The Roanoke Roundabout

A knock on the door captures Dexter and Keon’s attention.

Two security guards flank the doorway on both sides.

“Name and Code clearance!” the taciturn-looking guard shouts.

“Jordan Leasure. Code 2241.”

The second guard opens the door. An enthusiastic-looking man with a tall frame and anvil-like face steps into the control room.

The first guard immediately scans him head-to-toe with a metal detector.

Dexter glances at his I.D. badge.

“What brings you here, Mr. Leasure?”

“I’m your new assistant.”

Dexter gives Keon a quizzical look.

“Sorry, Dex. It’s been such a busy morning that I didn’t have time to tell you.”

“I let you handle the human resources, Keon. That doesn't mean keeping me in the dark. I should have been told about this man coming on board a long time ago.”

“I wasn’t told he was approved until late last night, after you’d gone home. Think of it as a pleasant surprise. He can handle all our paperwork.”

A Croatan Native American with a sturdy build, dark, thick brows, and keen, deep-set eyes, forty-five-year-old Dexter Magruder is the director of the “Roanoke Roundabout” time portal. Broad-shouldered and beefy, with wavy black hair, his assistant, Keon Kendrickson, is secretly working on theories that will allow the living to use the time portal.

The portal is viewed as a sacred object by the Croatan nation. Hundreds of settlers, explorers, and Indian fighters who stumbled upon the swirling vortex during America’s colonial years were reportedly swallowed up by the portal, never to be seen again. The area was restricted in 1863 after dozens of Union and Confederate soldiers fighting in Roanoke disappeared. In 1955, Dr. I.C. Jipsum of the Tyme Research Corporation built a computer that could control the vortex he named the Roanoke Roundabout. He built a factory-sized building around it, shielding it in lead. Since then, hundreds of celebrities, politicians, and wealthy historical figures have paid Tyme Research Corporation millions of dollars to relive their lives.

“So, these people die, we put them in the portal, they come back to life, and they’re free to travel throughout their past,” Jordan says.

“That’s right,” Dexter replies. “Sounds like you were paying attention during training.”

“I’m surprised the Roundabout has remained a secret for over five hundred years. Do the subscribers try to alter their timelines?” Jordan asks.

“We’ve had a few. The penalty is an immediate cancellation of their subscription, which means they’re dead forever. Anyone who pays to use the Roanoke Roundabout can live their lives or any part of it over and over again,” Dexter elaborates. “Eventually, though, every subscriber has to face their death. It’s in their contract that after every fifteen time loops, they have to experience their death at least once.”

“Why?” Jordan asks.

“The Roundabout gives so much, I suppose it has a right to ask for something in return. We don’t get many complaints, but if you do, refer them to me. Listening to Yoko Ono complain about not being able to save John Lennon from being shot is more painful than hearing her sing, and Natalie Wood grousing about wanting swimming lessons has become a weekly nuisance. And remember, when Mary Todd Lincoln comes in, don’t ask her how the play went.”

Jordan follows Dexter and Keon across the white tiled floor. They stand at a picture window looking at a reinforced metal door.

“Behind that door is the Roanoke Roundabout,” Dexter says. “Over the centuries, technical advancements have allowed us to control where and when we send people. Our responsibility is to ensure that everyone who goes through that door is happy.”

An alarm sounds, and the red light above the steel door flashes.

“Someone’s coming back. I’ll greet them. Help Mr. Leasure get acquainted, Keon.”

Dexter and the security guards swiftly exit the control room.

Jordan sighs with relief. “For a second, I thought he’d notice my badge is a fake.”

“I took great care in making it,” Keon replies.

“So, what is it you want me to do again?”

“Help me get through that door to Maria.”

***

The Roundabout’s door opens. A thin man with blue eyes wearing a black fedora and carrying a tumbler of scotch in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other steps out.

“Did you have a nice time in Las Vegas, Mr. Sinatra?”

“A ring-a-ding-ding, baby! That Angie Dickinson can handle her booze as well as any of the rest of the Rat Pack. Sammy Davis was on fire on stage, and Joey Bishop had them in stitches. The only dud this time around was Dino. He snuck off by himself to watch TV, and I found out that he was drinking apple juice instead of booze during our stage act. Next time I go back, I’m gonna have a talk with Dino, you know, straighten him out. And next time I go back, I want another shot at Ava Gardner, okay, baby?”

“Are you sure that’s wise, Mr. Sinatra?” Dexter asks. “You said you two are like fire and water.”

Frank Sinatra smiles slyly. “I don’t mind getting burned, baby.”

***

Jordan enters the control room. Keon is sitting at a desk, poring over a folder of articles and notes.

