“Ernest Hemingway, I'd like to introduce Sandy O'Connor.”
“She's the one?”
“Nope. But that's a different part of the story. Maybe we'll get a chance to go through it all. I'd like your opinion.”
“Well, you have to find Fritz soon. He may be sending some of those ripples backwards. The Germans are starting to get aggressive again. Some fellow named Hitler is gathering a crowd, something about making Germany great again.”
“You need to go, Hemingway. Classes are about to end and this hall will be full of kids. And I can't be sure I can get you back. So go now. I'll see you again.”
“I guess I'm the one for whom the bell tolls. Nice meeting you, Sandy.” I shook his hand and nudged him back to Shakespeare and Co. Just as he stepped into the bookstore, he waved. As I shut the door, the bell rang and thunder flickered the lights.
“Glad you could make it, Sandy. See you later. I have a class now.” She stood statue-like in the middle of the hall.
With a rumbling background, my last classes were as animated as the earlier ones. My meeting with George lingered. Like a guillotine. My objective, finding Fritz, required a new strategy. Not getting fired now topped other priorities. Groveling would be an essential tactic. For a moment, I pondered Chief Shaw's comment. How much did he know? Had Sandy contacted him? A blazing flash and a tremendous crash shook the building and brought my attention back to my last class.
“You can start on homework. I'm going to the office. I want you all safe because tomorrow's question will be even better.” Not stopping to respond to raised hands, I ran down the hall, as another rumble flashed the hall lights off. In my head, I could hear the admonition about not running in the halls.
With a mere few minutes until the final bell, I stepped into the lightless office. George guarded his doorway. I told him he might want to suggest that the students without a ride home should stay inside until they could contact a parent or wait in the gym. I told him that an announcement would show his concern for their safety.
“What is it with you? All of a sudden, you care about them.” Another nearby clap of thunder made him jump. After a quick glance out the window, he turned his reddening face back to me. “Ms. Sweeney, please contact Coach Kennedy and ask if he will gather the gym teachers and have them keep the gym open until the storms are over.” Turning to me, he said, “I'll expect you here shortly,” and shut his office door in my face.
The lights returned as I reached my room just before the end of class. George's announcement just beat the bell. “Since when does he care?” one student commented to universal agreement.
“He just said how much he cares, in spite of how it might seem. All the teachers do, too.”
“Yeah, right. Mr. Gilbert, you just stopped a knife fight, but all the teachers just stood around. You expect us to think they care?”
Next stop—George, but first a quick check of my doorknob. In spite of the storms, off and on all day, no finger tingle. As I walked to the office, how much more trouble I had brought on myself by offering to help the kids ran around my brain. And how did Hemingway know about our visits in other dimensions than this one? Ms. Sweeney said to go in. Chief Shaw sat in the third chair.
“Sit down,” George grumbled. I did. “Why do you think I have rules about teachers avoiding fights between students?”
“Tell me.”
“I can't easily replace staff,” he huffed. “These animals don't care who or what they damage. If teachers are involved, I have reports, insurance issues, and explanations to the superintendent. I don't like any of that. And you make me do it all.”
“George, I'm sorry. But that's the second fight in the past few days. We don't know when or if they'll turn on a teacher.”
“Like they did on you today,” said Shaw. “Mr. McAllister, I've stayed away from school politics, but this stuff has been happening since my student days here. I can't be here constantly and as fast as we arrive, a knife or God forbid, a bullet only takes seconds. Let's clean this place out and clean it up.”
“How do I do that?” George barked. He leaned back, as far away from the chief as he could. He hadn't had time to turn red.
Shaw's eyes glowed with the chance to make a difference. “Get the kids and teachers on the same page. Let them all know—no more acceptance and no exceptions. Rally your staff. Tell them a new day has come to Riverboro High School.”
George scratched his head, swiveling from Shaw to me and back. Shaw said, “If you'd like some help, I'm sure plenty of teachers will spread the word.” I didn't volunteer because I hoped I would be home, and a flash outside made my wish even stronger.
