by Holly Hook
“Frank!” I yell. My heart fills with dread at the sound of his name. What will a human, normal Frank be like? Isabel flicks her hair back next to me as if she's ready to meet him. How does she feel about all of this? I hate to bring her into another war.
“Fred!” Simon cups his hands around his mouth and shouts their names, over and over.
“Here!”
A man nearby lifts his hand and waves. He's an older man, complete with a long nineteenth century beard and an army hat. He's definitely not the Frank or the Fred we're looking for. He sets his rifle up against a tree. “I'm here. Who are you? What are you doing here? Did you come from town?”
“Never mind,” Simon calls. “Have you seen a set of twins? Two men with dark hair? Young men?”
“I can't recall that I have.” The man has a Northeastern accent. “There are a lot of us here. You aren't going to find them, I'm afraid."
“Thanks,” Simon calls.
“You kids should get out of here and get back into town,” the solider calls. “Haven't you heard the fighting here? This is not a place for you, especially you young women.”
I curse.
“This is the third day of the fighting,” I say. “We have to hurry.”
We're heading downhill now, towards the open field. Our chances of seeing Frank or Fred might be better there. The landscape opens up and the trees stop. I wish I were more sheltered, but we have to find Frank. There are more soldiers here and more fires.
"Don't fall into that," Simon says, grabbing my arm.
There's a gouge mark in the ground as if something's blown up there. Are they shooting cannons already? They must be.
Then a horrible thought hits me.
"What if Frank's already been claimed by Time?" I ask. "He could have. There have been two days of fighting already."
"He probably hasn't been," Isabel says. "If this time was after that, he wouldn't have stood at this rift so much, thinking of his brother."
"Good point," I say.
The sky's growing lighter on the horizon. Any minute, the fighting will start again. It might even be over before noon, and countless bodies will lie here, mutilated and rotting in the sun. We don't want to be around for that.
“Frank!” I call. Isabel joins in. We move deeper into the throngs of soldiers. Some of them look at us. One has a gash across his forehead. Yes, this is definitely the second or third day. “Frank!”
"What are you girls doing here?"
"Go back to town!"
I ignore the soldiers telling us to go away. A couple more of them whistle. They're thicker here and more numerous. We must be close to where the charge will take place.
There's a stone fence ahead. It must be dividing the Union and Confederate lines, because I see no one beyond it for about a mile. There are distant fires much farther away in the fields. The enemy. They're waiting until morning.
“Frank!” I yell.
The sun's peeking over the horizon. It's a bright red eye, glaring out over everything. The dew on the grass dampens the bottom of my dress. My heart pounds. Isabel breaks into a run, screaming Frank's name. She's panicking. I don't blame her. She's had enough of war and frankly, so have I.
We run through the soldiers, calling names. So many bearded men look after us and shout at us to leave, but no one moves to stop us. Maybe they're too tired. Maybe they're too tense, waiting for the enemy. Whatever. But most of them are men older than seventeen, men who didn't lie about their ages to enlist.
We approach a tent where several men bend over a paper on a table. Commanders, or something. I pull back the flap and peek inside to make sure Frank's not there. One of the guys faces me. He has gray in his beard. He turns away from his plans and glares at me. His eyes are hard, his expression stone. "Woman, this is no place for you. There will be death here today. You may even be captured by the enemy if they manage to get through our lines." Then his features soften. "Are you lost?"
"I'm looking for a young man named Frank. And another young man named Fred. They're twins." I can't keep the tremor out of my voice.
"I do not know who you speak of," he says. "I am sorry, but I am sure the men in question have duties here today." He wipes his brow with a cloth. "Go. We must plan our defense and I cannot have any more distractions."
Duties. It makes me think of Frank's words back on the Titanic.
“He's not out here." Simon pulls me from the tent. The sun's over the horizon now, a full red eye waiting for the bloodbath. “We have to go back and check in the trees on that wooded hill. I hope Monica's okay. I don't want to something to happen to her just because of Frank.”
Simon's right. I scan the men again, the blue uniforms and the rifles and tents. There's no sign of him. “We never checked back there,” I say, pointing to the area behind the trees. “Maybe--”
A shot rings out. It's not a gunshot. It's a low thunderous sound, like something much bigger going off.
Like a cannon.
Most of the soldiers look skyward and some shout and curse. They're ready for this sort of thing.
“Rats,” I manage. “That's our cue."
“Wait,” Isabel says. She grabs my hand. “We have to see where the cannons are firing to. Where they're landing. If Frank's supposed to die by one, we need to head there.”
“I agree.” My stomach plummets.
It takes everything I have to just stand there and listen and watch for where the cannon's going to land. I see nothing going through the air, but at last, I hear the impact. Most of the soldiers are looking towards the very back of the field, away from the front lines. Dirt flies everywhere and leaves another crater in the ground. A group of four soldiers run away from it, but there is almost no one else back there. The enemy has overshot the front lines.
Another cannon fires from the distance, and another.
