Chapter 3 - The Impossible Date
The yellowed piece of notebook paper lay on the hardwood floor of the dark bedroom like a fallen autumn leaf, mocking the laws of time and logic. Marcus stared down at it, his chest heaving as if he had just run a marathon. The date scrawled at the top in Emma’s neat, flowing cursive read clearly: November 14, 2028. Today was October 12, 2024. A four-year jump into a future that hadn't happened yet, penned by a fifteen-year-old girl who apparently wasn't even currently inside the house. Marcus knelt slowly, his knees popping in the quiet room, and picked the paper back up. He brought it closer to his eyes, desperate to find a joke, a smudge, a prank played with cheap ink. But the ink was permanent blue ballpoint, faded at the creases.
"This is a joke," Marcus muttered, his voice hollow and unconvincing even to his own ears. He looked up at Sarah, whose face was illuminated only by the streetlamp outside. "You wrote this. You and Maya. You're trying to mess with my head because I've been working late."
"Look at the bottom corner, Dad," Maya said, her tone devoid of its usual teenage sarcasm. There was only a heavy, crushing exhaustion in her voice.
Marcus tilted the paper toward the sliver of moonlight, his eyes scanning to the bottom right margin. There, pressed deep into the paper fibers, was a tiny, embossed seal. It was the official notary stamp of Riverside County. He recognized the serial number instantly; it was the exact stamp his late father had used for decades before his passing. A cold sweat broke out across Marcus’s forehead. His father had died in 2021, three years before this note was supposedly written. How could a dead man notarize a letter from the future?
"Explain this to me right now," Marcus demanded, rising to his feet and stepping menacingly close to his wife. "How did my dad's stamp get on a letter from four years in the future? Who is playing with my mind?"
Sarah didn't flinch. She stood her ground, looking up at him with eyes that held secrets far too heavy for a normal marriage. "Because your father didn't die when you think he did, Marcus. And Emma isn't missing. She’s trapped in the basement, and she has been since 2021."
The words hit Marcus like a physical blow, driving the air straight out of his lungs. He stumbled back against the pristine white closet door, his gray henley shirt damp with cold sweat. The basement? The basement was just a dusty concrete cellar used for storing old holiday decorations, canned goods, and his old toolboxes. It didn't have a bedroom. It didn't have heat.
"You're out of your mind," Marcus breathed, shaking his head violently. "We converted the basement into a storm shelter three years ago. There's nothing down there except junk."
May you like
"That's what we wanted you to believe," Sarah said softly, turning toward the door. "Follow me."
---