He started to talk, but only a burst of air left his mouth, and he closed it again. The window rattled from another thunderclap. “Do you really think it can work? I've always run things the same way.”
Shaw said, “Times have changed, Mr. McAllister. Kids are smarter, they get it, and they have technology I never had only ten years ago. Get started now, before the holidays, and you may have a whole different place for the New Year. Now if we're done, please excuse us. I have some further questions I'd like to ask Mr. Gilbert.”
As Shaw and I walked to my classroom, he said, “You're an idiot, stepping into a knife fight.” I rolled up my shirt sleeve as he gaped at the scar on my arm. I rehashed the story of my first summer, and the fight I'd stopped at the beach, in a different world.
“Twenty-six stitches,” I bragged.
“You're still an idiot.”
“Well this time, I had my jacket to protect me. But on a different subject, I think these kids can be turned, Jim, I mean, Brian. I've had only a few days, but I've never been this excited about teaching. It's going to be better.” The hall became a tiled cave when thunder cut the lights, but a flash just outside lit the hallway. He proceeded to the parking lot, and as soon as he drove away, I tapped my doorknob.
The shock stung my fingers, but I didn't have much time. Thunderstorms in December offered a limited opportunity. Without company, I could test the portal later. The rain had started, and one step out the door and I was soaked. I glanced up to be sure I hadn't stepped under a bucket full of water. Sandy had seen me leave and pulled me out of the downpour. I had to choose to take her with me now or hope I could open the portal later that evening.
“Ashley, I'm sorry I didn't believe you. But you have to admit, your story is unbelievable.”
Another flash and trying a trip now made sense. “Do you want to meet Robert E. Lee?”
“Ashley?”
“Forget it. I still have work to do. So if you want to come, I'm going now.”
“Robert E. Lee? Where are we going?”
“Gettysburg. I think Fritz will try to connect with him. I want to let the general know, and find out if he's seen him.” I set the paperclip, laid the book on the desk, and returned to the hall. I pulled and my desk stared out.
“No key.” I jammed the right one in the desk lock. “Come on.” This time, we stood at the door of Lee's headquarters, facing bayonets. The haze of an artillery barrage blurred our view. I asked them to tell General Lee that Ashley Gilbert requested to meet with him. “He's expecting me.” I hoped that would buy a moment and prevent being shot. We were still almost two years before Fritz first met him.
When the door opened, a tired general stood looking at us. “Well, I can't say I expected you, Mr. Gilbert, but do come in.”
“General, allow me to introduce Sandra O'Connor. She's also a teacher.”
He ushered us to chairs and sat at a table covered by a map of the area around Gettysburg. “I'm about to begin a great battle, Mr. Gilbert. I don't have much time.”
Sandy asked the only question that made sense to her. “Is this real?” The general chuckled, and asked me if she was a new traveler. I told him she had just found out, but with little time left, I pressed on.
“General, something's gone wrong with the portal. Fritz is in some other dimension. I'm looking for him. Ha
ve you seen him?”
“You may be correct. I have noticed that my planning is going awry. For some reason, time has become erratic. Why just yesterday, a coordinated advance was to begin in the morning, but we were unable to move until late afternoon. No one can explain why, as if time somehow jumped. But you're being here is strange since we don't meet until two years from now, and yet I know you.”
“Fritz must have done something to scramble time, space or both. I don't know where to look, but I guessed he would come to you.”
“No, not yet.” He scanned the table top. “But he'll be at the McLean farmhouse in Appomattox when I surrender to General Grant.”
“Do you know what's going to happen? Everything?”
“I do. I have for a few weeks. My dreams were at first disturbed. But now, waking, I can see down my life line. And if you get the opportunity, please give my regards to the president.”
“I have so many questions. How did this happen?” Before he answered, his door opened, and Major Taylor said that General Pickett waited outside.
“I'm afraid that I am out of time, Mr. Gilbert. I have no idea what has happened. It is, after all, your portal.”
