TITLE: The Saving Race
He wasn’t certain how it had happened. The car he was driving was an
ordinary unmarked Ford in the basic white, yet somehow it had
transformed into a time machine. He was reliving 1979.
When Nick had left the FBI Resident Agency in Coeur D’Alene,
everything had seemed commonplace. But somewhere along Idaho’s Highway
95, he had crossed through a time continuum. The three stops he had
made when he reached Sprague—the town that registered only as a
minuscule dot on the Idaho state map—had reaffirmed the probability of
The first stop was at his motel, or rather at the motel, as it was the
only one within a thirty-mile proximity. Made of rough, cracked logs,
the building was stained dark brown and contrasted with white trim.
Nick knew what the room looked like before he ever stepped foot across
the threshold; he pictured gold shaggy carpet, a gold marbled sink,
and hideous floral bedspreads. He was nearly right in his appraisal,
only that the carpet was shaggy brown instead of gold. He should have
known: brown hides the dirt better than gold.
Next, he stopped at a convenience store to grab a power bar and an
energy drink: the lunch of champions. Or rather, the lunch of a
frenzied FBI field agent. While this building itself wasn’t as dated
as the motel, it was the two cashiers that reminded Nick of his
departure from the modern world.