by Louise Clark
Not everyone in their Beacon-Traveler family became one or the other. Up until a few hours ago Liz thought she was one of those destined to remain firmly fixed in her own time. The ability usually manifested in adolescence, when physical and emotional growth produced cataclysmic changes in the human body. Her sister, Faith, had become a Beacon in her early teens, during a dreadfully difficult time with their father, but Liz had sailed through her teen years without a lot of drama. She’d never become a Beacon and she certainly hadn’t traveled. She had resigned herself to being the odd duck in the family.
Until today, when a Beacon had drawn her to this rough prairie, an open, empty expanse of dark red earth marked with the dusty green of sage and other scrub plants.
When she’d seen the light she’d known instantly that someone was calling her through time. She assumed she would be stepping into the past, most likely into an early paleo dig, perhaps one that had taken place during the first few years of the twentieth century. Instead, she found herself in a closed room that looked like a paleo lab. That meant a building and a building meant the future.
The room was large, bright, and filled with gadgets, whose purpose she couldn’t even guess at. There were no windows, so she couldn’t tell what the area around the building now looked like. All she had to indicate when she was in time, was this room.
She took a step forward. Somewhere in this vast space there was a person, the Beacon who had called her here, but right now she was alone. She spied what she thought must be a computer located on a desk on the other side of the room. She headed toward it. The computer would have information that would tell her what year it was. It might also tell her the name of the organization that owned this research facility. Both were bits of information that she would really like to know and that her Beacon would never tell her.
She reached the desk and looked for the keyboard that would activate the glowing screen that appeared to be nothing more than a clear panel of glass. She couldn’t find it. It wasn’t in front of the screen, and couldn’t be tucked in a drawer, because the desk didn’t have any. Desperate, she lifted the few papers scattered on the desk surface, surreptitiously looking over her shoulder as she did it, just in case her Beacon reappeared and demanded to know what she was up to.
She found nothing. Frustrated, she put her hands on her hips and glared at the blank screen. There was no answer there, so she bent to inspect the paper documents more closely. Perhaps she’d find a clue that would tell her what her Beacon had been working on before he or she left the desk.
She realized that the top document was a scholarly article by a well-known paleontologist whose discoveries in the late twentieth century had proved that birds were closely related to the dinosaurs and changed many of the assumptions formerly believed about dinosaur physiology and behavior. Since she’d not only read the paper, but had used it as part of her thesis, she let out a frustrated sigh and straightened. Unless she could figure out how to work the machine, there was no help here.
She stepped back and looked around the room again. Whatever the year was in the future, paper hadn’t disappeared. Maybe there was a filing cabinet she could check. Beside the gleaming steel double pedestal desk was a cabinet. The closed double doors probably hid shelves and those shelves might very well hold paper files. She bent to grab one of the handles, then pulled—and discovered the doors were locked.
Resisting the urge to kick the sleek metal structure, she turned her attention to the equally sleek and shining lab tables. On one there was a plaster case that must surely contain a dinosaur bone, probably excavated in the area. She headed over to take a closer look. Maybe there would be documentation that would give her the clue she needed.
She had almost reached it when a male voice said, “Ah, you’re here.”
She jumped. She couldn’t help it, even though she knew her Beacon must be somewhere nearby. She swallowed hard, suddenly nervous. “You were expecting me?”
His eyes lit up and he laughed. “Grandma, I’ve heard about this day since I was old enough to be told I would be your Beacon.”
She stared at him. He was a tall man, with sharp, intelligent features and shaggy blond hair the color of her sister Faith’s. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt that did nothing to hide the muscles in his broad chest, which were evidence that he kept in shape or did work that required physical labor, like work on a dino dig. “I’m your grandmother?”
The amusement died out of his face, replaced by a deeper emotion. He nodded and said, “And it’s damned good to see you again.” He moved toward her as he spoke. “That’s all that has kept me going through the last couple of weeks.”
She frowned at him, but made no attempt to avoid the hug he so clearly wanted to give her. “I don’t understand,” she said, as he wrapped hid arms around her and pulled her close.
Perhaps he sensed her reluctance in the stiffness of her body. Or maybe he knew how this introduction had gone, because she’d already told him about it. Whatever the reason he gave her a final squeeze, then eased away. “Sorry about that. It’s just… I loved you a lot. We all loved you a lot…”
“We?”
“The family.”
She drew in a deep breath. “Okay, this is what I’ve got so far. I have suddenly—unexpectedly!—become a Traveler and I’ve come forward in time.”
He nodded.
She did a quick mental estimate of his age and guessed he was probably in his mid-thirties. If she was his grandmother, that meant she was at least eighty-five or ninety years old when she died, so she was now about sixty years into the future, since she was almost thirty herself. She shivered with excitement. What advances could have happened between this time and her own? Finding out would be fascinating.
And forbidden. A time traveler could inadvertently change the future if she gained knowledge of it and used it in her own time. Both Beacon and Traveler knew that a Traveler could only learn what was necessary and nothing more. “Am I allowed to know who your grandfather is?”