Sandy stood like a sculpture, looking from my door back to me. I opened the door, this time to my classroom. I invited her in. As if in a trance, she took a seat.
“Was that real?”
“I don't know. He can see his future. But he'll see Fritz, so I have a clue. I just don't know in what dimension they'll be.”
“Ashley, it's December, but I could feel the heat and humidity. Did you smell the air?” She took a deep breath. “Nothing now, but they all smelled like they hadn't bathed in months, even Lee. The stink of horses and manure and gunpowder hung in the air.” She sniffed her sleeve. “It's gone now.”
“You can't say anything to anyone, Sandy. If you do, you put us both in danger. The Ashley who you know can't open the portal. If I find Fritz and if we can return to my time, he'll be back, I think. You can get him killed. You can't even tell your husband. Promise me.”
“No one would believe me.”
“Someone would, and if they find out, they'll want to use the portal. They'll look for someone who can. I don't know if anyone else can or how it will happen. But I think each dimension has similarities, just at different times.” I glanced at the other books while we chatted. “Do you want to come with me again? I have to keep looking.”
“You've given me a lot to absorb. I don't know if I should.”
“Then you need to leave. If these storms end, I can't open the portal. I'll have to wait until another one, maybe until spring.”
“Where are you going next?”
“Appomattox.” But Fritz didn't go there, not according to the books he picked. I needed to think, alone. How did he get there from wherever he was? Could he time-travel on a different time line? Did Lee really meet him there? The book Fritz had used to get to Lee's office and to Appomattox wasn't on the book shelves.
“Well, are we going?”
“Not yet. Not to Appomattox.” If Fritz had caused this jumble of time, how would he do it? I picked up the book about Hitler.
“You're biting your lip, Ash. Why?”
“I wonder. If Fritz killed Hitler, that would have changed the world. The first time I saw Hitler, Fritz had already entered the portal, but I was still home. If Fritz went back, he would need to cross dimensions. That would mean he found another portal.”
“Then, let's go look. I'll go with you.”
“I'll be gone for a second. You'll be able to see if you hold the door.” I put the book in place, checked the paperclips, and we went into the hall. Tapping the knob, I told her to hold the door but not to touch the doorknob. “It's still live.” I didn't know if that would matter. I pulled the door and stepped through. As before, Hitler stood at the open window, looking up. When my footsteps disturbed him, he stared wide-eyed at me. He began speaking.
“I speak English,” I said. In the little German that I had learned over the years, he said he didn't. But I continued, as he walked to the bars of his cell. “I'm looking for Fritz Russell. But since you're still alive, he didn't come here. If he had, he would have shot you.” He repeated that he didn't speak English, but I didn't care. “Auf wiedersehen.” I didn't, couldn't, see the look on his face when I vanished, but wished I could. He hadn't seen me the last time I went. I'm guessing he didn't see Fritz either, but now he'd have an image to keep him company for the rest of his miserable life.
I told Sandy to shut the door, and the thought hit that I might have changed history just talking to him. He didn't speak my language, but he would know that someone who spoke English had just vanished before his eyes. “I better warn Winston.”
“What do you mean?”
“Huh?” I'd been talking to myself, but aloud.
“What do you mean 'warn Winston'?”
“I spoke English to Hitler. He'll remember that I vanished. In that paranoid brain, maybe he'll think some English-speaking country has a secret weapon. He did concentrate on England, with the bombings and V-1 and V-2 rockets. And the submarines sinking all the supply ships from America. I wonder if my visit just now had anything to do with that.”
“That's crazy. You can't blame yourself.”
“Yes. Yes, I can. I've told you the portal is dangerous. But mucking about in history is even more so because we don't know what the effect will be. One more trip.”
“Not for me. You travel all you want, but this is scary.”
“You should be in my shoes.” I chuckled at what I'd said. Fritz would be amused. I checked the time when Sandy left, both surprised and glad. Only four thirty. But the storms had weakened, so I peeked at the weather forecast on my computer. Storms ending late afternoon, it said. With not much time left, and maybe not again until spring, choosing where to go had to be deliberate.
