Time Twist

by Jeanie R. Davis

  Squelching a scream, she used her arms and good knee to scoot, but the pain was unbearable. Fear ripped at her. She wanted to cry, but even her tears seemed too frightened to fall. She felt him bearing down on her.

  “Help!” she yelled as loud as she could.

  “Holler all you want. You’ll get no aid from beggars.” The moon lit Mr. Somers’ black eyes. His evil glare speared right through her.

  “Just leave me here. Go! Just leave me here! You don’t have to do—”

  “Shut your mouth!” He grabbed her arm and began dragging her toward the park. She winced at the intense pain that slashed through her limbs bumping along the gravel. Her leg bent at odd angles as it bobbed roughly along. She pushed her free hand against the road to slow his progress, causing asphalt to bite into her flesh. She clenched her teeth, refusing to cry out.

  Finally, they reached the park. The grass, blessedly softer than the road, was at least bearable through which to be dragged.

  Ari tried to pull away, but her injured leg caused her to whimper.

  “Hush.” Mr. Somers hauled her back and wrapped his arm around her neck, clapping his hand over her mouth. He felt his pocket with his free hand. “If only I had my gun, this would all be over by now.”

  She tried to scream, but nothing got past the hand over her mouth. She flailed her arms every which way attempting to free herself or attract attention. Searing pain shot up her leg. But the vacant park was still—no more witnesses to stop him from killing her.

  “I guess I will just have to dispose of you the old-fashioned way—with my hands. Then I can search your dead body for the piece you broke off my machine.” Mr. Somers sneered at her, a wicked gleam in his black eyes. She let out a choking sound as his hands tightened around her neck.

  Her world began to fade.

  “You looking for this?”

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Christopher cocked the gun he had trained on his father. Mr. Somers jerked around, swinging Arianna with him. The anguish on her face nearly undid Chris, and the odd angle of her injured leg fueled the fire already burning in his chest. He had to keep his anger in check so she wouldn’t get killed as a result of his recklessness.

  His father yanked her directly in front of him and slouched, making her a shield. “How did you get here?” he bellowed. His face contorted in a mixture of anger and confusion.

  “Stop cowering behind Arianna and let her go.” Christopher advanced toward them.

  “If you come any closer, I will snap her neck.” He had one hand covering Ari’s mouth, while the other still closed around her throat.

  Christopher stopped moving. “If you kill her, who will shield you from me?” His voice increased in volume. “Let her go!”

  His father’s eyes darted around, clearly searching for something. Christopher realized what it was. “Even if you find your device and take her to another time or place, you will not have enough of your chemical cocktail to get back, so let her go!” It was a bluff—any straw to cling to. He speared his father with a determined glare.

  Mr. Somers’ face twitched. His grip tightened around Ari’s throat. “Where is it? Where is my machine?”

  Christopher tilted his head and narrowed his gaze. “I stumbled upon your device, and it appears to be broken.”

  Arianna signaled with her eyes, which shot down and to the side. He dropped his gaze to where she looked. Something slightly bulged in her pants pocket. Bravo, Ari.

  “I’m your father, Christopher. Put the gun down.”

  “You’ve not been my father for the past four years. Or is it two hundred and four years? I distinctly remember you disowning me in Denver.”

  “You know you’ll not kill me. You don’t have the stomach. You weren’t even willing to help me when it was for your mother—we had nothing.” Father shifted his weight and narrowed his eyes.

  Christopher’s voice rose again. “We had nothing because of you.”

  “How can you say that? I nearly worked myself into an early grave trying to provide for you, and this is how you show your gratitude?”

  “An early grave would have been preferable to what you’ve become.”

  “I have become the wealthiest, most powerful man in the world!”

  “To whom? To Mother? To Sarah? Or Joshua? Your prisoners? They think you are a monster! All they’ve ever wanted was for you to be a husband and father to them. Now they despise you. How long do you plan to keep them under lock and key? Until you die? Until they die?”

  He realized he may have gone too far as he saw Arianna’s eyes close, then crack open again. “Stop being a coward and let her go! She’s not to blame for any of your failures!”

  Mr. Somers’ face glowed beet-red under light from the gibbous moon, his eyes wild. Christopher feared that pushing him any further would get Arianna killed. In this altered state, his father was not about to hand her over.

  Keeping the gun trained on his father, he worked his way toward the devices. He used his foot to nudge each out to be within Father’s view, then stepped in front of them. His father watched his every move.

  Picking up the vest, he reached into one of the pockets and removed the extra beakers of formula. After he tossed them back toward the bigger machine, he held the vest in front of him.