I struggle to remember more details of the battle. “The enemy is trying to weaken the Union side before the attack. That's my guess,” I say. I face the field behind the front lines, to where more dirt explodes. I can't tell if anyone's there. “We need to follow that.”
We have to go out there and find Frank and Fred. I squint. There are two men in blue over in the shade of a tree. That might be them. They're so far away, on the other side of those blasts. Either they're trying to hide or they're trying to avoid running through the danger.
"Don't tell me that's them," Simon says, holding his hand to his forehead.
My heart flutters in my chest. Will Time even still be snatching people out of disasters and recruiting them if it's so sick? But if it's stopped doing that, Frank wouldn't be after us anymore. We have to go.
"Come on!" I run first.
"Julia! Let me go. Stay here!" Simon's right on my heels.
The three of us run towards the area that's getting shelled. Another eruption of dirt goes up. The enemy has no idea that they're missing their target. I'm glad. I don't want to see these men getting blown to pieces. I don't even want to see Frank suffer that fate.
“I can't do this,” Isabel manages, but she keeps running beside us. More of the soldiers yell at us and tell us to get out of here, but we don't stop. They thin. We're running away from the front lines, after all. That's what they want.
A tree springs up beside us, and another. We're close. The earth explodes about a hundred yards to my left. There aren't many soldiers here. The four I spotted first are running for the front lines, away from the blasts. And they're not Frank and his brother. The two men I'm going for still stand under the tree.
They have dark, messy hair. They're young, with no beards. And they look exactly alike with angular faces.
“There!" Isabel points to them. We've found them, standing right in the place that's getting shelled.
It's Frank. And his brother.
I run for them.
“Frank!”
He looks up. This is not the Frank I remember. He has Frank's face. Frank's sloppy posture that he makes look cool no matte
r what. But this Frank doesn't look confident. He looks very small and scared, pressing up against the tree like he's not sure what to do. Like a child, almost.
This Frank is seventeen and inexperienced and he's realizing what a horrible mistake he's made by joining the war. His brother Fred looks no better. I realize now why they're hanging back from the front lines. They're terrified.
This is the duty he was talking about all along. The duty that he neglected. The mistake that killed his brother.
"Who are you?” he calls. He straightens up at the sight of us. “What are you doing out here? This is no place for ladies.”
“I know.” I stop next to him. The two of them are standing next to each other. If a shell lands here, Time will open up a rift and swallow Frank. Fred will get blown to pieces. Then it will be done. We might have only once chance at this, especially since Isabel's faster is waiting out in the Hub for us. I speak as fast as I can. “The two of you need to move away from this spot. There's going to be a shell coming down any second. It'll kill you--” I point at Frank's twin brother--”And you don't even want to know what'll happen to you. Move!”
Frank stands closer to the tree. He faces his brother. “Do you know these people?” he asks. “Did you meet them in town?” There are nerves in his voice.
Fred shakes his head. He looks so much like Frank that it's eerie. The only difference is that he was a freckle on the side of his head.
“I don't know who they are," he says. “Never seen them.”
“Move!” Simon grabs onto Frank's sleeve and pulls.
Frank staggers away from the tree. "What are you doing?" He lifts something away from it—a rifle--and pulls against Simon. Is he still going to kill us? Is the human Frank just as terrible as the Timeless version? I don't want to find out.
I grab Frank's other arm and the rifle strikes my leg. “I mean it. We're just trying to help you,” I say. “We...we came from the future. All of us. The two of you are supposed to die in a cannon blast. Don't you hear them raining down? You need to get to the front lines or you need to run. All the shells are landing back here.”
"Let go of me," he says, shoving me back.
I let go of his arm and stagger back. He raises the rifle and Simon releases him. He doesn't aim it at us, but he doesn't need to.
Earth explodes only a hundred feet to our left. Frank and his brother jump.
“See?” I press.
“Frank, I know you don't think you know me, but listen.” Isabel pushes past me and faces him. “You are in danger. If you don't move, you'll die. I know you, Frank. You don't want to do that. It'll cause you to make so many mistakes in the future.”
“You don't know me,” Frank says. “Are you insane?”
“Frank, I know your birthday. It's June fifteenth. I know your mother's name. It's Aggie. I know that you love the blueberry muffins she makes and that you love jumping into the river off that tree back home. Trust me when I say that I know what's going to happen to you.”
Frank stares at her like she's landed from another planet. We have to move. I face the sky but see nothing raining down. More thunder echoes from the distance. He faces Fred. “Did you tell her to say that?”
Fred holds up his hands. “I didn't. I swear on my life.”
“Frank!” Isabel waves her arms. “Leave. Why are you standing way back here, anyway?”
Frank pales and faces her. He's shaking. “Because I made a terrible error, okay? I didn't realize this war would be so long. So terrible. I've seen friends die, girl. I've seen them bleed out on the battlefield. I can't do it again. My friends...John...Randall...they're up there, ready to charge into battle. I'm not going to watch that happen to anyone else.”
His voice grows an octave with each word. He's cracking. Frank's breaking apart. This is where it started. This is where he messed up and why he's so obsessed with doing what he's told. I remember his words on the ship. I'm never going to avoid my duty again. So much hell came out of that.
