“Shit!” She dashed around the house and headed back into the woods, onto the same path as before.
With Elizabeth Anne in her arms, she couldn’t move nearly as fast, so she had to lose him right away. She did have a greater distance on him this time so maybe, if she got to the first clearing quickly enough, she’d have a chance. She was surprised at how many bushes stuck out in the path, which she hadn’t noticed before, but with Elizabeth Anne they seemed to all be grabbing for her. But she pushed on and kept Elizabeth’s head covered hoping she didn’t cry. She seemed to be enjoying the ride.
At the clearing she didn’t even pause. She took the left fork and ran as hard as she could back into the trees. The darkness was closing and maybe... maybe she would make it.
Bronson stopped at the clearing and listened. He heard a noise and spun around. A squirrel scrambled half way up a tree and looked at him. Another rustle, another squirrel. They seemed to stare and mock him.
“Damn you, Anne Waring,” he said at the squirrels and headed back to the cabin.
Bronson was sitting on a stool on the porch of the cabin when a little girl stepped onto the road from across the way, coming from another path. These paths must be all over, he thought. Without any apprehension, she walked up to him.
“Is Aunt Anne still having business?”
“Aunt Anne?”
“Yes. Mrs. Waring. Is she still having business? If she is not, I would like to say good-bye again.”
“She’s not here.”
“Oh! Why are you here then?”
“I had business with her, but I can’t find her. Do you know where she might be?”
She shook her head. “Maybe she left early. She was supposed to leave at 7:00, she said, and we weren’t supposed to come down here, but I miss her already. She said she was never coming back.”
“Never coming back!”
“No. She is going to be with her husband and will never come to see us again.”
Bronson pulled the watch from his pocket. Twenty-two minutes. “If I see her, I’ll tell her good-bye for you. It’s getting dark so maybe you should go on home.”
The girl let out a sad sigh. “Okay.” She turned and started back across the road. “I’m Marie. Tell her I just wanted to give her another hug.” She stood in thought for a few seconds. “Maybe she is at the graveyard.”
“Graveyard? Why would she be at a graveyard?”
The girl shrugged. “I don’t know. But she goes there to visit someone a lot. She and Mrs. Lamric and Mr. Lamric.”
Bronson watched her turn, and step off the road, up onto the path from where she had come. “Little girl, ah, Marie,” he called. “Where is the graveyard?”
She pointed and then was gone.
He looked down the road, the direction she pointed and remembered seeing some stones. That was right where he parked the car.
And then he remembered the poem, in the letter.
He followed virtue
As his truest guide
Lived as a Christian
As a Christian died.
Of course. Words chiseled on a gravestone. He told her where she was to be. Somehow she must have known of this place. And that’s where she’ll be at 7:00.
He looked at his pocket watch again and started walking toward the graveyard.
Chapter 62
Friday ~ November 12, 1943
Anne huddled with Elizabeth behind a three-foot high grave marker. The sun was down and the moon was rising above the trees. A car sat nearby. His, she was sure. She pulled out her watch and pressed the light button. It was 6:55.
She prayed.
Elizabeth started making noises and Anne tried her best to quiet her, cooing to her and softly singing nursery rhymes. She prayed that they weren’t loud enough to be heard.
“Where’s James?” She whispered, almost too loudly that it scared her. Where is James? She thought. He was supposed to be here a half hour ago. Where the hell is he? She lit her watch again. 6:56.
Even with the full moon, James still had trouble picking his way along the pot-marked road. The moon shadows cast by the trees made holes invisible. Despite the chill of the night, sweat poured off his brow and ran down his back. He ran and walked and ran again, stepped in a pothole and twisted his ankle. He waited for the pain to subside, then continued, the limping gradually going away. There was nothing going to stop him. But, he was scared he was going to get there too late and he wasn’t going to be able to say good-bye. As he turned the bend and was able to see straight down the long stretch of Monck’s Corner Road, he could see a glow of lights. At first he thought he was too late. He thought it was happening and he could see it happening but it was too far away for him to get there in time. He began running as hard as he could. And as he ran he realized that the lights were that of a car. It was turning slowly, illuminating the trees. He slowed to a fast walk for a minute, trying to regain his breath, watching the car closely.
