Lost in the Mist

by Wanda C. Keesey

  "I know that, and you know that; but I don't think he knows that.” Brian smiled after the departing vehicle. “Come on. Let's try to catch the morning light bouncing off of those hills. The Union encampments were along the river. Chatham is that way.” He pointed south-east of where they stood. “It's just a short walk."

  "Lead the way. I'll bring up the rear.” Connie felt free of the B&B's haunting presence. The strange peace made her want to run toward the hills beyond and wallow in their serenity. She would settle for feeling the hot sun on her bare arms, and the gentle breeze from the river moving her curls with tender care.

  Brian put her to work, handing him his equipment and trying to keep the throngs of tourists back while he took his shots of the historic mansion and the surrounding area. Connie forgot the problems of the past and found joy in the company of the present. She laughed at his feeble attempt to tell jokes, smiling in turn when he laughed at hers.

  He caught the countryside and its buildings on film, until the sun had climbed to stand directly overhead. “I think we can take a break now. It's a good time to catch some lunch and tour the inside. I'll be able to get some shots of the city this afternoon."

  "I would like to see the area south of here. I haven't seen any re-enactors but that would be a good area for an encampment."

  "You might be disappointed. I don't think there are any groups here right now.” Brian picked his way across the uneven ground. He held out his hand to Connie, offering to assist her over a narrow ditch. He knew she could manage herself, but hoped she would accept. Their hands came together. She stepped over the opening and released her hold. Brian still gripped the long slender hand. Startled, Connie looked into his eyes. They were tender with caring. She returned his smile and fed her fingers through his.

  They entered the historic building that had, at various times, housed the commands and hospitals of both the North and the South. The signs of destruction remained.

  Running her free hand over the scarred wall, Connie smelled the mix of horses and gunpowder. She saw the outlines of soldiers hurrying in and out the front door, heard commands being shouted, and the screams of the wounded and dying. She could feel the chill of a wet winter rain pounding the hard ground outside. Her shoulders shook with the chill.

  "You can't be cold. It has to be over ninety degrees in here.” Brian's voice seemed to come from far away. Connie swayed, reaching for support. Brian held her. “Let's go outside. It's close in here."

  Back in the trampled yard, Connie's head started to clear. “I'm all right, maybe it was the heat, but I thought ... but it couldn't be.

  "What? That you were tripping? I know it's no comfort, but I thought you might be getting ready to leave, too."

  "It doesn't fit. I always go back to Victoria. The soldiers I saw were in the Union army. What would she be doing here?” Connie suddenly felt the full extent of her restless night. “Let's get something to drink. I need to sit down for a while."

  "And eat. We didn't have much of a breakfast,” Brian said.

  They walked to an open snack bar surrounded by a wood deck. Small metal tables protected by umbrellas filled the area in front, the sides held long wooden tables with benches. He led her to one of the small tables being vacated by a family of three.

  "What would you like?” he asked as he made a futile attempt to wipe the table with a napkin.

  "Something hot, a chocolate, tea, or coffee.” She rubbed her arms against an inner chill, what she had experienced was more than the heat, or being tired, or lack of food, and they both knew it.

  A fleeting frown marred Brian's handsome face, as he headed for the sign hanging over the snack bar counter, “Place orders here".

  Connie moved her metal chair into the sun, turning her face to its brilliance. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the warming rays.

  "I leave you for a few minutes and you fall asleep. What does that say for my company?"

  Hearing his voice made her smile. Shifting in the hard chair Connie moved closer to the table and the steaming Styrofoam cup waiting for her. “It says a lot. I'm fully awake while you're here, but I fall asleep the minute you walk away."

  "Good recovery.” Brian nodded with the mock satisfaction of a stroked ego. “Here, I got some sandwiches and chips. The fries looked pretty greasy so did the burgers. These are ham and cheese. It should hold us till be can get some real food."

  Taking a tentative sip from the cup, Connie heard rumbling in her stomach. “I didn't realize how hungry I am. This looks great.” Selecting one of the sandwiches from the small orange tray, she removed the wrapper.

