Kevin and his class watched with anticipation as their sixth grade teacher struggled to unearth something in front of them. Giggles and shouts of encouragement rang out as he hunched over using garden tools in the soil. Slowly, he carved a space around a curved piece of metal sticking out of the lawn next to their school.

"Hurry up!" joked a young red haired boy next to Kevin, "we're gonna be the same age as the capsule by the time you're done."

"Ha-ha," Mr. Allen said, "very funny, perhaps you'd like to be the one getting their hands dirty?"

The smile flickered on the ginger kid's face and he fell silent, looking away sheepishly.

"Almost got it. Kevin would you hold the trowel?"

"Which one?" piped up Kevin, inching closer.

"Mini shovel," grinned Mr. Allen, "almost got it now."

Kevin nodded and took the trowel from Mr. Allen. A moment later his teacher was wrenching the time capsule from the soil, dirt clods fell softly to the grass as he held it up for everyone to see.

"Muahahaha!" Mr. Allen shouted, "I have done it! Who wants to go back in time?!"

His students all jumped around raising their hands, hoping to be among the first kids to see objects, tokens, and letters left from previous students a century before.

"First peek goes to the young man with the trowel," nodded Mr. Allen, "go ahead, pop it."

Kevin nodded, trading the trowel for the cylinder. The time capsule weighed more than twice as much as the little shovel. As he clenched the lid and tried to twist it free his teacher suddenly collapsed. Everyone looked up from Kevin, momentarily distracted to see a tall man standing over their fallen teacher. A rock fell from his hand, a tiny patch of blood on the edge where it had struck their teacher.

Everyone scattered, some screamed. The only person who remained frozen was Kevin. He couldn't move. His muscles were locked. He couldn't speak. The man stood facing him, his back to the midday sun. Mr. Allen moaned on the lawn. The capsule was heavy. The smell of recently watered grass was pleasant.

The man's face was half hidden by a baseball cap as he held out his hand expectantly. Kevin obeyed without hesitation or word. The man closed his hand over the capsule, the edge of a scar crept up his thumb and over the back of his hand. Kevin turned his head down to stare at his opposite hand. Same scar. Did it learning how to shuck oysters the previous year.

"Hope you're getting better with knives, kid," grinned the man as he popped open the capsule, "this stuff is mine, but I'll let ya keep this one little thing."

A folded piece of paper landed at Kevin's feet as the man turned and walked away.

"Don't worry about Mr. Allen," he called back, "dumb ass deserves worse than that."

Kevin scooped up the paper and unfolded it carefully.

"What's this a map of?!" Kevin shouted.

"That's your journey," he shrugged, never looking back, "you'll figure it out before college."