was still hovering a foot or so in the air. It vanished almost at once, following instructions that Mark had previously given to Tron. After all, for the moment, they didn't need it.

Soon, Mark and Dobson had entered one of the larger buildings, through what seemed to be the front door, and as usual for an academic institution, there were long hallways in that place, leading to a large number of doors. Out of curiosity, Mark paused to look in on one of the classrooms, and felt more than a bit shocked, because of what he saw there.

Inside that classroom, there were a large number of young men, all dressed in sport uniforms of one kind or another. All of them had numbers on their shirts, and they were well-padded to prevent injuries. Every so often, they would all react in unison, nodding their heads, or pumping their fists in the air, as though that were, itself, some sort of synchronized sport. Still, what really stunned Mark was the sight of the person who was apparently their coach.

Not only was the coach a girl, but she seemed, at first, to be some kind of unfortunate woman. At the very least, she was dressed like one; with clothing that revealed a great deal of skin, and was very tight, even where it didn't. Mark looked away as soon as he caught sight of her, and was immediately distressed by what he'd just seen. He'd had very little experience with what it was like to live in the late twentieth century, but somehow, it had never occurred to him that dressing in such a revealing way would be considered normal for teachers. He still didn't entirely believe it, but the sight had shaken him up. When a moment later, he turned back to the hallway, and found that Dobson had vanished, it only shook him up even more. He was just beginning to wonder if she was secretly trying to change some past event in her favor, when Dobson reappeared again, turning a corner near the end of the hallway, and almost skipping towards him with a bright smile on her face.

"Yeah." Dobson said, as soon as she'd gotten close to Mark again, "He's here, alright. He left some of his notes in the biology classroom down the hall at the end of this one. He didn't even try to change his name when he moved here. Speaking of which..."

"Speaking of which?" Mark asked, starting to feel left out, and not really understanding what Dobson meant. Still, in a few moments, she continued.

"What I mean is that you decided to travel through time under an assumed name, and probably for good reason. If you're going to introduce me to someone, it might be best to invent one for me too."

Mark had had so many other concerns on his mind, that honestly, the thought had never even occurred to him, but Dobson was right. For her own sake, it might be best if she adopted a false name, to use in other time periods. He took only a few moments to think it over, before he'd come up with one that, he thought, sounded good.

"I guess something like Olivia Vaughn would do well enough." Mark suggested, not really sure if it would, and sure enough, Dobson's face wrinkled up a little in distaste as she heard the name. Still, when she replied, she seemed to have relaxed a bit.

"It sounds a little too british to me," she complained, "Still, I doubt he's going to realize it's not my real name, so it'll probably do just fine. Anyway, I've been thinking about West some more, and I think you'll have an easier time getting his formula if you can do it in secret. The best thing to do might be for the two of us to explore the biology lab, and see if we can find any samples. It should be a bright green liquid in either a vial, a bottle or a syringe."

"That's fine, to start with," Mark replied, picking up on the chain of reasoning that Dobson was using, "but there's a good chance there won't be any samples. If there aren't, I think the next step should be to study his notes, and see if we can figure out how he made the formula to begin with. If we can manage that, we might be able to make some ourselves."

Dobson just nodded, and soon, the two had gone back the way that she'd come, and were stepping into the biology lab, looking around for anything bright green and formula-looking. Unfortunately, though they searched every shelf in the room over the next several minutes, and inside each cabinet and drawer, there didn't seem to be any samples left behind. It was only then that Mark gave in, and picked up the notes that Dobson had been referring to. Unfortunately, they didn't seem to contain any recipes, but they did mention a number of developmental stages in the history of the development of the formula, and in some cases, talked about breakthroughs, based on specific events; even giving locations and dates where the various breakthroughs had been made.

On the whole, the documents seemed to have been written, as though they were intended to be recited, like a speech. It all looked very professional-quality, though, except for the final sentence of the speech.

"In short," the last sentence said, "with only a few more experiments, and perhaps a minor addition or two, we can do what man has always dreamed of doing; we can beat death."

Mark swallowed as he read that, but when he stopped to think about it, he realized that in spirit, West wasn't that much different from Dobson, or really, himself. Each of them was determined to accomplish things that no one else could; to forge new paths in science, and each of them had done so, in their own way. In the end, as Mark put the notes back down on the lab table that he'd gotten them from, he really only had one thing to say about them.

"I admit; I'm impressed."

"I'm glad to hear that."

