Out of Time: A Time Travel Mystery (Out of Time #1)

by Monique Martin

  Simon laughed softly, relieved that she at least still had her sense of humor. “It’s good to see your powers of observation are still intact.”

  She offered him a wry smile, but it faded as she twisted on her seat and turned to take in all that she could. “This isn’t even Southern California. At least no part I’ve ever seen.”

  She was right. The architecture, what he could see of it, was completely wrong. Not to mention the smell of coal thick in the air. A shrill, odd-sounding car horn blared around the alley’s corner. And like the proverbial cat whose curiosity would always get the better of it, Elizabeth stood and started toward the mouth of the alley.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Simon asked.

  “Having a look around. We’re not going to figure out where we are just standing here.”

  He didn’t know what bothered him more. That she was so willing to wander off into God knows what, or that she was right.

  “Hang about,” he said and hurried to catch up.

  He grabbed her arm again, and she rolled her eyes. Petulant he could deal with. Out of his sight, he couldn’t. “Were you or were you not about to pass out a mere two minutes ago?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him but relented enough to convince him that she was not going to run out into the open. He edged in front of her, just at the corner of the building.

  His blood pressure rose as he braced himself for what was to come. If whomever had brought them here was still nearby, he had to be ready. But, as he peered around the corner, it wasn’t some mystery assailant he saw. It was something else entirely. His mind raced to process what his eyes saw, but the disconnect was too great. What on earth?

  After a long steady silence Elizabeth, who had crept up next to him, said in a soft voice filled with the same confusion he felt, “Tell me that isn’t a…I must be hallucinating. Tell me you don’t see what I see.”

  “A Model T?”

  And not just one. A mass of tall, long, rectangular shaped cars trundled past. Simon took an unsteady step backwards. Where in God’s name were they?

  “I was really hoping for hallucinating.”

  The cacophony was nearly deafening. High-pitched horns wailed up and down the endless street. A horse whinnied and reared, its hooves scraping the pavement. A sea of people, all talking at once, surged on the sidewalk in front of them. Men in suits and fedoras, women in vintage dresses walked by. A large horse-drawn cart clattered over the pavement. The clothing, the conveyances, everything was out of place. Or were they the ones out of place? The thought made his headache pound that much harder.

  Elizabeth nodded to herself, as if she’d pieced the whole thing together, but her eyes were a little desperate. “We’re on a set. They must be making a movie.”

  Simon had a terrible sinking feeling. He tugged on her arm.

  “Miss West,” he said, urging her to follow his lead and pulled her back into the alley. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

  She rubbed her forehead. “Being in your living room,” she said, blinking rapidly as she searched for more memories. “Looking at your grandfather’s things and then the watch went all higgledy-piggledy.”

  Adrenaline coursed through his veins. He raked both hands through his hair, stopping at his temples as if that could somehow keep his head form exploding. Something tickled the back of his mind, and he turned on his heel and looked down the length of the alley.

  The watch. It was absurd. But…could it be, he thought?

  In his single-minded concern for Elizabeth, he’d completely forgotten about it. He moved back down the alley and scoured the pavement until he found the timepiece only a few feet from where he’d regained consciousness. Gripping the case tightly, he carefully opened it. His eyes darted over the complex dials—times, dates…coordinates.

  “Impossible,” he said softly, trying to accept the unthinkable. The stories his grandfather had told him, what his own eyes had just seen…”Time travel isn’t—”

  Elizabeth appeared at his side. “Are you thinking that…thing brought us here?”

  He looked at her uncertainly. It was mad. His grandfather’s watch a time travel device? And yet….

  “I’m not sure,” he said finally, running his fingers along the embossed edge.

  Her eyes flashed with worry. “Be careful with it.”

  “I’m not an imbecile, Miss West,” he bit out.

  “No offense, but I’m not looking for a repeat performance of…whatever that was.”