He shook his head. The amusement was back in his eyes.
Feeling like she was playing twenty questions, she said, “Okay. You mentioned that it was good to see me again, and that the past two weeks had been hard. What was that all about?”
He hesitated, obviously deciding what he could and couldn’t tell her. Finally he shook his head as he shrugged. “I guess it’s okay. I mean, I don’t think it changes anything.” He paused and a muscle jumped in his jaw. “You died two weeks ago. We were really close when I grew up. Watching you fail…” He shrugged. “Well, it was hard. You were always so active and full of energy.” His mouth quirked up in a half smile. “Seeing you as a young woman is amazing. The resemblance to my mom is so close, she’s going to freak out when she meets you.”
Liz didn’t have a daughter yet and had no idea when the girl would be born, but the idea of getting to know the adult version of her child was curiously enticing. “It will be exciting for me, too,” she said dryly, and the amusement leapt back into his eyes. He had a confident way about him, this grandson of hers. She wondered if that came from nature or nurture.
She turned back to look at the desk on the opposite side of the room. “Why don’t you tell me what you can?” She wrinkled her nose. “Like what your name is. Or would that give me a hint I’m not supposed to know?”
He smiled that quirky smile again and held out his hand. “I’m Mark.”
She smiled back and shook it. “And I’m Liz.” Before he could say anything, she held up her other hand and said, “Don’t tell me you’re going to call me Grandma. I may be your grandmother, but I don’t have any kids yet. I don’t think I could handle being a grandma at twenty-eight.”
He laughed. “I’ll call you Liz, but think of you as Grandma. How’s that?”
She made a face at him, but said, “It will have to do. So tell me, Mark. Why now?”
He knew exactly what she meant. “We’re late bloomers on your side of the family. We’v
e both just come into our powers.”
“You mean…” She stared at him aghast. She thought she was an aberration. “So you weren’t a Beacon before?”
He shook his head.
She considered him skeptically. “Maybe you were a Beacon, but you never had a Traveler around to visit you.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. All I know is that you are my first visitor, from either the past or the future.”
Odd to be considered the past when this was her future. Liz shrugged off the feeling and plowed on. “Can you tell me what year it is?”
He shook his head. “Not yet.”
“Not yet? But later you can? Why?
He hesitated again, carefully choosing his words as he had done earlier. “You have to deal with a few issues first. Once those are settled I can give you more information.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Very cryptic.”
“It’s meant to be,” he said, nodding.
She gestured at their surroundings. “Tell me about this facility.”
“It’s a state of the art paleontology museum and laboratory.”
“It wasn’t here when I left my time.”
His smile quirked to life again. “No, it wasn’t.”
“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to tell me?”
He nodded, the amusement in his eyes and on his face, deepening.
At her indignation, she supposed. She poked his chest. “Listen, bud. If I’m your grandmother, you’re supposed to respect me and do what I ask you to do.”
He raised his eyebrows and his eyes danced. “I do, and I am.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, suspiciously.
“When I was thirteen you told me what I could and couldn’t tell you at this meeting. I’m only doing what you made me promise I would do.”
She stared at him. “Well, hell. Looks like I’m too smart for my own good.”
Chapter 3
She stayed at the lab for another hour, but despite her interrogation, Mark refused to tell her any more of her life as he knew it. He managed to divert her attention for a time by giving her a guided tour of the lab and its high-tech tools. She was amused to discover that the screen she had assumed was triggered by a keyboard was actually voice activated. Beyond that detail, he wouldn’t give her specifics about how the other tools worked, of course. She’d probably told him not to.
As she walked through the light and back into her own time her heart pounded with the same frightened rhythm that it had when she first entered the beacon. What would she find? Would the present truly be the same as it had been when she left? What if it wasn’t?
Fortunately, nothing had changed. Back in her own time she found her truck was still some distance away, parked on the edge of the road. The prairie lay open and dusty. The sun, however, was almost down below the horizon. It bathed the sky in a glorious visual display of pinks, purples, reds, and oranges. Dark colors shot through lighter, indicating clouds, and trailing the glorious sunset those clouds were thick and black. Liz thought uneasily that the weather was about to turn nasty. Not only would they be missing her at the camp, but she didn’t want to be driving through the predicted thunderstorm.
She jogged to the truck. As she turned the key in the ignition she took one last look at the beacon, still shining brightly in the distance. Mark had told her that he was there most days and that she was welcome to visit any time. She wasn’t sure how she would be able to take him up on that, though, since she was leaving the area, probably forever. As she stared at the light, and thought how much she’d always wanted to be able to travel through time like her mother, who was both a Traveler and a Beacon, and Andrew Byrne, the eighteenth century gentleman who came through her sister Faith’s beacon for regular, weekly visits. She decided she would somehow sneak in one last visit before Dr. Scarr shipped her back to Boston on the morning plane two days from now.
