Chapter 3
A piercing sound that reverberated throughout the room jolted him awake. "What is it?" he said aloud, his heart beating quickly. His bedroom was dark, save for the nighttime scene of a moonlit beach displayed on the wall across from him.
"I apologize for the rude awakening, Dr. Beckett," Ziggy said from a speaker above him, "but you're needed urgently in the Imaging Chamber. Dr. Fuller has just been arrested and taken to the Lake Placid Police Department."
"What?" Sam said as he sat up. The lights turned on to a dim setting, allowing him to find the clothes he had thrown onto the floor a few hours earlier.
"How long have I been asleep?" he asked.
"Three hours and seventeen minutes," Ziggy replied.
"How could she have gotten arrested in just three hours?"
"I believe that question will be answered when you see Dr. Fuller." Ziggy said smoothly.
"I'm on my way."
. . .
The Imaging Chamber was dark when he entered. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim lighting, provided from a sliver of moonlight through the nearest window.
"Sammy Jo?" Sam asked, searching the room.
"Dr. Beckett?" a voice spoke to his left. He walked in the direction until he was just outside a holding cell. Metal bars enclosed Sammy Jo inside. She sat alone on the concrete floor with her arms hugging her knees.
"Call me Sam," he said, carefully stepping through the metal bars into the cell. "Are you okay? What happened?"
"I tried to call Sophia's sister with a phone at the convenience store," she said, looking up at him. "The cashier said it would be okay but the owner came up front and freaked out, thought I was trying to steal from him. He called the cops and they picked me up. They're holding me here until morning."
"I'm sorry," said Sam.
"I think I really screwed this up."
"We'll think of something else," Sam replied.
Sammy Jo shifted her position on the floor. "I know there's nothing we can do right now, but could you maybe…stay for a while?"
"Of course," said Sam, feeling the burden of her loneliness in her words. He took a seat next to her, his back leaning against the wall of the Imaging Chamber. He remembered countless leaps when Al could sense he needed to be with someone and stayed for hours to keep him company.
"Can I ask you something?" he said after a moment of silence.
"Sure."
"How did you end up at the project?"
She thought for a moment. "It was luck, actually. I was working for a tech company in Los Angeles, and we had this big presentation for the military. The senior lead called in sick at the last minute so I had to give the presentation. Al walked in with a whole entourage, all in their Navy uniforms and very intimidating." Sammy Jo smiled to herself. "I was so nervous. We introduced ourselves and when I shook Al's hand…it was like he recognized me or knew me somehow. It was impossible, of course, because we had never met before, but it felt weird. Spooky. I gave the presentation and he offered me a job on the spot. I had no idea what Project Quantum Leap was or what I was getting myself into. He put me on the retrieval team right away."
"Your work on the retrieval program brought me home," said Sam. "I never thanked you properly for that."
Sammy Jo shook her head. "I don't know about that. I think God or whoever is controlling my leaps had a much larger part in bringing you home. If it had worked as we intended, it should've been able to bring me home as well. I was so stupid, jumping into the Accelerator without being a hundred percent sure the program would work again."
"Sammy Jo, why did you leap?"
She looked at him as if searching for the answer herself. "I leaped…to see my dad again. My parents were never married. My dad moved away when I was young and I never got to really know him. He died in an accident when I was sixteen. I wanted to see him again and maybe..."
"Maybe prevent his death," Sam finished for her.
Sammy Jo nodded. "Like I said, I was stupid to think I'd be in any kind of control. I thought the retrieval program would be my backup. I had a good life and I've completely messed it up."
"You're doing great things for the people you're helping."
"That's the only thing that's keeping me going," said Sammy Jo. "Well, that and Al. I can't imagine doing this alone."
Sam studied Sammy Jo's worried expression. He knew exactly how she felt, being so far from the world and time she belonged in, with only one lifeline connecting her home.
"You won't say anything about what's going on with him, but I know something's wrong," said Sammy Jo. "Just tell me one thing, truthfully. Is he going to be okay?"