James was about 50 yards away when he saw the glow in the graveyard. He watched it grow; not very bright but enough that you could see it from a distance away. Like a soft candle illuminating the trees. And then he saw Anne with Elizabeth Anne bundled in her arms. She moved quickly into the glow and sat on the ground. She made herself as small as possible.
The driver of the car also saw. He swung the vehicle’s lights onto her, got out and dashed into his headlights.
Oh, God, James thought. It’s Bronson, and he started running. He forgot about exhaustion. He forgot about the burning in his lungs and legs.
Anne saw Bronson also and screamed “No!” and then pleaded aloud, “Come on Steven, do it now. NOW, Damn it! Do it NOW!”
Bronson stepped into the graveyard, pausing for several seconds trying to figure out what was going on, and then realizing he needed to move quickly, began to run forward into the light to grab her. She shrank down even further, expecting his hands. Instead she heard James’ voice yell, “NO!” and looked up in time to see him hit Bronson hard, driving him past her, into the dirt. Bronson came up first, running toward Anne. James clipped his foot. He fell and James was on top of him. Bronson pushed James off and then they were both on their feet again. Bronson was quick, surprising James who was big and strong. But Bronson was well trained in hand-to-hand combat. They exchanged blows for a number of seconds while Anne watched, willing for Steven to complete the time jump and take her and Elizabeth out. Bronson circled slowly until he found his opportunity then rushed James, hitting him hard with his full body.
James couldn’t believe he was unable to overpower this man. He fought with everything he had but Bronson took it all and gave back more. Then, Bronson drove in at him hard, slammed him backwards until his foot hooked a tree root. He felt himself falling with no way to turn to protect himself, Bronson on top of him as he fell. He knew there was a gravestone behind him and that he had to protect his head, but it was too late and no place to go.
When James’ head hit the gravestone marker and then he didn’t move, Bronson leaped to his feet and swiftly turned to go after Anne. While they were fighting she had thought through this possible scenario, knew what she had to do and now, didn’t hesitate. Rougher than she wanted to be, she placed Elizabeth Anne in the middle of the circle and then dashed into the woods. She knew she wouldn’t get far against Bronson’s long legs, but she didn’t care. Escape wasn’t her intention. She just needed time to let the system work, time to let Steven complete the time jump and take Elizabeth Anne home. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Bronson moving in after her. Thank you, God, thank you; she wanted to say out loud. Bronson had no need of Elizabeth Anne. She counted on that. She dodged to her left and a bush hit her in the face. Too dark to be running like this, even with the moonlight, and car lights. Too many shadows. Like running blind. She ran anyway. She heard him swear – probably the same bush. She sensed a fallen tree in her way, turned right and suddenly was on the ground, pain shooting up from her ankle. She tried to get back up but th
e pain was like daggers twisting and turning. Her right foot wouldn’t take the weight and there were too many roots and too much brush to hop on one foot even in the daylight let alone in the dark of the night in the woods. The light thrown from Bronson’s headlights seemed to create more shadows than light. She fell again. Before being able to get up she felt his hand grab her painful ankle. She kicked out with her other foot and connected somewhere. He swore again and let loose. She started crawling as fast as she could. She knew it was only a matter of time. She hoped it was only a matter of time. Why was it taking so long? She couldn’t see Elizabeth Anne, couldn’t even see where she had left her. Just stay on the move she said to herself. A few more seconds.
Just keep going.
More time.
