Another Place in Time
Copyright© 2025 by Sage Mullins
Chapter 19
Science Fiction Story: Chapter 19 - 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
The cafeteria was half full, as pale winter sunlight filtered weakly through the old, hazy windows - more suggestion than warmth. Abby sat across from Essence at a corner table, her half-eaten crab cake steaming faintly on the plate.
“I swear,” Abby said, grinning, “when I go back to my own time, I’m taking this recipe with me. Elena deserves a place in history - right between Einstein and the guy who invented ice cream.”
Essence chuckled, shaking her head. “She’d like that. She always said good food was civilization’s last defense.”
Abby’s smile faded a little at the mention of Elena. “Hard to believe she’s gone,” she said softly. “Feels wrong, sitting here eating her recipe without her around to complain that the seasoning’s off.”
Essence nodded, her expression quiet. “A lot of things feel wrong these days. But ... carrying them forward, even in small ways - that’s how we honor people like her.”
Abby poked absently at her food. “Guess so. Just hope she’d approve of me smuggling her crab cakes back to 2023.”
“That’s one smuggling operation I can endorse,” Essence said with a small smile – but Abby could detect a note of melancholy. She opted not to go down that road any further.
They ate in silence for a while, listening to the muted chatter around them. Finally, Abby leaned back, wiping her hands. “So. You’ve been buried in calls all morning. What’s the word?”
Essence’s face grew more focused. “They’re not wasting time. The team in Colombia’s preparing the airstrip now. You, Noah, and I will fly out tomorrow morning. I’ll oversee the handling of the catalyst once we arrive. Noah will make sure the delivery systems are configured properly for your aircraft.”
Abby’s heart gave a nervous kick. “Tomorrow. That soon?”
Essence nodded. “We can’t risk delays. The weather over the Andes is unpredictable, and if the readings Enrique’s people gathered are right, that enemy presence might not stay dormant for long.”
Abby stared down at her plate. The last bite of crab cake had gone cold. “So, I fly in, release the ammonia-catalyst mix, and get out fast.”
“That’s the plan,” Essence said. “Assuming everything works, it’ll neutralize the allergen inside the crater and destabilize whatever structure the aliens are using. Think of it as a small-scale test of what we’ll eventually do on Cronus.”
Abby frowned slightly. “A scale-up, right? Like a rehearsal for the big one.”
“Exactly,” Essence replied. “But this one’s crucial. If the reaction behaves as predicted in atmosphere, it’ll confirm the formulation is viable for the Cronus payload.” She took a sip of water, her tone turning gentle. “And more importantly, it removes an immediate threat, potentially saving many more lives.”
Abby nodded slowly. “No pressure, huh?”
Essence smiled faintly. “There’s always pressure. We just learn to breathe through it.”
Abby looked at her across the table with intense affection - calm, analytical, the same woman who had once risked her life in a sealed lab surrounded by vials of death. “I get it now,” Abby said quietly. “That day I questioned you, when you exposed yourself to the allergen. I thought it was reckless. But ... you did it because someone had to. Because if you didn’t, no one else could.”
Essence’s gaze softened. “And now you’re the one saying yes when you could say no.”
Abby gave a small, rueful laugh. “Guess the universe has a sense of irony.”
Essence tilted her head, studying her. “Do you regret agreeing?”
Abby took a long breath, considering. “I’m scared. Not gonna lie about that. But I don’t regret it. Not after everything. I’ve seen what happens when people turn away because it’s too dangerous. Someone has to step up. This time it’s me.”
Essence smiled faintly, pride flickering behind her eyes. “You’ve grown a lot since you arrived here, you know. You came from a world that still believed it was safe. You’ve seen what it means when it isn’t - and you’re still standing.”
Abby shrugged, half embarrassed. “Standing’s one thing. Flying over a killer volcano full of alien goo is another.”
Essence laughed - a brief, genuine sound that drew a glance from a nearby table. “That’s fair.”
Abby smirked. “Still ... if I don’t make it back, promise me something.”
Essence’s laughter faded. “Abby...”
“No, listen.” Abby leaned forward. “Promise me you’ll keep that recipe alive. Elena’s crab cakes. No matter what happens, someone’s gotta keep making them.”