“I actually like this job,” Jordan says. “I just sent Nelson Rockefeller through the Roundabout to hook up with his girlfriend. He slipped me a hundred bucks!”

Keon grunts.

“Speaking of girlfriends… Are you still mooning over Maria Romanov? If you had normal desires like everyone else, you wouldn’t have to go through such desperate measures for a little loving.”

“She’s the one, Jordan. My soulmate.”

“Soulmates tend to live in the same century…”

“Listen to this…Grand Duchess Maria Nikolaevna Romanov was the third child and daughter of Emperor Nicholas II and Empress Alexandra. Maria was a noted beauty. She had light brown hair and large blue eyes, the family called ‘Marie's saucers.’ A gentleman at the Imperial court said that Maria, ‘had the face of one of Botticelli's angels.’ Like her grandfather, Alexander III of Russia, Maria was unusually strong. She sometimes amused herself by demonstrating how she could lift her tutors off the ground...”

“If that’s what you want, I know a few female wrestlers…”

“Quiet, Jordan. You know how I know she’s the one for me? She had character and was brave. Listen to this account of her death... When the Romanov family was being murdered on July 17, 1918, one of the soldiers, Boris Ermakov, fired at Maria. His bullet struck her in the thigh. She fell to the floor, wounded. Ermakov tried to stab her with the bayonet on his rifle. The jewels the family had sewn into her clothes protected her. He said she fought him like a wildcat, eventually kicking the rifle from his grasp. She rose from the floor, coming at him. He finally shot her in the head. As the bodies of Maria and her family were being removed from the house, Maria regained consciousness. She screamed at Ermakov, wrapping her arms around his neck. Ermakov later said he closed his eyes as he emptied his sidearm into the Dutchess. You see why I love her? She’s fearless and invincible, as well as beautiful.”

“Yeah, and if you believe that account, she’s as bulletproof as Rasputin. I still say we’d be a lot richer and a lot safer if we took over the operation of this place.”

“My trip through the Roundabout isn’t about money or fame,” Keon says. “It's about love.”

***

The alarm goes off, and the red lights above the metal door of the Roundabout flash as it swings open.

President John F. Kennedy steps through the doorway.

“This is the part of the job I don’t like,” Dexter whispers to Jordan. “Disappointing someone I admire… Good day, Mr. President.”

“Er, ah, is it true I have to die during my next trip?” President Kennedy asks in his thick Boston accent.

“It’ll be your fifteenth time through this cycle. You know the rules.”

“Easy for you to say. You don’t know what it feels like to have your brains spread across your wife’s lap.”

“Thankfully, I don’t.”

“Er, ah, you know what’s almost as bad? Not knowing who pulled the trigger.”

“It’s 2026, Mr. President, and we still don’t know. We couldn’t tell you even if we did.”

President Kennedy sighs heavily. “I know, the timeline.”

“Right. We can’t have you rewriting history by saving yourself.”

President Kennedy shakes his head. “It’s a shame. I had such hope for this country. Look at the mess it is now.”

“You did what you could,” Dexter returns. “After you… Die again… We can transport you back to when you were in college, your days in the Navy, or maybe your wedding…”

“How long have we been doing this for?”

“Over sixty years,” Dexter answers meekly.

“You know what I want.”

“Yes, sir. After your assassination, we’ll transport you to Marilyn Monroe’s house.”

***

“You’re sure the guards aren’t around?” Jordan whispers.

“No one’s scheduled to come through the Roundabout tonight. I told them I’d mind the store. They’re out having dinner, and Dexter’s gone home for the night.”

Jordan leans over the gurney, watching Keon fade in and out of consciousness.

“What’s it feel like?”

“…Dying?... Blissful…”

“Really?”

“I just took enough painkillers to wipe out the 7th Calvary, so I feel great. Before you send me through the Roundabout, make sure I’m dead. We don’t know what could happen if I’m still alive when I go through the portal. I could wind up old, crippled, or permanently dead.”

“Maybe you’d turn into somebody else,” Jordan replies. “Then you might give up on this crazy obsession you have with Maria Romanov.”

“Don’t forget, when I die, make sure the controls are set for March 18, 1917.”

“I know, the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg. But what about me?”

“I’d cash the check I gave you and start looking for another job,” Keon says, closing his eyes.

Jordan retrieves a mirror, holding it up to Keon’s nose.

“Dead as a doornail,” he concludes.

Punching in a code to nullify the alarm system, Jordan pushes Keon into the Roundabout’s swirling maw, closing the door.

Moments later, Keon gasps, opening his eyes as the Roundabout’s cloudy tendrils surround him.

“I’m not dead!”