  Only hearing the sound of Brian's voice, but not taking in the words, Connie nodded and smiled at times that seemed appropriate. She was lost in her own thoughts. Why had she felt a presence so strongly in the battered mansion? Victoria may have been to the house at some time in her life, but it was unlikely during the Union occupation. Yet, she was sure she had started to trip, and so was Brian.

  "...think I'm being ignored. Even if it is by a beautiful woman, I don't like it."

  Smiling at his pointed comment, Connie fluttered her eyelashes coyly. “I'm so sorry, but your extreme good looks have distracted me from your intellect. I do beg your pardon."

  Brian laughed at her false flattery. “How can I resist? Of course, you're pardoned ... but only if you make a more determined effort to enjoy yourself."

  "My friend, I am enjoying myself, thanks to you. But we had better get a move on, or you won't get the rest of your pictures."

  Brian shot roll after roll of film over the next few hours. “I'm losing the light. I might as well call it a day.” Covering the lens of the camera, he packed his equipment. “Let's take this stuff back to the car and drive down river. We can look for an encampment."

  * * * *

  There didn't seem to be any. The only inhabitants were park rangers and other tourists. Brian and Connie had walked beyond the commotion being made by a group of children and entered a quiet and empty wooded area.

  Turning to voice her disappointment, Connie was startled to see Brian slowly disappear as fog surrounded her. No, I can't trip here. This was the Union camp. Panic gripped her. “Brian, what's happening?” She knew, but how? Why? “Victoria didn't come to this side of the river during the war. She couldn't have.” Turning back to look down at the surging river, Connie saw the season had changed, it was winter again. A light rain mixed with snow fell on the already frozen ground. The riverbank bore signs of past snows and freezing rain.

  She wasn't alone. Connie followed the sound of voices coming from the gloom ahead. The light from a flickering campfire beckoned. As she drew nearer she was able to make out words.

  "...boots are nothing but holes..."

  "...one more piece of hardtack, and I won't have any teeth left."

  "...any coffee in that pot?"

  "What's that? Over there, on the wood's edge."

  The last question startled Connie. The soldier asking the question was pointing at her. Quickly she looked around, she was alone.

  "Stand and be recognized. Who are ya?” Raising his rifle, the young man pointed it at her.

  The others around the fire stopped complaining and turned to see the intruder.

  "What do you see, Andrew? A deer, or horse, maybe a fox or rabbit?"

  "I don't see a thing. Not a man or beast."

  A chorus of remarks filled the tense air.

  "Come on, boy, sit and drink some coffee. Ya haven't been downin’ a bit of whiskey have you? Cause if you have, I wouldn't mind at all havin’ a pull at that bottle myself."

  "I'm not drunk. And I'm not dreaming. I see someone standin’ over by the road.” Squinting as he strained to see through the dim light beyond the campsite, Andrew stepped outside the circle of his comrades.

  "Go on with ya then. Hunt for your ghosts, but if you're not back in time for the rabbit stew ... well I ain't goin’ save ya any, that's fer sure.” A burly man leaned over and moved a stick ar
ound inside a metal pot sitting on rocks in the edge of the fire. “Smellin’ pretty good, ‘bout now, so don't be goin’ too far."

  The solder walked toward Connie, his rifle pointed at her. She could see the brass on his blue uniform and the grime on his face and hands. “How did you get through the picket? Who are you? What do you want here?” He turned his head slightly to the side, but his eyes never left hers.

  "It's a woman,” he shouted over his shoulder. “And she ain't wearin’ but some scraps of clothes."

  "Tell her to come join us,” the burly private yelled back. “Could use some help with this stew."

  "Well speak up,” the corporal said to Connie. “I won't hurt you, if you have a good reason for being here.” As if to strengthen his words, he lowered his rifle.

  "I don't know what I'm doing here,” Connie whispered. Her eyes were glued to the young man. Have I seen him before? Why can he see me? I have seen him somewhere, but where? Pictures salvaged from the Civil War and published in books, magazines and on the Internet paraded through Connie's mind as she tried to put this soldier in the correct mental slot.