Essence looked at her for a long time, then nodded slowly. “Okay then. I promise.”
Abby exhaled and smiled faintly, a mix of fear and quiet resolve in her eyes.
Essence reached across the table, resting her hand briefly over Abby’s. “You’re not alone in this. We’ll be with you every step of the way until you’re in the air. And when you are ... I’ll be waiting for your voice over the com, telling us it’s done.”
Abby nodded. “Then I’d better make it count.”
Outside, the wind picked up, rattling the cafeteria’s old windows. The sound was like the planet breathing - a reminder of how fragile, and how alive, the world still was.
Abby peered out the window as the aircraft slowed. The small transport plane touched down with a shudder and a roar of reverse thrusters, kicking up a cloud of dust that shimmered gold in the afternoon light. Beyond the airstrip stretched a rugged horizon - rolling foothills that gave way, far to the south, to the shadowed blue silhouettes of the Andes. The air was thinner, cooler, and carried the faint scent of rain on stone.
They’d arrived.
Their staging area was not in the coastal region of Cartagena, but further inland, fifteen hundred meters above sea level. The place felt remote, raw - half military, half improvised. The “airfield” was a long, cracked runway flanked by corrugated hangars and satellite dishes rigged from scavenged parts. A faded Colombian flag snapped in the breeze atop a nearby communications tower.
When the engines powered down, Essence unbuckled her harness, rubbing her hands together. “Welcome to the edge of the world,” she murmured.
Noah smiled faintly. “Smells like oil and ozone. My kind of place.”
They stepped out into the sunlight and stretched their legs. They’d flown all the way from Dover, with a stopover at Cape Canaveral where they switched aircraft. Waiting near one of the hangars was a woman in a worn flight suit, her hair pulled into a practical braid. Her stance was confident, but her eyes held fatigue - someone who had seen something she still couldn’t quite explain.
“You must be the team from Dover,” she called out, her accent warm but deliberate. “I’m Celia Vargas.”
They shook hands all around. Celia’s grip was firm, her expression open but serious. “We are honored to have you here,” she said to Abby, then glanced toward the mountains. “I wish it were under better circumstances.”
Essence nodded. “We’ll do what we came to do.” She turned to Abby and Noah. “I need to meet with Enrique and his people - they’re setting up the containment field for the catalyst prep. If all goes smoothly, we’ll have your payload loaded by sunset.”
Noah slung his pack over his shoulder. “I’ll be in the hangar getting the release system mounted. We’ll need to calibrate the dispersal unit for altitude and temperature.”
Celia hung back for a moment, allowing the three to talk privately before they went their separate ways.
Abby tried to introduce some lightheartedness. “So, Noah ... you’ll be in the hangar the whole time? Why do I have doubts about that?” She knew him all too well by now.
“Okay, you got me,” Noah said with a laugh. “I might have set up a date or two. I mean, might as well, while I’m here. Right?”
“A date? Or two? C’mon, fess up. How many women are we talking about?”
Noah came clean. “Three ... so far.”
“So far, ” giggled Abby. “The Father of Modern Civilization is about to spread his DNA onto the South American continent. Should I wish you good luck?”
Essence just rolled her eyes, smiled slightly and looked away.
“Someone’s gotta think about the genetic diversity issue ... wouldn’t you say?” Noah shot back with a sheepish look. “I’ve stepped up to handle that duty, and all that goes with it.”
“I’m sure you’re up to the task,” Abby cracked, “so to speak.” All three broke out in laughter.
At that point, Abby suddenly grew serious. She looked between them and delivered a sigh, as a moment of doubt came over her. “I guess I’ve also stepped up to handle a duty down here. I sure hope I’m up to it.”
Essence smiled faintly, though her eyes betrayed concern. “You’ll be fine. Just remember your training - and trust yourself.”
Noah nodded. “And remember, flying’s half instinct. The other half’s not panicking when instinct screws up.” He smiled, but it was forced.
Abby laughed softly. “That’s reassuring.”
Essence touched her shoulder briefly. “I’ll see you a little later.”
Then they turned and walked toward the low buildings at the far end of the strip, Essence’s lab coat catching the wind, Noah’s silhouette sturdy beside her. Abby watched until they disappeared inside, a pang of affection and fear tightening her chest.