Sam considered her words. "I hope so, Sammy Jo. I really do."
. . .
He was exhausted, physically and emotionally. His feet dragged heavily behind him as he exited the Control Room. Sammy Jo had finally fallen asleep and there was nothing to do until morning. He entered the elevator and watched the doors close in front of him, his mind a million miles away.
After several seconds, a female voice sounded above him. "Which floor please?"
Sam turned upward to see a round speaker on the ceiling. His stomach growled. The last thing he ate must've been on the airplane…yesterday?
"Cafeteria," he said on impulse. The elevator whirred and began to ascend.
On arrival, the cafeteria appeared closed, with all the lights dimmed inside the glass walls. To Sam's surprise, the automatic doors opened as he neared.
"Hello?" he said cautiously, feeling somewhat of an intruder.
He stepped further into the large room and the lighting above him increased in intensity, using the same motion detection technology that controlled his living quarters.
"Hello!" a voice called from behind the swinging doors that led into the kitchen. A portly woman of about fifty, wearing an apron, backed out of the kitchen. Her hands were covered in flour and held away from her body. She reminded him of a surgeon scrubbing in for a procedure.
"Sorry, I wasn't expecting anyone at this hour," the woman said. "I'm making pie crusts for tomorrow." A light trail glowed above her as she walked towards him. When she was close enough, the lights above collided and illuminated a larger circle around them. She squinted at him for a moment before stepping back in alarm.
"¡Dios mío! Is that you, Dr. Beckett? It's me, Linda. You remember me?"
Sam stared at the woman before him, with no memory coming to his rescue.
"You wait right there. Sit down. Don't move," she said, already making her way back to the kitchen. "You hungry? Of course you are," she replied, before Sam could say anything. "I'll be right back."
Following orders, Sam took a seat at the nearest table. A few minutes passed, and Linda returned with a tray of what Sam could only describe as the best food he had ever smelled. His stomach growled loud enough for both of them to hear.
"Hot chocolate and churros," Linda said with a smile. "My late night specialty."
Sam, already mid-bite into his first churro, nodded his head in thanks. He wolfed down the first one and was on the last bites of his second before Linda reminded him to try the hot chocolate. A sip from the mug and he was in heaven. Warm, creamy, and a taste of comfort, a momentary escape from his worries.
"The secret is to use the heavy cream. Plus un poquito más chocolate than you think you need," she said with a wink.
Sam laughed at her words. "You know, that's exactly what my wife Audrey says about the amount of sugar that goes into her lemonade. Just a little bit more than what you think you need."
"I like her already," Linda replied.
Sam studied her face for a moment longer, but was unable to remember her from the past. "I'm sorry, Linda, but I don't remember you. My memory…there are holes that sometimes get better over time but sometimes never do."
"I forgive you Dr. Beckett," said Linda. "I'm in charge of the food for the whole project. Ordering, supervising the cooks, service as well. I was here when the project first started. I fed a dozen people then and now I feed hundreds. Well, with the help of many others. It is crazy to think about, no?"
Sam smiled at her words. "I didn't know that. A lot of people that were here before are gone. I'm glad you're still here."
"Sí," Linda replied, staring at him. "And you are back. To help the Admiral, yes?"
Sam hesitated. "Yes, in a way."
"He is a good man," said Linda. "He gave me this job when I had three small children to feed. Now my oldest son is graduated college and works in Research and Development, and my brother is in charge of the farming…" she clicked her fingers a few times… "Cómo se dice farming sin suelo?"
Sam thought for a moment. "Hydroponic farming?"
"Sí," Linda replied. "He gives me corn and I make all of our tortillas by hand. I cook like I'm feeding my own family because I really am," Linda laughed. "I see my brother and my son every day, and it is all because of what the Admiral has done for us."
Sam sat in an uncomfortable silence. His last memories of Al were vastly different from what Linda was describing to him.