  "Are you lost? Must be ... are you from across the river? You do dress strange over there. Pants on a lady, and short ones at that. Come by the fire and get warm. You're shakin’ like a leaf. Not even a coat.” His words hung in the air. Andrew leaned forward and reached toward Connie.

  She stood still, her arms wrapped across her chest against the cold.

  As his finger touched her arm, his hand withdrew quickly. “Well you're real enough. But where are you from? Why are you here? Are you a spy? Speak or I will have to take action."

  "I'm not a spy. I don't know why I'm here...” Connie searched for reason.

  Unnoticed by either of them, a burly private had left his post next to the stew pot, and now stood behind the younger man. He was shorter than the Corporal and broader. His nose had been broken and his face scarred. His hairy hand slapped down on the slender shoulder startling both Connie and Andrew. “Ain't nothin’ out here worth lookin’ at, lad. Come on back to the fire, stews done and waitin’ to be et. With your pretty face, if a woman does come by she won't be going any further."

  "What's wrong with you man? Don't you see her? She's standing right there in front of you.” The angry words were emphasized by sharp jerks to rid him of the unwanted restraining hand.

  "Andrew, come on, you're worrin’ me. There's nothin’ here."

  The corporal swung around to confront his friend. Connie could see that he was trying to control his emotions. “Go back to the fire. I'll be there in a bit.” He encouraged the other man to leave. “I said I'll be along.” When the big man started to turn, Andrew tried to sound cheerful, “And you better save me some of that stew, or the next pot we boil will have you in it."

  When they were alone again, he turned back. “I don't know who or what you are, but you better mean no harm to my men, or it will be the last harm you cause."

  Shaking her head Connie tried to assure him. “I mean you no harm. I don't know how I got here.” She tried to make him understand. “Who are you?” As the question formed, Connie felt herself slipping away. The soldiers and their camp faded like an old photograph, the trees spun around her.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Twenty-Four

  "What did you see? Maybe that's a clue as to why?” Brian asked.

  They were in car. The windows open to let the late afternoon air cool the hot interior.

  "I told you what happened. I saw a camp and one of the soldiers saw me, we talked. He was a corporal and his first name was Andrew. I don't know why, Brian. Anymore than I know why Victoria sees me. There must be a connection, and I think I need to find out what it is. It's the key to this whole thing.” Connie loudly protested the latest “trip".

  "It didn't follow the ‘rules'. Why would a Union Corporal be able to see me? How did he pull me back? I have no control at all. I am at the whim of ... of what? Time? The past? Whatever it is that's pushing me around. And I don't like it one little bit.” Her anger dissolved into tears. She hit her fist against her leg.

  Brian caught her hand and pulled her toward him, holding her trembling body against his. She was scared to death, and who wouldn't be.

  There's only one thing to do. He had to get her away from here. But how? She had already said that she doesn't want to leave—no she said that she couldn't leave until she knows why she goes back into time.

  Connie drifted off into a restless sleep while Brian worked his way through the lines of tourist's cars leaving the park. He drove in silence, occasionally glancing at her. Even in sleep her brow was furrowed. He wanted to reach over and smooth away the strain, erase the worry.

  He'd never felt quite like this about anyone before, other than family. He hated seeing her always worried and pale. Today had been great, right up to the unexpected trip. Connie was special and he didn't want to lose her before they had a chance to really know each other. He had to do something—and he knew just what to do.

  Connie moaned, and shook her head from side to side as she slept. She mumbled to people only she could see, the words unclear.

  Brian's grip on the steering wheel relaxed as he put miles behind them. He drove in the far right lane allowing the traffic to whiz by. Was he doing the right thing? He looked again at Connie. Yes. There was no choice. He had to get her away from that town.

  They drove north, away from Fredericksburg. Brian started to watch the signs. They would stop somewhere for the night. He would go back to the B & B and pack their things, but first they would find a place to eat. In the morning he would take Connie home.