  “I have both machines in my possession. If you let Arianna go, I will give you the vest.”

  Confusion crossed Father’s face as Christopher began to approach him. “Is this some sort of trap, son?”

  Christopher winced at the word “son,” but chose to let it slide. “No trap. I just need you to let her go.”

  “What is she to you? You risked your life coming here to find us—for what? Think of the money. We can leave her here and go home and share my wealth. Think about what you are doing.”

  “Do you really believe I’m searching for wealth and power? They’ve made you into a monster!” Christopher bit back the rest of the words he longed to say. “Now, if you let her go, you can have the vest.”

  Angry darts leapt from Mr. Somers’ black eyes. His jaw clenched and unclenched. “You never answered my question. Why do you care about what happens to the girl?” He loosened his grasp on Ari ever so slightly. She gulped air, filling her lungs.

  “Her name is Arianna, and the reason I risked my life to find her—” He glanced down and swallowed over the lump in his throat. He looked back up and locked eyes with Ari’s. “The reason I risked my life is because I love her.”

  He watched as a tear slipped down Arianna’s swollen cheek. His heart ached for her.

  Mr. Somers blanched. He seemed genuinely surprised. “You—you what? How do you even know her? She’s the interior designer—my designer.”

  Christopher, taking advantage of his father’s shock, moved a few steps forward, holding out the vest. His father grabbed at it, but Christopher jerked it out of his reach. “First, release Arianna.”

  His father shoved Ari to the ground hard and charged at Christopher.

  He held the vest close, but realized, too late, the vest wasn’t what Father was after. Mr. Somers wrested the gun from Christopher’s fingers and aimed it at him.

  “No son should point a gun at his father. What kind of man did I raise?” He growled, then shook his head. “I must have taken temporary leave of my senses. I nearly forgot—you’re not a man.” He shoved the revolver into Christopher’s chest.

  Christopher closed his eyes.

  With a deafening crack, the gun fired. His world went black.

  “Christopher!” Ari’s tortured voice rang out. “Christopher!”

  A haze of confusion settled in his brain. “Ari?” He tried to move but found himself pinned to the ground. He worked an arm free and realized the complete darkness was his father laying prostrate on him. He pushed the bulk up and rolled out from beneath him. Propped against a tree, Ari balanced on one leg above them, wielding a bulky branch. Her eyes were huge with fear and pain.

  “You’re alive? I hit
him, but the gun went off…” Her voice hitched into a sob.

  Christopher picked up the vest. A bullet shook loose. “The metal—the vest saved my life.” He raised his eyes to hers. “And you.”

  She looked at the piece of wood in her trembling hands and let it drop. “You—you should get the gun before he comes to.”

  “Right.” He found the revolver and handed it to Ari, then tugged his father’s arms through the holes of the vest. “Ari, I got word from Denver. It’s good.”

  Her forehead creased. “What are you—”

  His father grunted, rubbing the knot forming on his skull. He pulled himself to his feet and shot a baleful look at Ari. “You foolish girl!” Seeing the gun in her hands, his face contorted. “What business do you have meddling in our affairs? Do you really mean to challenge me, wench?”

  “You—you killed my family.” She held the gun steady.

  “You have no proof of that.”

  “She doesn’t, but I do.” Christopher pulled an envelope from his pocket. “You’re coming back with us to face charges for vehicular homicide.” Christopher moved in behind him.

  Mr. Somers sneered. “My son and the designer. Such a thing would never happen where I came from.” He turned and spat, then grabbed Christopher by the shirt. His hand clamped around Christopher’s neck. The foul stench of alcohol caused bile to rise in Christopher’s throat. He tried to swallow it down, but his father’s grip was too firm.

  Ari raised the gun and aimed it at Mr. Somers’ head. “Let him go.” She cocked it.

  He hesitated, then released Christopher, slowly lowering his hands to his sides. Ari kept the gun in place. “How dare you?” he hissed. “I’ll go nowhere with you.” He reached into the vest pocket and pushed the buttons to start a transport. The vibrations began.

  With a jolt, Mr. Somers and the machine were gone.

  “Where did he go?” Ari collapsed to her knees. “He needs to pay for killing my family!”

  Christopher gathered her in his arms. “If he makes his way back, we’ve got what we need to arrest him.”

  She slouched in his arms and cried softly. He held her close, burying his face in her hair, he wished to weep with her.