  Neither was he. He knew the answer to all his questions lay in the watch. The strange dials that had been a mystery before now began to coalesce into a semblance of reason. If one could call it that. Simon’s head was spinning, and not just from the damnable headache that wouldn’t go away. It was insane. Absolutely insane to even consider, and yet….

  He looked back toward the mouth of the alley, trying to make the pieces of what had happened fit together. Simon pulled a slow hand down over his mouth and scrubbed at his chin and he put the pieces, however impossible they seemed, into place.

  Was it truly possible that all of the stories his grandfather had told him weren’t stories at all? The destruction of Pompeii, a night at Valley Forge, the War of the Roses. Dear God. Had he actually been there?

  Elizabeth leaned in to get a better look at the watch, her body brushing against his. “What’s going on, Professor?”

  How could he expect her to believe what he could hardly comprehend himself?

  She gripped his arm, and forced him to look at her. Her blue eyes, usually filled with confidence, danced nervously across his face. “What happened to us? Where are we?”

  He tried to quell his growing sense of panic and keep his voice calm and detached. “It’s not so much where we are, but when.”

  She shook her head. “What do you mean when?”

  He did some quick calculations. “Judging from the cars and style of dress, we appear to be in the late twenties.”

  “Twenties? As in Nineteen Twenties? You can’t be serious.”

  “Perhaps early thirties, I’ll need to check.”

  Research—the haven for a logical mind. Simon always sought refuge in detail, in the search for answers. His entire career had been built on the foundation that anything could be proven, no matter how incredible it sounded, if the right research was performed.

  “Check what?” Elizabeth asked following his gaze to the mouth of the alley before turning back and squeezing his arm more tightly. “I think you’d better tell me what the hell’s going on.”

  Simon held out the watch and stared down at the complicated dials. “If I’m reading this properly, I’d say it’s 1929. July 17th, 1929 to be exact.”

  Elizabeth let go of his arm and stepped back. Her voice trembled and she shook her head in denial. “That’s impossible.”

  A fresh wave of guilt washed over Simon. He couldn’t afford to give in to it. He cleared his throat and attempted to explain, but for the moment, could offer only, “It seems that my grandfather was more than merely eccentric.”

  Elizabeth stared at him, her expression blank. “Are you saying that thing’s really some sort of time machine?”

  “Apparently.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “Apparently not.”

  She put her fists on her hips and looked at him accusingly. “You’re awfully calm about this.”

  He was anything but calm. Still, he knew they had to keep a clear head if they were going to find a way out of this mess. “Would you prefer I panic?”

  “A little, yeah. I mean—Hello! Time travel. Not an everyday thing,” she said, a frown coming to her face. “Unless, you’ve done this before.”

  “Don’t be absurd.”

  She dropped her arms to her sides in an uncharacteristic huff. “Yeah, wouldn’t want to be absurd standing in an alley in Nineteen Twenty-Nine.”

  Simon took a deep calming breath. “I assure you, if I had any idea what this watch was
capable of…”

  Elizabeth relented. “I know. I’m sorry,” she said, nodding. She put one hand to her hip and pulled the other through the length of her hair as she turned and surveyed the alley again. “Can you undo it? Put it in reverse or whatever?”

  “I don’t think we should stumble ahead blindly.”

  “Worked getting us here.”

  Simon blanched at the remark. Whatever had happened to them was his fault. He could bear that, if there were a way to undo it.

  “I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”

  “No, you’re quite right, Miss West.” The weight of their situation truly dawned on him. If he’d been alone he could have faced it without pause. But now, for the first time in his life, he was responsible for someone else. “The situation is entirely my fault.”

  Simon felt the unaccustomed need to comfort welling inside him again. Compassion had never been a strong suit of his. If anything, the opposite was true. “You do know that I would never knowingly endanger you.”

  She paled a little more. “I know that. I…You think I’m in…I mean, we’re in danger?”

  “We’re in an unknown situation. I’d prefer to err on the side of caution.”