“Come,” Celia said gently. “Let’s go inside. We’ll talk through what you need to know.”
The hangar was open on one side, revealing the aircraft - a sleek, twin-engine plane with reinforced wings and matte-gray plating. Its design looked part scavenged, part futuristic: older fuselage lines merged with new carbon composites, and the payload mount under its belly gleamed with fresh welds.
Celia handed Abby a binder thick with handwritten notes. “It’s not complicated once you understand her quirks. She handles like a heavier Falcon type, but remember, the air’s thinner up here. You’ll need to compensate - keep your climb rate shallow, maintain steady thrust. The stall margin’s narrow at this altitude.”
Abby flipped through the notes, nodding. “What about the weather?”
Celia grimaced. “It’s the rainy season. Storm cells form fast along the ridges. You’ll need to watch your radar and trust your gut. If you see lightning, divert immediately. The winds can shear without warning.”
She crossed her arms, looking Abby up and down. “You trained for this kind of flight?”
“Not exactly these conditions,” Abby admitted. “But I can handle turbulence. And I’ve been through the simulator for emergency descent.”
“Good,” Celia said. “Because if that thing in the crater reacts when you make your drop, you might need to descend fast. Just - don’t go straight down. The air currents near the crater are unpredictable. Go wide, use your momentum.”
Abby nodded, absorbing every word. Celia’s calm professionalism steadied her.
Celia hesitated, then added more softly, “When I saw that mountain, I thought I was staring into space. It wasn’t a shadow - it was nothingness. Like the world stopped existing inside that crater.”
Abby met her gaze. “And the detector picked up the allergen?”
“Yes. Strongest readings possible. Off the charts.”
Abby closed the binder, her resolve hardening. “Then I’ll finish what you started.”
Celia studied her for a moment, then smiled faintly. “You remind me of myself before that flight. Brave, a little nervous, trying not to show it.”
Abby grinned. “I’m showing it plenty.”
“Good,” Celia said. “Fear keeps you sharp. Just don’t let it drive.”
Outside, thunder rumbled far off toward the south, echoing across the foothills like a warning.
Abby glanced that way, her hand brushing the edge of the plane’s wing. “That’s where I’m headed tomorrow.”
Celia followed her gaze. “Yes,” she said softly. “Into the dark.”
Early next morning – very early - it was showtime.
The airstrip lay under a shroud of predawn mist, the kind that clung low to the ground and made everything seem suspended between worlds. A pale gray glow edged the eastern horizon, hinting at the coming sun. Floodlights washed the tarmac in thin cones of amber light, cutting through the fog to where the aircraft waited - its skin gleaming faintly with dew, the payload mount now complete beneath its fuselage.
Abby stood beside it, wrapped in a light flight jacket, her breath forming soft clouds in the cold. The morning was still - eerily so. Only the distant rumble of a generator and the rhythmic chirp of crickets broke the silence. She could feel the thinness of the air in her lungs already.
Noah knelt near the landing gear, tightening one final clamp on the payload housing. “All right,” he said, straightening up with a grunt. “That’s as solid as it’s going to get. The dispersal mechanism’s timed and primed. Once you release, the catalyst and ammonia will mix in a fraction of a second.”
Abby nodded, though she could feel her pulse thrumming in her ears. “And the detectors?”
He motioned to a small console mounted beside her pilot’s seat. “You’ll have readouts for all five - the four you drop, plus the one mounted to the plane’s underside. They’re color-coded. Blue for baseline, red for allergen detected, green for neutralized. Hopefully, you’ll see a lot of green at the end of the mission.”
He leaned closer, voice lowering. “Fly higher over the crater than Celia did. Maybe two hundred meters above her approach path. It might shield you from direct exposure, in case the allergen’s still active up there.”
Abby frowned. “Won’t that throw off the drop accuracy?”
“It’ll widen the spread a little,” Noah admitted. “But if the chain reaction works like Essence says it will, it won’t matter. You just need to get it close enough.”
He paused, looking her in the eye. “You understand the sequence? Circle once around the crater, drop the four detectors - north, east, south, west. Check the readings before you do anything else. Then one clean run across the middle, payload release, and straight out. No loops, no curiosity passes. Got it?”