The voice had come from the door to the hallway, and at once, Mark and Dobson both turned to face its owner. There in the doorway, there stood a young man, who was dressed in a white lab coat, with dark brown hair and large glasses. He was a slim man, with a firmly-set face, and he wore a stern, though not an angry expression. It didn't take much effort to guess who the man was, even before Dobson confirmed it.

"Mister West. It's an honor to finally meet you."

However, West didn't look as though he felt honored. In fact, his expression seemed more suspicious than anything else, and when he spoke to Dobson directly, his words contained absolutely no direct reply to hers, or for that matter, any kind of greeting at all.

"Who are you? What's going on here?"

"I'm Dr. Mark Lightley." Mark began, "This is Dr. Olivia Vaughn. We're both leading experts in our fields, and we're very interested in studying the breakthroughs you've made in..."

"Vaughn?" West asked curiously, turning to face Dobson, as though he was still suspicious of her, "Is that your real name? Your height is different, and you have a differently-shaped nose and ears, but in other respects, you remind me of Helen Dobson."

Dobson, to her credit, didn't even flinch. Apparently, she'd been expecting a question like that one, although it shook Mark up considerably. West seemed to have taken notice of Mark's alarm, but it was Dobson who, for the time being, he was really paying attention to.

"I'm not surprised." Dobson replied, "We are related, though I'm not her daughter or anything."

By that point, however, West had actually begun to smile a bit, and soon, he was marching across the room, to a locked cabinet. In another moment, he'd pulled a key out of one pocket, and unlocked the cabinet's large, metal front, opening it and removing two items. One was a small package made of a substance that resembled leather, and the other was a small envelope. In a moment, he'd placed the envelope onto one of the nearby tables, opening it up. However, before he removed anything from it, he looked over at Dobson again, still with just a bit of a suspicious eye.

"I forgot to ask what fields the two of you are in."

"Mark is mainly involved in temporal physics." Dobson explained, a bit too honestly for Mark's taste, "As for me, I have some experience with a wide range of fields. Advanced physics, thermal energy, reanimated biological organisms, psychochemistry, optics, grav..."

"Reanimated?" West asked in amazement, seeming, for a moment, to see a new kind of threat in Dobson, "You've been studying how to reanimate dead tissue?"

"Not exactly." Dobson admitted, "It's more that I have experience studying an organism, which has already been reanimated."

"A reanimated organism..." West muttered softly, looking very worried for a moment, but at last, he asked, "Would you mind describing it for me?"

"Not at all. I'm talking about Adam Frankenstein."

For several seconds, total silence reigned in that room, as Herbert West mouthed the name in near-disbelief, but finally, a nervous grin began to cross his face, and in a moment, he'd made a proposition.

"Would you care to participate in a joint venture with me, Dr. Vaughn? If you'll share with me your notes on the monster of Frankenstein, I'll share my findings on my reagent with you. That's a fair deal, wouldn't you say? Together, this could lead to a whole new branch of biology."

"Actually, that's part of the reason why we're here, Mr. West." Mark interrupted, "We need a sample of your reagent to experiment with."

However, West's face turned grave, the moment that Mark spoke up, and in a moment, he'd given his reply.

"Under no circumstances."

"What?" Mark asked, feeling a bit flustered, and not really noticing Dobson's disapproving expression, "Why not?"

"This is still a very experimental reagent." West answered, "Even if I was entirely convinced that both of your were experts, and knew what you were doing, I still wouldn't just hand it out like popcorn, and I want to personally monitor all experiments with it. Remember, my academic career is riding on this. If I don't see what happens to each experiment, how am I supposed to write up my findings accurately?"

"In other words, he's saying that where the reagent goes, he goes." Dobson explained.

"Right." West replied, "Also, I wouldn't mind seeing the looks on your faces when you see it in action for the first time. After that, you'll be begging to help with my experiments."

"In that case, I guess there's no point in keeping it a secret anymore." Dobson said with a smile, "I'll like to see that same look on your face, about forty years ago, and I plan to."

"Wait a minute, Vaughn!" Mark exclaimed, already beginning to panic, as he realized what Dobson was about to do, but although she turned to look at him when he spoke, it was clear that Dobson wasn't going to wait for anyone. She'd already decided what she wanted to do.

"My friend here is one of many throughout history, who've designed and built fully-functional time transport devices. We plan to take your formula back in time. Would you like to come along?"

For another moment, there was a pause, and total silence, but soon, West had spoken up again, sounding doubtful, but amazingly, not scornful of the idea.

"I hope you're being serious about that. If this entire encounter was meant as an elaborate attempt to mock me..."

