Windfall

A fortuitous breeze fanned Vincent’s shoulder-length hair as he sat down on a rock to rest. The hiking trail had guided him up the side of a long hill, and between the day’s sun and the incline he’d begun to sweat.

The young man unscrewed the cap of his recycled steel water bottle and leaned back against a broad oak, but then paused. He heard a rustling coming from above.

It sounded drier than the rubbing together of healthy summer leaves… more like a loose sheaf of paper being dropped on the ground. He twisted around and looked up, shielding his eyes with one forearm.

He saw nothing, other than the tree and the clear blue sky. But before the breeze faded, he heard the rustling again.

What is that?

Vincent stood and braced his shoulder against the stout trunk. He pushed with all of his might and managed to bend it a few inches. He sat back and wrapped his arms around the tree, reversing the force, and then repeated the task until the tree was shaking.

Thwwwump!

Something fell out. Even before he spotted it laying in the loam, Vincent knew it was a book. The pages had fluttered on the way down.

“What in the heck?” he crouched and shifted some leaves, unveiling his prize.

The little black moleskine book looked worn but well cared for. It wasn’t wet, and there’d been rainfall a few days earlier… so whoever placed it had done so recently. Vincent looked around, suddenly feeling conspicuous. He thumbed open the front cover.

The pages were blank. He’d only meant to check the front page to see if there was a name or phone number, but curiosity pulled him to leaf through.

His breath caught when his fingers finally landed on a page containing some words. It was written in flowing handwriting, in stanzas of four lines, as neat and precise as any printer.

Place your back against the peeling birch

And walk five steps due east

Then crouch and duck beneath the boughs

Of a weeping willow tree

Vincent’s eyes lifted from the book and lit on a nearby birch tree pockmarked by peeling bark. Beyond it - perhaps five steps - stood a weeping willow. He followed the book’s instructions, reading the next stanza as he crouched under the willow’s vine-like branches.

Find a mouse’s ravine and follow it true

To the lee on the other side of the tree

Don’t give up, stay on the course

Till you budge the boulder blocking your path

The young man frowned. He didn't know what lee meant, and a mouse’s ravine sounded like… something a cartoon character would talk about. A hot flash burst across the back of his neck, and Vincent looked around again. Was he being pranked?

Only the wind answered his silent question as it shook the leaves above him gently. Vincent gathered his breath and studied the ground.

A tiny crevasse - probably a rivulet from the recent rainwater - wound its way around the thick willow. He followed it, stepping carefully, until he nearly tripped over a large rock sitting up against the far side of the tree.

The boulder blocking my path…

He frowned again. He had to budge the boulder, and it looked like it weighed more than him.

“Here goes the dream,” he mumbled, and set his shoulder against the stone.

It rolled aside so easily he nearly fell on his face. The boulder had been balanced against a hollow in the base of the tree, and inside sat… a satchel. Hands shaking slightly with anticipation, he pulled the slender bag free.

It felt heavy - as though it might be full of more moleskine books.

Who keeps a bunch of books in the…

Vincent’s thoughts evaporated into smoke and drifted away as he pulled the bag open.

Cash filled every inch of the satchel.

The bills were messily stacked and bound with an assortment of rubber bands. Vincent swallowed the dryness in his throat and looked closer. They were all hundreds.

There must be twenty grand here, Vincent thought.

He made a decision. He pulled his backpack off and tucked the satchel inside, zipping the larger bag back up and shouldering it once more. His neck cracked as he checked his surroundings, and then he walked hurriedly back to the trail and resumed his hike.

Swoooooossshhh.

The sound was like heavy wind, but the tree branches overhead didn’t move. Vincent spun around, eyes searching back down the path and seeing… something.

It looked like a distortion in the air. Like a perpetual heat shimmer coming off blacktop in the height of summer. But the day was mild, and he was in the forest.

The sound got louder, and Vincent turned and dove behind a rotting log, certain that an explosion would be the next noise to reach his ears.

Nothing happened. The swooshing faded, and as the pounding of blood in his neck lessened, Vincent heard footsteps approaching.

“Are you alright friend?” a man’s voice called.

“What?” Vincent rolled over and looked up at a nondescript fellow in a tracksuit. “Where did you come from-- I mean, yes I’m fine. I just dropped my… my watch.” He clambered to his feet. “Got it,” he added, gesturing to his wrist.

“Oh,” the guy nodded, “that’s good. Hey, did you happen to see a little black book around here? I dropped it on my way through earlier.”

“A little… no!” Vincent gulped. If he dropped it, how did it get up in the tree?

“Oh, okay,” the guy paused, “are you sure? Because I don’t think anyone else has been through here recently…” he edged closer.

“Take it easy,” Vincent raised his hands, “I don’t want any trouble.”

“But why would you say that?” the other man asked, “unless… you have it, don’t you? You found the cache full of cash.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Vincent said, trying to believe it. His backpack suddenly seemed to weigh a hundred pounds. “Leave me alone, I’m going to--”

“I need it.”

Vincent paused. There was a certainty in the strange man’s voice.

“Need what? I don’t know what--”

“You found a satchel with twenty thousand dollars in it,” the guy said in a surprisingly calm voice, “but I need it. It was meant for me.”

Vincent raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Why didn’t he say “it’s mine”?

The guy took a deep breath and closed his eyes, briefly touching his forehead before nodding.

“Look, I’m not supposed to tell anyone this, ever. You won’t believe me, maybe ever. But if it’s the only way… I need the money.”

“What are you--”

“I’m a time traveler,” the man exclaimed.

The words hung in the air, too heavy to be moved by the tepid breeze.

“That rushing sound you heard was the portal closing behind me. Whenever I visit this place at this time, there’s a black book waiting for me in the crook of a tree. It’s always empty, but for one page… and on it are instructions to find the tools I requested. This time, I only requested twenty grand. And I need it.”

Vincent took a deep breath.

“Why?”

“If I told you that… I’m afraid it could have a disastrous effect. I’ll be honest; this tech is still new. We don’t know exactly how paradoxes work. Yet. So unless you want to be part of that case study… please give me the satchel.”

“Why are you--”

“I can’t tell you that. I can’t even tell you this. But if I don’t get that money and that book… let’s just say, you’ll live to regret it.”

Vincent peered at the man’s clothing. It seemed strange - slightly out of place. So did his hairstyle, and even the way he spoke. But he couldn’t really be a…

“What did it feel like?” Vincent asked.

“It’s like waking up from a dream,” the guy shrugged, “every time it’s a little different. And disorienting,” he added, “but you get used to that.”

“Alright,” Vincent said, and then, “alright,” again. He needed to convince himself.

A long moment passed, and then the hiker shrugged his backpack off and unzipped the main pocket. He opened the bag and offered it to the other man.

The time traveler took the satchel and the black book and smiled.

“Thanks, Vincent.”

“How did you know my name?”

The smile widened.

“I thought you looked familiar. Let’s just say this… you don’t need that money to live a great life. I’d bet my time machine on it.”