Abby exhaled slowly. “Got it.”
“Good,” he said, though his voice softened. “You’re ready, Abby. You’ve trained for this. Don’t overthink. Just trust your hands.”
Essence approached from the hangar, her hair pulled back, her lab coat traded for a gray parka. She carried a small case, which she handed to Noah, then turned to Abby. Her expression was calm, but her eyes couldn’t hide her worry.
“Everything’s in order,” Essence said quietly. “We’ve tested the catalyst twice overnight. It’s stable. And the payload’s sealed - you won’t have to handle anything manually.”
Abby smiled faintly. “Good. One less thing to worry about.”
Essence nodded, then hesitated. “You know,” she said softly, “I don’t mean to belabor this point, but ... just the other day, we were sitting over coffee, talking about risk and sacrifice. And now here you are, about to do the same thing I did - only higher, faster, and a lot more terrifying.”
Abby looked at her for a long moment. “I had a good teacher,” she said.
Essence’s lips curved into the faintest smile. “Then make sure you come back so you can teach the next one.”
The two women exchanged a long, tender kiss - neither saying what both were thinking.
Noah climbed up onto the wing to check the cockpit seals one last time, then leaned over the open canopy. “You’ll have radio contact with us and the team in Cartagena until you’re out of range. Once you reach the Andes, you’ll be alone. Just remember - altitude first, then heading. And if you get any sign of turbulence, don’t fight it. Let the plane ride through.”
Abby climbed into the seat, the harness straps cool against her shoulders. Her hands moved over the controls automatically, running through pre-flight checks she could now do by feel.
Essence stepped back, wrapping her arms against the chill. “See you soon,” she said softly.
Abby looked down at her, then at Noah, and gave a small nod. “Damn right you will. Count on it.”
Noah backed away, signaling to the ground crew. The generator-powered lights flickered as the aircraft’s engines spun up with a rising whine. The twin turbines caught, and the low rumble filled the valley, scattering the last of the mist.
As the runway lights flashed past her canopy, Abby eased the throttle forward. The plane surged ahead, wheels hammering against the cracked concrete, and then - lift. The earth fell away beneath her.
Through the growing light, the Andes loomed faintly on the horizon, a line of shadows rising into the gray-blue dawn. Abby set her course south, her heart thudding steady now.
Her voice came softly over the radio: “Delmarva Base ... this is Pilot A. En route to coordinates. See you on the other side.”
Static crackled briefly, then Noah’s voice, warm but taut with emotion: “Copy that, Pilot A. Fly safe.”
Abby allowed herself a small smile. Then she angled the plane toward the far mountains and disappeared into the morning haze.
The flight had been long and quiet... too quiet.
Now, the high Andes rose before her like a wall of stone and cloud, jagged peaks catching the early light in fractured gold. Abby adjusted her oxygen mask and glanced down at the altimeter - eighteen thousand feet and climbing. The thin air pressed at her lungs despite the assist from the small rebreather unit Noah had insisted she wear.
The terrain ahead was raw and immense, with mountain after mountain rising like the bones of the Earth itself. Vast curtains of mist spilled down from unseen glaciers, dissolving into shadowed valleys. Every so often, she’d spot the dark line of a river, or the remnants of some long-abandoned road. But otherwise, the world below looked untouched, uninhabited - except for what she’d come to find.
Her fingers were steady on the control stick, but her heart was not. The silence in her headset made her feel weightless, untethered. She was far beyond the range of ground communication now. Beyond everything, really.
“Okay,” she murmured to herself, voice small in the cockpit. “You’ve got this. Just fly the plane.”
The detector mounted beneath the plane displayed a calm blue reading - baseline. No allergen detected. She’d been checking it every few minutes since crossing into Peruvian airspace. So far, nothing.
And then she saw it.
The extinct volcano came into view ahead - abrupt, isolated, and almost too perfect in shape. Its upper rim formed a flawless circle, snowless despite the surrounding peaks. Sunlight caught the edges, but the crater itself remained black. Not shadow-black... absolute black. It seemed to swallow light, a hole torn in the world.