  “Agreed. Let’s err there.”

  Simon couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible was going to happen. It was more than the lingering memories of his dream. More than the situation they’d been thrust into. He’d never given much credence to hunches, but he had a sense he’d started something in motion bringing them here. Something he wouldn’t be able to control. Something inevitable.

  “Professor?” Elizabeth said, breaking him from his thoughts. “Maybe we should try to get back home?”

  “Agreed. But the question remains—how?”

  “We’ll just re-create everything,” she continued, her usual exuberance returning. “You were holding the watch. Did you do anything to it? Push any buttons?”

  “The stem did extend, but…”

  “Okay. Just do exactly what you did before.”

  “I’m not sure that’s wise. I’d much rather be sure of what I’m doing before I make another mistake.”

  “It’s worth—”

  A thick metal door swung open with a loud clang. Elizabeth jumped at the sound and grabbed Simon’s arm. A large, burly, unshaven man stepped into the alley. His white undershirt was stained a sickly yellow with sweat. “What you doin’ here?”

  Simon put his hand over Elizabeth’s and pulled her slightly behind him. He turned to glare at the man. “We were simply—”

  “Do it someplace else,” the man growled with a thick Brooklyn accent, as he threw his bucket of empty bottles into a nearby trash bin. “Go on, get out of here!”

  Simon ignored the man and started to turn back to Elizabeth.

  “You want I should call the cops?” the man said with a sneer, as he looked Elizabeth up and down. She was wearing a tight blue T-shirt and jeans, but his eyes traveled her figure as if she were naked. Her clothes were far too form-fitting for the period to be anything other than something a tramp would wear. “Take your quiff and get a room.”

  Simon’s body tensed. He slowly pulled out of her grasp and took a long direct stride toward the man. “I beg your pardon?”

  The big man only smiled. “You heard me.”

  Simon started forward again, but Elizabeth pulled on his arm.

  “We can’t afford to see the police,” she whispered. “Let’s just go.”

  Simon’s eyes flared, and he turned back to the big man. Long dormant emotions boiled to the fore. His instinct to defend Elizabeth crashed into his common sense. He’d known more than his fair share of bullies, and most could be cowed with a biting remark. But this was something different. He’d never felt such an overwhelming desire to punch someone in the mouth.

  “Professor,” Elizabeth urged and tugged on his arm.

  Simon gave the man a long, steely glare before he turned back to Elizabeth. Without another word, he took her by the arm and led her out of the alley.