With the sunset rapidly fading behind her and the black clouds blotting out what little light remained in the evening sky, she guided the truck along the decaying asphalt road. The surface hadn’t been renewed in years and she was sure she hit every pothole. As she bounced along, she began to worry about breaking an axle. That would be a disaster, since there was no cell service at the dig camp, so she wouldn’t be able to call for a rescue. She’d be stuck until someone found her.
The wind picked up, battering the truck. She clung to the wheel, a new concern gripping her. Now she worried that she might lose control and go off the road. She slowed down and tightened her grip on the wheel.
She was guiding the truck into a twist in the road when lightening flashed ahead of her. Automatically she started to count in a rough attempt to figure out how far away the storm was, but still the crack of thunder made her jump. She loosened her hold on the wheel at the same time as rain pelted down. A sharp gust of wind had the truck slithering on the suddenly slick surface. Instead of navigating into the turn, she went straight.
She ended up in the ditch. Rain pounded on the windshield. Darkness had truly descended now. All she could see ahead of her was what the truck’s headlights revealed, and that was pretty much nothing, just a long expanse of prairie that rolled off into the darkness. There were no landmarks to tell her where she was, or buildings to offer shelter. Shelter made her think of her Beacon. She craned around in her seat, but even though she checked out three hundred and sixty degrees, she couldn’t see the comforting light.
She was alone, exactly what she had wanted to avoid when she started her journey back to the camp. Her hands flexed on the wheel as she fought down panic. It was a storm. People survived storms all the time. She’d driven off the road, but she hadn’t wrecked the truck. She had protection. Even if it wasn’t quite the shelter she wanted, she was out of the rain and wind.
Maybe her cell had service. She hadn’t checked it since earlier in the day. If there was service, she could call the local authorities and ask for help. Hopeful, she pulled her phone out and logged on. Nothing. No Wi-Fi, no data. Hopefulness fled.
She stared down at the screen. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to scream with frustration or moan in panic. Instead, she drew a deep breath. She’d driven off the road, she hadn’t rolled the vehicle. Trucks were designed to handle all kinds of terrain. She’d try getting it back onto the road so she could be on her way.
Ten minutes later she gave up on that. The wind made controlling the big vehicle difficult, while the rain had turned the soil into a quagmire. She was not going to get the pickup back onto the road. Not tonight, not without a tow. With her options exhausted, she put her head onto the steering wheel and gave way to despair.
The blast of a horn, followed shortly afterward with a pounding on the window beside her, had Liz lifting her head. She blinked as she looked through the glass at the male figure outside. Shoulders were hunched against the weather. The face was obscured by a wide-brimmed, low-crowned hat. She should have been frightened by the advent of the stranger, but all she could feel was a dawning hope.
He signaled her to roll down her window, so she did.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m okay.” She had to shout to have her words heard over the roar of the wind.
He stepped back to scrutinize the situation. “You’ve got yourself in pretty deep,” he said, turning his attention back to her.
She nodded again. “The wind caught the front end as I was rounding the curve and the rain made the road slick. I tried to back out—and go forward!—but neither worked. I’m stuck.” She flashed him her widest smile. “Can you help?”
He didn’t reply immediately. She hoped it was because he was figuring out how to haul her out of the ditch. Finally he shook his head. “Not tonight. I can’t risk my truck getting stuck as well, if something in the tow goes wrong.”
Disappointment made it hard for her to keep from protesting, but she did, because his reasoning made sense. “Right,” she said. She couldn’t manage a smile, but
she could ask a favor. “When you get to wherever you’re going, would you arrange for a tow truck to come out here in the morning?”
Amusement showed in the merest flicker of a smile on his hard mouth. “You want me to leave you here for the night?”
She frowned. “Do I have an option?”
At that he did laugh. “No. Roll up the window. Pull what you need from the truck and come with me.”
Liz thought about psychotic murderers, trusting strangers, and never going anywhere with someone you didn’t know. She rolled up the window, pocketed the keys, and hopped out of the truck when he pulled the door open and held it against the press of the wind.
“Where’s your jacket?” he demanded as she reached the ground.
She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Her most sensible clothing was her scuffed leather boots. “It was hot when I set out this afternoon. I don’t have one.”
He shook his head, even as he pointed back to the road. “Never trust the weather out here. It can turn in an instant. The passenger door’s unlocked.”
After that comment she expected him to leave her to fend for herself against the pelting rain and battering wind, but he stuck close, helping her balance on the slippery footing and shielding her with his body from the worst of the storm. Even so, she was wet when they reached his truck. He hauled open the door and she scrambled inside with absolutely no grace or elegance.
She thought he would round the front hood to the driver’s side, but instead he went to the back of the truck. She heard him bang something, then a few moments later he was pulling open the door to the driver’s side. He tossed her a couple of packages, then levered himself into the truck.
She caught the packages with a woof, then said, “What’s this?”
“Emergency kit.” He started the truck. “I don’t want to have to get out again.”