“Then move,” I say. “Run away. Desert the army if you have to. Just get away from this spot!”
Another shell whizzes through the air.
It grows louder. Louder. Frank looks up and his brother curses.
"Now!" I yell.
I grab Frank's arm. Isabel takes his other.
We pull. He staggers, unable to resist both of us. At the same time, Simon dives for Fred.
The earth explodes. Dirt and smoke and shrapnel fly everywhere. Something burns my arm. I scream but keep my grip on Frank. We're dragging him. There's gold, shimmering where the cannonball has just exploded. It's a rift—the very rift meant to open up and claim Frank at the moment he was supposed to die. One of the few rifts strong enough for mortals to see.
We still have him. Frank's still in our grasp. “Pull!” Isabel yells. We take him farther and farther from the rift. His boots scrape against the grass.
Where's Simon?
Where is he?
The smoke settles. The golden curtains swish one more time as if angry that they didn't claim their prey, and vanish. Only destruction, a splintered tree trunk, and two figures on the ground remain.
“What?” Frank manages.
He's alive. Awake. We've prevented Time from taking him. We've stopped him from ever terrorizing us again.
Now we're free to go back to 1912 and make sure we survive the sinking. We're free to make sure Nancy never snaps out of existence from our stupid mistake.
But where's Simon?
Fred lies on the ground. He pushes himself up. His blue uniform is covered in bits of dirt and dust. He's survived. Simon's pulled him out of the way just in time.
“Simon!”
He's there.
Next to the tree trunk, clutching his leg.
I drop Frank. He's no longer my concern. I have a feeling that after this, he'll run. Get out of here and never look back.
“Simon!”
I run up to him. Simon lifts his head. How close was he to the blast?
“Julia.” He grabs at his pants. “My leg.”
“You look like you're okay,” I say, helping him up. But he grunts and falls back to the ground.
“My leg!” His face tightens up in pain.
Then I see.
There's a piece of shrapnel sticking out of it—and a red stain growing bigger and bigger on his pant leg. Simon claws at it, unable to dislodge it. He curses louder than I've ever heard him.
He's impaled. Bleeding.
My heart about stops. "Oh, my God."
“What's going on?” Frank's there, mouth gaping open. “What—you were right. How did you know that was going to happen?”
“Just help!” I can't believe I'm asking for Frank's assistance. I hook my arm under Simon's. “You have to get up. We can't stay here. Hurry!”
There's a loud cheer from the front lines.
Then gunshots, cracking through the air behind us.
The final battle has begun.
Chapter Fourteen
Simon manages to get all the way up. “Your leg,” I say, repeating him. “We've got to pull that out.”
“Not here." He tries to put weight on that side, but staggers. I catch him. Frank grabs his other arm. I feel as if I've landed in some strange parallel universe where nothing makes sense. Frank. Helping us.
Then I see all of Simon's injury.
The shrapnel has gone all the way through. Simon's calf is tight around it and his face has contorted with agony. Are there any arteries that go through that area? I don't want to take the chance, but if we leave that in, he might get an infection. My thoughts spin and I bite in a scream. I have to be in charge here. I can't panic.
Shots fire. I glance back. Smoke rises from all the rifles at the front lines. The Union soldiers keep up a high rate of fire. Somewhere on the other side of it, soldiers charge and a horse goes down. Will the fighting come back here? I don't think they will. The Union managed to hold the Confederates back. We still have to get Simon out
of here. Now.
“You have to walk.” I let him lean on me. “Take weight off that leg. Back to the rift. Now.”
“What's a rift?” Frank asks. His face is big and scared, but he glances back to where the battle's taking place, at all the smoke and fighting bodies and gunshots. Fred's next to him, wearing the same expression. It's clear that they'd rather go find a rift than go over there. It'll be safer for him that way. Will Time try to claim him again? I hope not.
“We're taking Simon there,” I say.
“What's this?” Fred's there, shaking his head. “You...you saved our lives!”
“Just help!” Isabel waves her arms and waves us towards the trees. "You guys just carry Simon. We don't want him bleeding any more before we get to the Hub."
"There have to be medical supplies here,” I say. “For the wounded. There must be. They'll treat Simon.”
“No offense, but I really don't want to be treated in this time period,” he says. "They might decide to cut off my leg. Is that true?” He faces Frank.
“It happened yesterday to a couple of men,” Frank says. “They screamed. I'm afraid Simon's right. And what are you talking about time periods for?"
We're walking now, away from the main charge and back up the hill towards the trees. We'll be safer up there. More sheltered. Away from the main battle. And no one will see us. They'll want all hands on deck down below. Simon seethes and with every step I absorb his pain. His face is pale. All the blood's draining out of it...and out of him. I glance down to see blood on his stockings. What are we going to do once we get to a tent? I don't even know how to dress a wound. I've kissed plenty of Melvin's, but nothing like this. Father never had these problems. And Mother didn't stick around long enough to teach me anything like this.
Simon's mortal now.
He could die.