"No! No!" Dobson exclaimed, with both eyes closed, and a bright smile on her face, "I'm serious. My friend here is amazing; just like you, and he's already had his machine modified by experts in various time periods. I'll bet if you agreed to come with us, you could find ways to do the same with your reagent."

West, for the moment, was just continuing to look at Dobson curiously, but Mark had had about enough.

"Can we talk, Vaughn?" Mark asked, feeling very angry with his new parter, but she didn't seem to feel the same way about him, when she turned to face him, still smiling and still apparently seeing no problem with how things were going.

"Seems like awkward timing, but okay." she said, "What's up?"

"You shouldn't have told him about the time machine without my approval." Mark said, still feeling very angry, though Dobson's smile was a bit disarming, "Brilliant though he is, Mr. West..."

"...Is someone whose help we need." Dobson said, still unperturbed, "Remember what Cassie said; strengthen the defenses of the world against evil. What could be better than a reagent that brings back the dead; especially if it could be perfected?"

"But I don't trust him." Mark practically hissed, but before Dobson could reply to that, West spoke up.

"I don't trust you either, Dr. Lightley." West said somberly, "Honestly, I don't know what you're trying to accomplish, and I don't really care, but if your plan involves helping me complete my experiments with the reagent, then I think we can work together. We might even be able to come to some kind of agreement, if you don't find that too upsetting."

He'd said those last few words in a somewhat scornful tone of voice, as though he didn't really understand Mark's objection, and assumed it was just an emotional one, which could and should be dismissed. His whole tone and attitude gave Mark an unpleasant chill.

"Cassie told you we needed his formula." Dobson explained, "For that, according to Mr. West himself, we've got to bring him along. Telling him about the machine was the only conclusion that made sense. Did you think we could bring him back in time without him finding out about it?"

"Well, no, but..."

"I still haven't refused your offer, Dr. Vaughn." West interrupted, as though hoping to get the subject back onto a topic that he liked, but Mark still had misgivings.

It was quite obvious that Herbert West was a very ambitious and amoral man, with no worries about the harm that his reagent could cause, and no motive for helping them, aside from the desire to experiment with it further. If there'd been another alternative, Mark would have preferred not to even encounter someone like him, but Dobson was right, in a sense. There wasn't any choice, if he wanted to follow Cassie's advice. As for ignoring her advice, and just trying to resolve the problem on his own, the thought had occurred to him more than once. He didn't really have any reason to trust Cassie, even if she was a genuine psychic, but somehow, he didn't want to stop following her instructions just yet. It was, he thought, probably just because he was a scientist, and he was still curious. He wanted to know, deep down inside, if her predictions had been real or not.

In that sense, he had mixed feelings about that situation, and was actually beginning to consider taking West along. After all, Cassie's prediction hadn't said anything about -not- taking him. However, just as he was thinking the matter over, with Dobson and West discussing further specifics on their own, Mark happened to glance back towards the lab doorway, and saw someone there who nearly shocked him half to death.

It was the scantily-clad woman from the classroom, and she was staring at Mark, wide-eyed, as though her eyes didn't even have lids. Worse yet, however, her eyes seemed, for a moment, to be bright green and glowing with a light from within. It was only a brief impression that he got, and it vanished quickly, but Mark was never entirely sure whether it had been a real light, from within her eyes, or just a trick of the green light, shining from within a small bottle of reagent, which West had pulled out of his leather-like parcel. Mark found it a bit spooky; especially coming from a woman who was dressed so provokatively.

At last, however, the woman motioned to Mark with one finger, waving her other hand across the door frame, as though to sweep aside a curtain of some kind, and that was when something truly terrifying began to happen. Entirely against his own will, Mark found his feet moving, closer to the woman's location. His legs felt numb as he tried to resist, but he couldn't stop himself from moving, or even speak aloud, to warn Dobson of what was happening to him. She, for her part, didn't sound as if she'd noticed, and was just continuing to talk to West as if nothing strange was happening at all.

Foot by foot, Mark was lead into the hallway, with the woman in front of him, seeming to glide backwards along the floor; never taking a step backward, yet never any closer to him, no matter how far he walked. At last, one of the doorways in the hall opened up, seemingly on its own, allowing the woman to pass through it. Soon, Mark had followed, being lead into another empty classroom, and he almost felt himself shudder at the sound of the door closing behind him.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Alfred Hill." the woman said in an unnaturally-passionate tone of voice, "I've been hoping that you'd arrive soon. You see, my name is Lisa, and I need you to help me with something very important."