He shakes violently, his blood burning like a searing fire. He screams as his chest splits open and the misty essence of the Roundabout invades his body, sealing itself up inside of him.

***

Keon looks around at his opulent surroundings. The long, marble hallway is waxed to a bright sheen; elaborate chandeliers hang overhead; and portraits of distinguished nobility, suits of armor, tall Ming vases, and expensive sculptures crowd the walls.

“…I made it. I’m in the Tsar’s winter palace!”

A door at the end of the hallway opens. A group of well-dressed women in white approaches him.

In the midst of the entourage stands a striking, tall man with long hair and a long black beard, his deep-set, grayish-green eyes forming a penetrating stare.

As they approach, the man asks in a malevolent tone, “What are you looking at, boy?”

“Rasputin! You’re supposed to be dead. A group of men led by Prince Felix Yusopov murdered you last year!”

“You’re Yusopov. Sometimes I don’t understand your bizarre sense of humor, Felix.”

“Wait… You can understand what I’m saying?”

“You’re speaking Russian, aren’t you?”

“I guess so.”

Rasputin huffs. “And the peasants say I’m demented. You should lay off the opium, Felix.”

Tsar Nicholas II, Tsarina Alexandra, and their daughter Maria exit one of the rooms, moving toward them.

“I know we promised my Cousin, King George, we would attend the ceremony awarding Admiral Jellicoe the Grand Service Cross, but we’re at war, and I need to be on the front lines with our soldiers,” the Tsar says.

“Perhaps I should go in your place,” Alexandra replies.

“You may be the granddaughter of Queen Victoria, my love, but you’re still a German-born Empress, making you a sworn enemy of England in their eyes.”

Keon moves in front of the group of royals. “Pardon me, your majesty, I could not help but overhear your dilemma. I wish to be of service. Perhaps you should send your daughter, Maria, to England. I would be more than willing to accompany her.”

“Yes, Maria. George loves her gregarious nature,” Alexandra notes.

Tsar Nicholas gives Rasputin a side glance. The holy man slowly nods yes.

“A brilliant suggestion, Prince Yusopov. You and Maria will leave in two days.”

“Perhaps I could spend a few moments with Duchess Maria to discuss the trip,” Felix says.

“Very well,” Tsar Nicholas says as he and the Tsarina depart.

Rasputin stops, winking at Felix as he and his entourage follow.

Maria puts her hands on her hips. “All right, Felix, what’s going on?”

Keon clears his throat, trying to remember he is now Prince Felix Yusopov, a handsome, wealthy, eligible bachelor.

“In all honesty, Duchess, I’ve been hoping to spend some time alone with you.”

“Since when? You and your clique of spoiled aristocrats seem to cherish making fun of my family and me.”

Keon boldly takes hold of her hands. “That’s changed, Maria. I look at you now, and I see a beautiful, intelligent young woman. The type of woman I’d sacrifice my life for.”

“Indeed, you will, if my father finds out your intentions. If you want me, Felix, you must swear that you’ll cease your attempts to kill our friend, Rasputin.”

“I would kiss the holy man’s feet if you would favor me. Consider me a new man.”

“I am beginning to like the new Felix Yusopov. I’d like to get to know him better.”

***

Jordan is about to leave the control room when Dexter bursts in.

“I thought you went home for the evening, sir.”

“I got a call from Groucho Marx’s people. He’s out of cigars and wanted me to pick up a few for him.”

Dexter looks at the computer’s main console.

“Did someone come through the Roundabout?”

“No, no one. Must be some sort of malfunction.”

“Where’s Keon?” Dexter asks.

“He went home sick.”

“Without calling to tell me?”

“He was really sick.”

A buzzer on the main console pings, spitting out a line of paper.

Dexter reads the message.

“Out past history has been drastically altered. Maria Romanoff, one of Tsar Nicholas’ daughters, was saved from being executed with the rest of her family in 1918. She left the country in 1917 with Prince Felix Yusopov to visit England before her father abdicated, and her family was imprisoned. She and Yusopov were in England when the revolution began, and they were unable to return.”

A second tape spits out of the computer.

Dexter gasps as he reads the news. “The Bolsheviks, supported by England and led by Maria Romanov and her husband, Prince Felix Yusopov, overthrew the Communists. They ruled Russia for the next forty years.”

“That’s not so bad, is it?”

“No, but what is bad is that in 1941, in an attempt to gain more power, Prince Yusopov threatened to expose the Roanoke Roundabout project, demanding it be handed over to him. Instead of handing it over, the United States destroyed Roanoke Island.”

Jordan looks around. “But we’re on Roanoke Island…”

The walls of the control room dissolve. Dexter looks at Jordan, his vision blurring. He looks down at his hands, watching them disappear.