  "Louie's Subs, best in the East,” “Big Bass Truck Stop, next exit,” “Shipwreck Diner, seafood our specialty, take next exit, only ten miles to Fredericksburg” ... the billboards slipped by.

  It couldn't be, Brian thought, he was heading north. They should be nearing Washington. Maybe the sign was put on the wrong side of the road. He watched for road markers. Seeing an emergency pull-over area ahead, he slowed as he pulled onto the wide gravel shoulder. Had the last two mile-markers been wrong too? Or were they headed south? Damn it ... it couldn't be! His knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel; his jaw ached from clenching his teeth.

  Stepping out of the car, Brian looked toward the sun. It was low in the sky on his right. He was heading south.

  Ice ran through his veins. His head throbbed. How did he get turned around? There's no way! Something ... some forces were at work that wouldn't be denied.

  Returning to the car, Brian tried to stop his hands from shaking as he put them on the steering wheel. He used his shirt tail to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

  "Where are we?” Connie asked with a yawn. “Why have we stopped? Are we home?"

  "Apparently we're ten miles north of Fredericksburg.” Gritting his teeth, Brian put the car into gear and eased it into the traffic.

  There's no choice but to go back—back into the Twilight Zone. No, that's not right, he never left it. IT wouldn't allow them to go.

  * * * *

  "What do you mean we're ten miles north of Fredericksburg?” Connie looked out the window at the passing scenery, the office buildings cropping up among the trees, new housing developments to house the workers for the new industry. “What are we doing here? Where were you going? To supper? There are a lot of nice restaurants near Fredericksburg. Why would you want to go so far?"

  Brian was quiet, but Connie could see his jaw working as he ground his teeth together. Was he angry?

  "Brian, what's going on?” What could have happened in the short time since they left the park?

  "I don't know.” He bit the words off, keeping his eyes on the fast moving cars around him. “I wanted to take you away. To make sure that you're safe. That's all. But ... well you can see we're headed right back."

  "What are you talking about? You wanted to take me where?"

  Brian didn't answer.

  "Stop at t
he next service area, or restaurant or motel, anywhere ... but stop. Now. We have to talk.” She watched until he nodded, then sat back rubbing her arms. Why was she so cold?

  * * * *

  Brian and Connie sat in a booth near the kitchen. Dark walls on three sides gave them privacy even though a steady stream of servers and bus boys passed nearby.

  Connie waited until the waiter brought their coffee before asking Brian again. “Where were you taking me?"

  "Away. Away from Fredericksburg. Home, to Pennsylvania I guess.” Brian held the coffee cup between his hands. He seemed to be concentrating on the dark liquid and refused to look at her.

  "Something—something turned us around.” He stopped to sip his drink, gripping the mug tight to still the shaking of his hands. “I didn't ... I started seeing signs that said we were headed back toward Fredericksburg."

  "Are you sure you didn't pull over for some reason and got back on the highway going south?” Watching the slow shake of his head, Connie tried to make sense of what Brian was saying.

  "No, I didn't stop after leaving Chatham. Once we were far enough away, I planned on getting you a room somewhere while I went back to get the rest of our things."

  "You were kidnapping me."

  Brian's head jerked up. “No, not kidnapping ... I guess I thought I was rescuing—"

  "From what?” Connie snapped. “You had no right..."

  "I was ju—"

  "You didn't ask if I wanted to leave. What right do you have to make that assumption?"

  They sat quietly as the waiter brought a small loaf of bread on a cutting board and a bowl of wrapped butter pats, placing them on the end of their table.

  "I only wanted to protect you. After this afternoon ... you were so upset ... what was I suppose to do? Just calmly take you back to that house?” Brian pushed his cup away and sat back in the wide vinyl covered bench, with his arms crossed over his chest.

  "You should have asked me. Maybe I want to go back to ‘that house'.” Connie didn't try to hide her anger. It was Phillip all over again. “What is it with men? Evan, you and Phi—All of you. I trusted you. You have to control everything and everyone around you. Yes, the house scares me, and yes, traveling in time scares me, but I have to do it. And yes, I guess in a way, I want to do it."