Her hand found a tree root and she pulled herself forward. She felt his hands on her and as she turned on her back to kick again the forest seemed to light up. Bronson looked up to see what the light was. She pulled her good leg up to her chest, heard Elizabeth scream and with a power she didn’t know she had, caught him square in the chest, and threw him back into a bush full of thistles and thorns. She didn’t move again. Bronson was swearing things she didn’t even know existed, but what was beauty to her eyes and music to her ears was the light and Elizabeth Anne’s crying.
Anne just lay and waited, watching and listening.
It grew dark again except for Bronson’s car lights.
It grew quiet again except for Bronson’s thrashing and swearing.
She smiled and prayed. Prayed that Steven did it right. Prayed that Elizabeth Anne made it home.
Chapter 63
Thursday ~ November 12, 1987
Fourteen people. A crowd. Once each member found their station – Dr. Hair between Steven and Howard, Thomas at the power distribution station, Broad Horizons in chairs from the conference room, as out of the way as possible, and James next to the door – it didn’t feel quite so crowded.
It was deathly quiet underneath the low level pitch from the idling equipment, the pitch that would soon turn to a piercing scream. From his position, James could see everything except the power plant. But the only thing he was going to be interested in was the bull’s-eye and the glass cubicle – the time machine they all called it now. Jerry officially designated it the transfer station. Thomas maintained the power distribution station. Clyde and Peter were inside the power plant where James couldn’t see. Michael, Howard, Dr. Hair, and Steven were at the fifteen-foot control panel – Steven on the end nearest the transfer station. Jerry floated behind the last four men. James turned his eyes from the clock and looked again at the CEO of Broad Horizons, at the features that were so familiar.
Atlanta? James remembered Jerry saying they were paid out of an Atlanta bank. Would that mean Broad Horizons had its office in Atlanta? He searched his memory for contacts he had made in his police years with anyone in the huge Georgia city.
Suddenly, he found Samuelson Frick looking back at him. James held the eye contact for only a few seconds before both their attentions were grabbed by Jerry’s voice.
“Bring it up.”
As James’ attention turned toward the bull’s-eye, he understood that Frick knew him as well.
But, from where?
The bull’s-eye was one of the additions since Dr. Hair came on board – another of his brainchildren. “In a sense,” Robert said, “the subject will travel in a bubble, and we can see what’s in the bubble, or the mass, that is, by monitoring its glow. Glow is a simple word to describe a force the bubble emanates when there’s mass inside of it. This glow can be metered here.” So Robert Hair built a bull’s-eye. It was made up of circles of colored lights – white on the outer ring, soft yellow on the second, progressing through yellows, oranges, and reds until it was bright red at the innermost ring, eleven in total. There was one large green light in the center. The “Go” light. It indicated that whatever was in the bubble was locked and stable, meaning it was settled and not moving.
“Engage!” Jerry ordered.
Steven flipped a switch and the low hum from the equipment rose slightly. The white outer ring slowly came up. After several seconds the green light came on. They were locked and stable but the glowing white ring indicated the bubble was empty. Each ring represented 20 kilograms of mass. The red inner ring represented the maximum mass of 200 kilograms.
All eyes were on the bull’s-eye.
James held his breath, felt his heart beating against his chest and remembered seeing her rise from her hiding place and drop into the circle of light.
The lights ran up to the fifth ring, the fourth ring still glowed – exactly as Robert had calculated. The green light went out. James’ heart was no longer beating; it was pounding. He breathed and held, felt the sweat pop out on his arms.
The green light came on.
Anne was settled, ready. They could do it now, but they won’t – must be stable for ten seconds – some rule based on reasoning James didn’t understand. He had argued against it but they paid him no mind.
The seconds moved so slowly they nearly stopped.
Seven. He watched the circle of lights.
Eight. Anytime.
Nine. The lights jumped to the tenth ring and James sensed the tension in the room jump with it. He could feel the burning in his chest as he remembered surging past the car, seeing Bronson turn and brace and then driving into him. Like knocking over a brick wall. He went down; they just barely got out of the bubble.
