Another Place in Time
Copyright© 2025 by Sage Mullins
Chapter 16
Science Fiction Story: Chapter 16 - A story involving travel through time to a post-apocalyptic future. Abby, a young woman of 25 who is stuck in a rut in her personal and professional life, gets sent from the present to a future world where the Earth's population has been decimated by a mysterious entity with evil intentions. She is surprised to discover that this world holds unexpected opportunities for personal growth.
Caution: This Science Fiction Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Romantic Fiction Post Apocalypse Time Travel Slow Violence
Hannah, ahead of the others in the line, caught the fierce expression on Abby’s face. She met her gaze with a look that informed her, Just sit tight - I have an idea.
Soon, it was Hannah’s turn to descend the ladder into the submarine. The security guard, realizing that she was not a Virginia resident, nonetheless saw the orange hat on Hannah’s head. She gave a simple nod, granting Hannah admission. That’s when Hannah made her move. In one deft motion, she removed the hat from her head, and without even turning around, tossed it casually behind her back. It hit Abby, a good five meters behind her, square in the chest. In an instant, the hat was positioned firmly on Jimmy’s head. They’d pulled it off, with the security people none the wiser.
Just then, another round of gunfire could be heard. Apparently, another small and desperate band of folks – this time actual Virginia residents who’d been excluded from the submarine group – had attempted to gain unauthorized admission to the submarine, and had been dealt with.
Abby and the others exchanged nervous glances. The wind coming off the river was sharp. The water reflected nothing but the lights - no hint of the daylight that should have been there. The dock lamps cast small halos of light, glinting off the exterior of the submarine moored to the pier. It crouched low in the water, its hull a seamless sweep of obsidian plating that seemed to absorb the lamplight. Blue bioluminescent tracking lines pulsed faintly along its length, running toward the sail where a row of narrow, vertical windows gleamed. The sail itself was short and curved, more like a dorsal fin than the tower Abby had expected. This was not a relic - it was a machine that was decades ahead of the tech she remembered from 2023.
Near the open hatch, the captain - tall, broad-shouldered, with weathered skin - waited to usher them aboard. His voice was clipped but calm.
“Delmarva team ... you’ll be the last of the sixty to board. Please wait for the others to be secured.”
He counted out six people with orange hats, including Jimmy, but minus Hannah who was already on board. Abby still couldn’t believe that little ruse had actually worked. Meanwhile, Jimmy was still chattering on, asking about his father. It was becoming increasingly obvious that Jimmy would have to be told the truth before too long.
“Move with purpose,” the captain called out. “We’re under the wire.”
Abby’s boots clanged on the steel ramp. She felt the vibration of the sub’s active systems even before she stepped through the hatch - a low, resonant thrum that seemed to settle into her bones. Mimosa went ahead, ducking into the narrow opening, her hand on the ladder rail. Taff was next. Noah followed, then Essence, then Jimmy, and finally Abby, who paused long enough to glance back toward the dark shoreline before climbing down the ladder.
One by one, they entered the control room. The air inside was cool, filtered, and faintly metallic. The interior was compact but gleamed with polished composite panels, touchscreen displays, and retractable seating that folded flush into the walls. Overhead, soft white lighting mingled with strips of dim blue emergency glow, easy on the eyes in the event of long dives. Finally, with all sixty passengers situated (actually sixty-one, thanks to Jimmy), the hatch sealed above with a hiss, followed by the locking spin of an automated wheel.
For now, the curious-by-nature Jimmy seemed fascinated by his surroundings. He’d temporarily stopped asking about his father. Abby had been concerned that they might do a head count, but thankfully, that had not come to pass. She’d also noticed that there were a few more children on board – a good thing, since it ensured that Jimmy would not stand out.
Abby found herself peering into the command compartment - compact, but designed with impossible efficiency. Navigation stations were built into recessed alcoves, their interfaces projected directly into the air, glowing with translucent blues and greens. The captain sat in a shock-mounted chair that pivoted with a subtle gyroscopic counterbalance, giving the impression of stillness even when the deck shifted. To one side rose the periscope - not a tube, but a vertical glass column threaded with holographic fiber, displaying a seamless panoramic image of the surface. The image was so real Abby had to remind herself it was a feed.
It was that same paradox once again. Advanced technology in a primitive post-apocalyptic environment, Abby told herself.
“Time to submerge?” Noah asked, gripping a ceiling rail as the floor trembled beneath them. He’d already begun to strike up a conversation with the captain.
“Approximately ten minutes to spare,” the captain said, sliding into the command seat. “Secure stations, everyone.” A forward monitor came alive, displaying a live atmospheric scan - at the top edge of the screen, the black void swelled, still advancing like an incoming tide.
The submarine eased away from the pier with barely a ripple, its electric propulsion humming. Abby took a seat near a side console, watching the periscope intently. She could still see the streetlights flickering dimly. Somewhere in the shadows, crowds of people still moved toward whatever shelter they could find. For those not on the submarine, it was a hopeless cause. Their survival came down to probability at this point, nothing more.
The captain’s voice broke the stillness. “Submerging.”
A soft chime sounded. The deck tilted gently as the sub’s ballast tanks filled, water rushing in. Outside, pale light dissolved into murk, then total darkness. The hum of filtration systems deepened.