  “Good idea, Professor,” the man called out after them.

  ~~~

  Elizabeth could feel Simon’s tension and anger radiating off him as they walked away. They’d nearly gone halfway down the block before he relaxed enough to finally release her. Frowning and apparently embarrassed by his show of emotion, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m sorry.”

  Elizabeth couldn’t help, but grin. “You’d better stop apologizing. Might be habit forming.”

  Simon smiled back. Why couldn’t he have smiled like that back home? Had to be here, she thought, and looked around at the busy street. Wherever here was.

  The cars were huge, and there were so many of them. Big black sedans with cloth-canopied tops and headlamps sticking out like bug eyes meandered along the street creating some semblance of lanes. The foot traffic surged around them, and Elizabeth felt terribly underdressed. Some men wore knickers and bow ties, or Oxford bag pants that ballooned as they walked past. Every one of them wore a hat. Fedoras and bowlers. And the women too. They all had on hats. Tight-fitting cloches or veiled peekaboos. And dresses.

  A couple glared at her, whispering disapproval as they noticed her pants. Not one woman wore slacks, only dresses and skirts. Some wore their hose turned-down in a risqué fashion statement, but clearly wearing blue jeans was not something a lady did. All too aware that she was showing off her limited goods, Elizabeth self-consciously crossed her arms over her chest.

  Hundreds of cars and thousands of people teemed around them in a dizzying rush. More and more passersby gave them odd, disapproving looks.

  A young boy with a ragged, woolen cap strode past them. “Paper! Get your paper here!”

  Simon startled her as he called out. “Boy!”

  The young man came over to them and held out a paper. Simon reached into his pockets and came out empty. And even if he had change, she realized, they couldn’t start spreading twenty-first century money into the past.

  “Sorry, I don’t…” Simon showed the boy his empty palm.

  The newsboy sighed, but then noticed Elizabeth for the first time. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Ain’t you the stuff?”

  He couldn’t have been more than twelve, and by no means a threat, but she couldn’t help but feel a little tingle when Simon stepped closer to her and glared at the boy. But she couldn’t dwell on that. Using Simon’s momentary distraction of the boy to her advantage, she used opportunity to get a glance at the paper.

  “Just lookin’,” the kid said quickly and started back down the street.

  Elizabeth leaned in and whispered in Simon’s ear. “You were right. July 17, 1929. And the Yankees lost again.”

  Simon raised his eyebrow in question.

  “Read the headline.”

  “That’s my girl,” he said, but then cleared his throat and looked away.

  Her stomach fluttered at the compliment, not to mention how adorable he was when he was flustered. “And we know that you can read the watch.”

  “True,” he said, pulling her closer as the crowd surged across the intersection. He led her to an empty doorway away from the mass of people. “But, I’m afraid, reading and manipulating are far different things.”

  “You’ll figure it out.”

  Simon didn’t seem so sure. He looked down at the watch once more before he put it in his pocket. “This may take some time.”

  The doubt in his voice sent a shiver up her spine. He’d never been anything but certain, and to see him off-balance was incredibly disconcerting. But why should it all be on his shoulders? She wanted to allay his fears, but she knew him. Recognizing he had them would be an insult. Better to lighten the mood. If anyone was ever in need of a little cheering up, it was Simon. “If my boss doesn’t mind that I’m late,” she said. “Then I’m game.”

  His lips quirked into a smile. “You will be docked pay, of course.”

  Elizabeth laughed, but it didn’
t last long. They couldn’t exactly stand around on the street while he figured out the watch. There was no telling how long that might take and the sun was already dipping behind the buildings.

  Their current, hopefully temporary situation was surreal, but she could deal with it. What choice was there? They just needed a plan. Time for some acting and not just reacting.

  “So,” she said. “We’re going to need shelter, at least for the night.”

  “Yes. I’d prefer not to stay on the streets. I doubt New York has changed that much in the last seventy years.”

  “Right.”

  “And we’ll need clothes,” Simon added. “I’m afraid we’re garnering a bit too much attention as we are.”

  Elizabeth’s stomach growled loudly.

  “And evidently food,” he continued. “Preferably something not out of garbage can.”

  “So we need money,” Elizabeth summarized. It always came down to money, didn’t it?

  “So it would seem,” he agreed. “Any ideas?”

  She shrugged. “I guess we’ll do it the old fashioned way.”

  He nearly choked. “Prostitution? Miss West, I—”

  She put a hand on his arm. “Pawn something,” she clarified.

  He hesitated. “We can do that?”

  Elizabeth swallowed the laugh that threatened to bubble up. He seemed genuinely alarmed at the idea. “It’s not the best bang for your buck, but when you’re in a pinch.” She shrugged. “I think this qualifies as a pinch.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know…” he said and then held out his hands helplessly.

  Elizabeth smiled. This she knew how to do. It was a good feeling to be able to help. “I do. We need jewelry, things like that are the easiest to pawn. What do you have?”

  Simon took stock of his personal items. She’d never seen him wear jewelry of any kind, except for his wristwatch. He pulled back the sleeve of his sweater and took off the watch. “Will this do? It’s not a very modern design.”

  Elizabeth took the watch and frowned. “Broken,” she said. The crystal was smashed. “Must have happened when we crash landed.”

  Simon put the watch back on his wrist. “Your necklace?” he asked.