The Time Traveler Who Took the Wrong Exit to the Sixties
Malcolm “Mack” Mercer burst out of a blue-white distortion shouting, “Far out, baby, the future has arrived,” struck a wet bedsheet at chest height, and carried three more sheets into a muddy drainage ditch behind the Wicket House boardinghouse. The future lay facedown beneath him, humming inside a silver case. Mack pushed a pillowcase off…