All on board were now – at least in theory – safe.
They settled in for the wait. Now, to Abby’s chagrin, Jimmy became very impatient and insistent.
“Please tell me where my dad is,” he begged her, near tears.
It was Noah who rode to the rescue. “Come here, Jimmy,” he said. “I’ll introduce you to the captain, and maybe he can show you how he operates this thing.”
Jimmy gave a half-hearted shrug, but tagged along behind Noah. This allowed the others to convene to discuss the Jimmy problem.
“We have to tell him about his father,” Abby said. “That’s on us – on me, specifically. I was the one who brought him into this.”
“You were doing as you thought best, Abby,” Taff said. “I’d have done the same.”
“Me, too,” said Mimosa.
“Jimmy’s a smart kid,” Hannah offered. “Plus, he adores you, Abby. I think he’ll understand.”
Essence weighed in. “There are no rules on how to handle these situations. We have to do as we think best – on the fly. You’ve handled it perfectly. And we all can tell him about his father – as a group. He knows all of us. That might make it easier on all fronts.”
“I think we should wait until we’re back on firm ground before we tell him,” Taff noted.
“I agree,” said Essence. “I took a good visual look at the four of them ... Laird, Orval, Clair, and the other man. I’m sure they’re all no longer among the living, but we’ll want to have some kind of official declaration before we tell Jimmy.”
“I wonder what exactly was going through Laird’s mind,” said Abby, “when he got mixed up in all of this. Whatever it was they were doing.”
“That’s a question for another time,” said Essence, “although it’s a good question nonetheless.”
“Even so,” Abby went on, her eyes moist, “I want to cry. I want to grieve. But you know what?”
The others looked on with curious expressions.
“I need to save some of these tears for later today.”
They all sat in silence, as those words hung in the air. The minutes stretched, marked only by the captain’s occasional updates and the faint ping of sonar. Abby tried not to picture what was happening on the surface - people gasping, collapsing - forcing herself to focus on the steady, controlled rhythm of the boat. The sound was different underwater - less sharp, more like a constant pressure all around them. Every so often the sonar ping rippled through the hull, followed by a low whump as something shifted outside - water pressure, Abby guessed.
It didn’t feel like an hour. It felt longer. Essence remained firmly at her side. Abby caught Hannah staring at the sealed hatch as if willing it to open, and Mimosa sitting rigidly, hands clasped so tightly her knuckles whitened. Noah remained near the captain’s station, monitoring the holographic readout of atmospheric composition: red across the board, until – finally - slowly, the bars began to fade toward yellow.
The captain kept the periscope on the surface, waiting. The void above began to shrink at its edges, hints of twilight beginning to reappear.
A crackle came over the com: “Norfolk Base ... all clear. Repeat, all clear.”
No one spoke. The ascent was near-silent except for the faint creak of hull plates adjusting to changing pressure. Then came the shimmer of light through the periscope, growing brighter until they broke the surface.
They docked in silence. The hatch wheel spun, the heavy metal lid opening to a rush of cool, clean air. Abby climbed first, the sudden brightness making her squint. And there it was – the black void in the sky, but now smaller once again, retreating. The sun had returned. The base looked almost unchanged - empty walkways, the river lapping quietly at the pier - but the stillness felt heavier now, more final.
One by one, they stepped onto the dock. The sixty-one people who had been aboard exchanged brief, relieved glances. But no one smiled. Here in Virginia and beyond, the rest of humanity had faced the cloud without a submarine to hide in.
Noah looked toward the settlement, jaw tight. “We made it,” he said quietly.
Essence’s reply was barely above a whisper. “But how many others did?”
The wind stirred, cool against Abby’s face, but carried no sound - no footsteps, no distant engines. There was only the quiet of survival, and the ache of not knowing who else had made it. But now, before they could assess the aftermath of the just-concluded Fourth Incident, they had a most unpleasant task to attend to. Noah pulled all of the adults in attendance into a tight circle.
“The captain confirmed to me,” he said to the group, “that Laird and the others did not survive.”
“Jimmy, come here,” said Abby, not wanting to put it off any longer.
Suddenly, the sound of another rapidly approaching child, wailing in distress, caught their attention.
“Lavender!” shouted Jimmy, perking up suddenly. “Lavender! What happened?”
“It’s my mom!” Lavender shrieked as she burst into their presence. “She’s ... gone!”
“One of the worst parts of all this,” Essence said to Abby, who was snuggled up next to her in the rear of the airplane, “is the orphaned children, and what to do with them afterwards.” Two such orphaned children, Jimmy and Lavender, were seated next to them, both fast asleep, both overwhelmed by grief and outright denial, as might be expected of ten-year-olds in a terrible situation such as this. Noah was piloting the Delmarva-bound aircraft, returning back to their home. The other adults on hand – Hannah, Taff, Mimosa – had also nodded off for a few minutes, giving their overloaded minds a rest before what promised to be a heart-rending scene once they landed.
Once Lavender had gotten her story out, they’d informed Jimmy about his father, as a group. He’d been hysterical, as they’d expected. Even when they boarded the plane, he still hadn’t begun to process, let alone accept, his father’s passing – he kept right on asking where he was.
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