I closed my eyes, hoping to glimpse a direction that Fritz would have taken. I walked to the windows, and looked at the nearby storm clouds, and the pink sky of sunset on the horizon. Looking closer at the thunderheads, I imagined a close-up of Churchill, sipping tea in the clouds. Fritz had once said he had looked for cloud pictures since childhood. “I'm getting to be him. This is SO weird.”
Alone, and out of time, I put the Churchill book on the desk. The portal remained open, so I stepped again into 10 Downing Street. “Ah, Gilbert, I've been waiting for you. What's taken so long?”
“So long for what, Winston?”
“You'll need to address me as Prime Minister whilst you are here. Appearances, you know. The others won't understand. But to your question. You poked your head in a few weeks ago, and I've expected you to return. You have news for me?”
“That first. I'm here to warn you. I just spoke to Hitler, in English. When he was in prison in 1924. I don't know if that will focus him on England when the war starts, but I wanted you to know, to be prepared, just in case.”
“Well, m'boy, whether it's because of you or not, that loud-mouthed paperhanger, that Nazi bastard, seems to have it in for us on our little island. But we'll survive. Did you know I'll be meeting Franklin soon. But of course you do.”
“Prime Minister.” I stopped as my words rang. Our first meeting, which hadn't happened yet, had been more glib, almost playful. My words carried more respect, more seriousness now.
“Well, go on.”
“Sorry. You know we don't meet for the first time until 1949. How do you know who I am now?”
“I'm glad you brought that up.” He flicked a two-inch ash from his cigar, puffed and blew out a long gentle stream of smoke. “Right after you were here before, I was informed that we had captured a German coding machine.”
“The Enigma.”
His brow raised, and the cigar moved to the ashtray, he nodded, a slow-motion up and down, as he appraised me. “It was then I believed we would win the war.”
“But you already knew, from when Fritz and I visited.”
“Yes
, yes, but by then the war had ended. But something else. I had a vision of our own machine.”
“The Turing machine.” From his quizzical look, I had said too much. He knew me and about my visit with Fritz, but unlike Lee, who saw his entire life line, Churchill didn't know the present, although he remembered when Fritz and I had met him in his future. I had more to think about.
“The touring machine? What does it tour?”
“It's a man's name.” I spelled it for him. “He'll be in touch with you soon, when the time is right. Winston, please don't ask me more now. I don't want to change anything else.”
“Quite right, Gilbert. But tell me, what does this machine do?”
“It breaks the German codes. It will work, but you'll need to give Mr. Turing some help. But that's not why I'm here.”
He looked at the clock and back to me. “Would you like some sherry, or perhaps some tea? You look as though you need some fortification.”
“No. Thanks just the same. Winston…” He scowled at me. “Sorry. Prime Minister, Fritz is lost in the portal. Have you seen him? Has he been here? I believe he's changed the past somehow. I need to find him and turn things around. Otherwise, you may lose the war, or the U.S. will stop sending supplies, or maybe worse.”
“That's quite a mouthful.” He stood and walked to a decanter across the room. “If that is true, we'll have a toast to you being wrong.” He handed me a small glass filled to the rim, raised his and said, “To history being correct.” He downed his in a gulp, but I took only a sip. “Drink up.”
“No. We need a different toast,” I said. He chomped on his cigar to free his hands and refilled his glass. Turning back to me and raising his glass, he waited for me. “To finding Fritz and returning time and space to its proper state.” I downed the rest. The heat radiated from my stomach, up to my head and down to my feet.
He saw my reaction and chuckled. In the gravelly voice the world would come to love, he said, “Good stuff, Gilbert. The best I can find here now. Now, I have seen Fritz, quite a while ago. Almost a year. Like you, he merely looked in. I was in a meeting, but I saw him. He smiled at me, nodded and vaporized. I think others saw him, from the ones who rubbed their eyes, but said nothing.”
The Portal At The End Of The Storm (Quantum Touch Book 6) Page 11