run the story. The headline was LORI, JUST GET ME SOME HELP. The rest of the front page above the
fold was the photo, taken by an on the ball freelancer. In the out of focus foreground on the left of the
picture was an unidentified paramedic pushing a stretcher into the back of a helicopter, most of the air-
craft being out of the frame. The center of the photo was Donna Parker, her breasts straining against
her blood smeared gray tee shirt, her flat abdomen clearly emphasized by the damp cloth clinging to her
skin. Her hands were open, frantic, covered with blood.
Her hair was wild, her mouth a wide oval. Her face was smeared with blood and streaked by tears. Her
eyes were blue puddles of liquid terror.
That was what the public would see of her as the medics placed the love of her life into the aircraft,
to take him away from her, probably forever.
"That might be true, but that's because somebody took him off the time machine. I've thought about it. You must be the one who took him off."
"I can assure you, Mister Rodino, that I have never even seen a time machine. I certainly didn't pull my father out of one."
"You did," he insisted. "But you haven't done it yet."
Donna sighed in exasperation. "Okay, if nobody has done it yet, what makes you think that I'm the one who is going to do it?"
"Because you're the only one besides me that knows that he was ever in the machine."
"But I only know because you just now told me."
A triumphant grin. "Precisely, young lady. And if you don't rescue him, he won't ever leave the machine. And if he doesn't leave the machine, all the time you spent with him will never happen."
Donna covered her face with her hand and shook her head.
"You think I'm a crazy old man," Rodino said sadly. "All this time I've waited and you don't believe me."
Donna locked her gaze onto his eyes. "Oh, I believe you, Mister Rodino. I know about the cabin."