"Everyone in this building eats in my cafeteria so I know everything that's going on," Linda continued. "You are the talk of the day, Dr. Beckett, but I see Miss Emilie today and she is so sad. I make her favorite food and she doesn't eat anything. I ask her what is wrong, and she can't say. I am worried about the Admiral. He is okay?"
Sam fidgeted again in his seat. "I'm not sure I know more than her, Linda. I'm sorry. I truly am."
Linda placed her hand on his arm. "It's okay. I understand some things are classified. You're a good man too, Dr. Beckett. The Admiral always speaks nicely of you when he comes and drinks my hot chocolate. You're both very much alike; you don't like to sleep too much."
Sam smiled again.
"You finish your drink and I'll be right back," said Linda.
He enjoyed the last of the best cup of hot chocolate he'd ever had and sighed in contentment. Linda reappeared from the kitchen with a bag filled to the brim with containers of food.
"This is for the Admiral," she said, handing him the bag. "You tell him Linda says hi, okay?"
"I…" Sam began, but didn't know how to finish. Linda pulled him in for a hug and smiled at him. "Good to see you back, Dr. Beckett."
. . .
He found himself again outside the doors of the elevator, with Linda's care package still in his hands. The delicious aroma of Mexican food filled the space around him. Al's favorite.
Sam broke his indecisive stance and finally entered the elevator. "Medical wing," he said, this time without prompt.
"Admiral Calavicci's room is at the end of the hallway to your left," Ziggy said in his ear as he stepped off onto the main floor of the medical wing. "His vitals have been stable for some time and he appears to be sleeping."
Sam entered the room quietly. As Ziggy predicted, Al was asleep in the hospital bed. He edged closer to the bed and looked down at the person who used to be his best friend. Al's face was illuminated by a single dim lamp on the stand next to the bed, appearing tired and drained.
Sam sat down in the visitor's chair. His brain told him to feel one way but his heart tugged in the other direction. On the same day he leaped back to the project, he learned that Donna had been sick for more than a year and died just three days before. Al had been hiding the information from him the entire time. Al, who could have brought Donna into the Imaging Chamber, or at least told him about his dying wife, had nothing to say. "I didn't want to burden you," were his only words. Sam was three days too late. He never got to say goodbye. She never knew if he remembered her.
But looking at Al now, Sam also realized just how much the man before him had sacrificed for the project, looked after Sammy Jo in his absence, and respected his wish to be left alone until the last possible moment.
Al caught his breath in his sleep and stirred, turning his head away from the lamp. With his eyes still closed, his lips tilted up into a tired grin.
"Nice try Em, but I don't think I can hold anything down right now, not even Linda's cooking."
Sam cleared his throat. Al turned back towards the sound of his voice, this time opening his eyes.
"Sam," he said in surprise, his voice a little hoarse.
"Hi," he replied, at a loss for words. Then, after a few moments, "How are you feeling?"
Al ran his free hand down his face. The other one was attached to an IV. "I think your face says it all. I look pretty bad, huh?"
Sam sighed. "You had a recent dose of chemo?"
"First dose was yesterday. Doc's mad at me for 'starting too late, against professional advice.'"
"Ledger?" Sam asked.
"Him and Beeks. Did you meet him?"
"I'm afraid I didn't make a good first impression."
"He's a good guy," said Al, struggling to sit up in bed. "He'll come around."
Sam moved to adjust the pillow behind his back, noting up close the exhaustion on Al's face.
"I should go. You need rest."
"I'm fine," Al replied with a wave of his hand. "How's Sammy Jo doing? What's going on with the leap?"
"To be honest, it's not going so well," said Sam. "We're still trying to find a way to unite Sophia and her family. And Sammy Jo, she's worried about you."
"Did you tell her this is only temporary?"
Sam nodded. "But how much would you believe me if you were in her shoes?"
"I'll go into the Imaging Chamber with you next time, so she can see I'm okay."
Sam raised his eyebrows but remained silent.
"Trust me," said Al, motioning to himself. "One more day and I'll be good as new."