Keep him busy until she’s gone, James remembered thinking and could feel every blow given and received. The circle dropped to ring four and five again. He could see Steven, Jerry and Robert looking at each other with the “What the hell was that?” expression on their faces.
Then Jerry looked at James, and James could feel the question. “What next?” James shrugged his shoulders and the green light came on. Stable somewhere between sixty and eighty kilograms.
“Take them now!” James wanted to yell but instead only whispered it. His hand went up to the back of his head where he hit the gravestone. Was it real or a very active memory? The pain was pounding – pounding in his head, in his chest. Sweat poured down his face.
Take them now!
The lights dropped to the white ring, the green light went out, and James felt more pain. He was struggling to breathe, struggling to focus on the bull’s-eye, struggling to not admit that Bronson won.
Come back – come back, he urged the colored light, but only the green light came back and he suddenly noticed the second ring, the pale yellow circle of lights was glowing. Something was still in the bubble.
The seconds dragged by.
Ten seconds. But obviously, Anne wasn’t in there.
Could it be...? James thought and then noticed Samuelson had left his chair and was standing between Robert and Steven, and over the whine of equipment James could hear him.
“Take her now!” Samuelson yelled.
Everyone looked at Jerry who looked at the bull’s-eye, the clock, and then at James, sweat pouring off his brow. And then Samuelson’s eyes came around to James and in that very second James understood. The only person who could possibly know what was happening this very second 44 years ago while James lay unconscious, was standing before him. With pain slamming through his head, through his chest at every racing beat of his heart, James nodded to Jerry, nodded his concurrence.
Jerry looked again between Samuelson and James and then made a signal to the waiting scientists and said into his mike, “Bring her in.”
The whine rose once again in time with an intense light from the transfer bubble.
And then the light faded away, the equipment dropped to a low whine, the bull’s-eye returned to the white ring, Elizabeth Annabelle Waring screamed, and James felt more pain. His knees hit the floor.
Chapter 64
Friday ~ November 12, 1943
By the time Bronson untangled himself from the bush into which Anne kicked him, she had herself propped
against a tree, flexing her ankle and biting her lip against the pain. As she felt him looming back toward her she said, “I’m not going to fight you any more. I’ll go with you.”
He stopped and looked down at her, as if not knowing what to do, not knowing whether to believe her. “Get up!”
“I can’t. I may have broken my ankle.” She exaggerated, or at least hoped she exaggerated. The pain in her voice was very real. She couldn’t see his expression in the shadow, but she sensed he was making a face at the situation. She may be giving up but she wasn’t going to make it easy. After all, maybe James wasn’t seriously hurt and he was right now laying in wait near the car or sneaking up on Bronson. Keep him busy. Keep his attention, just in case. “Trust me or not. If I could have, I would have run while you were trying to get out of the bushes. I can’t stand up.” She gently ran her fingers around the swollen ankle. “So, just give me a minute and I’ll try to get up.”
He stepped toward her. “Then I’ll help you.”
She held out her hand, palm out. “No! I’ll do it myself.” She knew she was going to require help but if there was any chance at all, she needed to continue buying time.
He stepped back.
She rolled slowly to her left, looking for a handhold. He backed off, she thought to herself. Some kind of a dirty, low-down, no-good bastard of a Nazi spy this guy is. A real killer. She almost laughed. She figured out in those few seconds, who was in control. A real bad guy spy would have grabbed her and dragged her out of the woods, maybe knocked her unconscious and thrown her in the trunk. But here he was, just standing, waiting. A bad guy with a heart.
Not being able to find something to hold on to, Anne rolled herself to her hands and knees, and then waited for the throbbing to recede. Bronson offered his hand again and this time she accepted, pulling herself up on one foot to a standing position. Leaning on his arm, she tried walking but daggers of pain accompanied each step. She stopped and leaned hard on his arm. There was no sign of James. She tried walking again but the pain was much too bad. Maybe I really did break it, she thought.
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