Chapter One -- March 13, 1970 – 11:30 p.m.
Sam Beckett gave the petite green-eyed blonde woman in front of him a slightly bewildered look and reluctantly, he walked back onto the balcony. He strolled as casually as possible, under the circumstances, over to the ship's wheel and looked out toward the bay. If nothing else, maybe he could get a better look at the area he had leaped into this time! He could hear the sounds of the ocean — the crashing of the waves on the rocks on the beach, he judged, about half a mile away from the front of the house, and he heard the cry of the gulls, and smelled the salt in the air. He heard the woman close and latch the French doors behind him and realized he was now stranded on the balcony for the night.
"Al? . . . Al? . . . Are you there?" he asked hesitantly, and looked around.
No answer.
Well . . . he thought. Not an unexpected turn of events! San's holographic partner and friend, Admiral Albert Calavicci, lead an extremely interesting personal life of his own . . . and as best as he could remember, This wasn't the first time that Al hadn't been there to meet him at the beginning of a 'leap,' But one can always hope!
Sam looked around the balcony again, and tried to assess his situation. The night was warm, thank goodness, and unlike many of his previous leaps, he was not in any immediate danger . . . that, in itself is an improvement! His thoughts continued.
He looked out in front of him and to the grounds below. It was an average-sized front yard. There was a stone gate with a couple of crooked gateposts in front, bordering the road and a bumpy flagstone walkway leading from the road to the front porch which was flanked by two huge stone lions. A well-tended flowerbed was also in the yard, along with a particularly ugly-looking tree. Two cars were parked in front of the house — one obviously a rental car and the other a tired-looking, circa 1965 station wagon. His eyes wandered back to the yard again. There were some miscellaneous children's toys in the front yard, two older-looking bikes, a pre-fiberglass model skateboard, a baseball bat, catcher's mitt and a hula-hoop.
Hmm . . . Hula-hoops — they came out, for first time in the late 1950's I think . . . that's a hint anyway . . . and that car is NOT new . . . but it's not as old as the '50's either . . . With that fake wood on the side . . . I gotta be in the late 60's or early 70's – wonder what year is on the license plate? Now that would really be a clue! Now if I could climb down from this balcony without waking up the entire household . . . maybe use the trellis? I really wish I were down by that car . . . In the blink of an eye, Sam found himself transported down beside the station wagon. He closed his eyes and opened them slowly . . . No . . . He blinked his eyes again . . . Still here . . . What the hell? Sam peered at the license plate on the station wagon. 1971, he noted, that's a start anyway – but is that the year it is now, or the year the plates expire? And how on God's green earth did I end up here by the car anyway? he wondered.
"Albert!" he hissed, and looked around again, "Al Calavicci! I sure wish you would show up! Where the heck are you?" There was still no answer from his friend.
Sam paced in front of the car for a few moments, and then somewhat reluctantly pulled on the car door handle. Maybe, if he was lucky, the car door would be unlocked and he could check the glove compartment for a name on the car registration. To his relief, the car door opened. Locating the car registration in the glove compartment, he checked the name. Carolyn Muir . . . Hmm, doesn't show a Mr. Muir . . . that's promising! One less person to deal with! Sam began to investigate the rest of the car. In the back seat he found what were obviously schoolbooks. The name on one of the books read 'Jonathan Muir,' and in the inside of one of the school notebooks, there was a graded homework assignment dated March 12, 1970.
. . . That means there's a son, he thought, tucking the paper back into the notebook, and putting the books back where he found them, and it's sometime around March 12, 1970. Then, without thinking, Sam 'moved himself' to the 'way-back' section of the station wagon. Sam looked around, realizing what he had done.
I just did it again! What on earth . . . sighing, he looked around in the back area and found a volleyball. Written on the ball in magic-marker was 'Candy Muir.' Okay, so there's a son AND a daughter, he thought. As he turned to climb out of the car, he also noticed a rubber bone peeking out from under the front seat. "Damn!" he said out loud. "A dog! I hate animals in a leap! Animals don't 'see' the person I've leaped to. They see me! And they never like me! Dogs are the worst! Once, just once, I'd like to see an animal like me during a leap! Oh well . . . at least I can be prepared for it this time!" Glancing toward the front seat of the car, Sam noticed the rearview mirror. Once more, he 'moved himself' to the front seat, behind the steering wheel. Did it again . . . he thought, as he looked in the mirror.
Reflecting from the mirror was an extremely handsome man . . . approximately 45-47 years of age. He had wavy reddish-brown hair, a moustache and full beard and piercing azure blue eyes. He was wearing a gray turtleneck and black jacket, but oddly, Sam did not feel warm, as one would expect to feel wearing a winter outfit in the warmth of a spring morning. He stared back at the reflection before him. 'Well,' he thought, 'Nice to see a good-looking face for a change . . . Leaping into women, even good looking ones, escaped convicts, bank robbers and chimpanzees gets a little old after a while!'
Experimenting, Sam 'thought himself' out of the car and back to the front yard with no trouble. Looking up, he noticed the widow's-walk on the roof of the two-story house. "So that's what she was talking about!" he said out loud. Concentrating, Sam 'willed' himself to the widow's-walk; hoping Al would find him before the night was over.