  He kept his arms wrapped around her for several long moments. Her fingers dug into his flesh as if he might disappear. “I’m so sorry, Arianna. I am so, so sorry.” As he held her back to check her injuries, he shook his head at all the cuts and abrasions on her face, arms and hands. “Is your leg broken?”

  “I think so.”

  He scanned the area and found a discarded sign protesting the Vietnam War, broke the wooden part off and formed a splint. She grimaced, and a low moan escaped her as he carefully straightened the crooked limb.

  Once he’d done all he could to prepare her for the journey home, he gingerly lifted her onto the disc-shaped machine. She handed him the dial she’d hidden in her pocket. He found a compartment on the device containing tools and glued the dial in its place again. Picking up the wire, which had fallen and lay on the disc, he reattached it to the dial in the same manner as the other wires.

  “What would you have done if you couldn’t fix the device?” Ari asked. Her fading voice sounded weaker by the moment. He needed to get her home and to a hospital.

  He caressed her cheek, taking care to avoid the open wounds. “Being deserted in a foreign place and time isn’t exactly new to me. At least I’d be with you.” He kissed her forehead. “Let’s go home, love.”

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  The hospital hallway light flickered. Christopher shifted his weight, impatient to get to back to Arianna.

  “Like I said, I had an arrest warrant for Mr. Somers, but didn’t know where to find him. After receiving a call from Miss Miller’s worried boss, I realized he might be at his new home. I drove to the Somers’ house and found Mr. Somers—”

  “Your father,” said the uniformed officer.

  “Yes. I found my father attacking her.” He shot a glance at the room behind him.

  “Sorry, Officer Flemming. It’s, you know, for the report.” Officer Barrett scribbled something on a clipboard.

  “I know. I’m anxious to see how she’s doing.”

  “I’ll hurry this along, then. What happened next?”

  “I pulled out my service revolver and told Mr. Somers to let her go. A tussle ensued. Mr. Somers got the gun, then Ari hit him with a tree branch. However, it only stunned him.”

  “You were in the yard, then?”

  “Yes.” Christopher hated to lie, but he didn’t want to get into the whole time-traveling conversation. He especially wished to keep his mother and siblings out of the story—what a spectacle they’d become if anyone learned of their nineteenth century roots. They’d suffered enough. “Then Mr. Somers fled. I don’t know where he is, but he is very much alive.” Christopher finished his narrative of the events that had brought them to the hospital.

  “I think that should do it.” Officer Barrett handed the clipboard to Christopher. “Sign there on the bottom, then you can get back to Ms. Miller.”

  Christopher pulled a chair next to Arianna. More questions would surely arise about the attack, but for now, he wished only to be near her.

  A nurse with a bulbous nose sashayed into the sterile room. “Would you care for a pillow, sir?” Her nasally voice pierced through Christopher’s aching head.

  “Thank you, no.” He didn’t intend to sleep while he watched over Ari.

  “She isn’t going to wake up any time soon. Not with the sedative Dr. Woodruff gave her. You may as well get some rest.” She tapped her foot on the linoleum.

  “Very well.” Christopher took the pillow just to end the conversation. He wondered how the nurse expected him to sleep in a room filled with beeping machines, zigzagging lights and heavy smells assaulting his senses. Not to mention, the girl he deeply cared for lay bruised and broken on a hospital bed. His father put her there. If only he had stopped him sooner. No, Christopher didn’t plan on so much as closing an eye. He tossed the pillow onto the sofa against the wall.

  His gaze traveled the path from Ari’s black eye across the gash on her swollen cheek, then down to the angry, red welts in the shape of his father’s fingers circling her neck. He bent and kissed her hand, careful not to jostle her bandaged arm. The vision of the doctor painstakingly plucking gravel from her torn flesh made him shudder. He was relieved she’d slept through the procedure.

  “She’s lucky, you know.”

  Christopher startled. Why was the nurse still in the room intruding on his private thoughts? “How can you call her lucky?” He narrowed his eyes at the woman.

  “She looks terrible now, but doc says she’ll likely heal without much scarring. And, well, we won’t know until the swelling goes down, but if her leg doesn’t require surgery, she’ll be out of here in a couple days.” She pumped her eyebrows.

  Christopher stared at her. He had no response.

  She continued, “And those wretched welts on her neck”—she shook her head—“I’d say she’s lucky to be alive.”

  Lucky or not, it sickened him to see Ari so bruised and battered. He would gladly take her place.

  The nurse, silent in her soft-soled shoes, moved closer and peered down at Ari. “Who in the world would do such a thing to this poor girl? He must be a monster.” She let out a groan. “I mean, look at her face—”

  “Ma’am—”

  “Peggy. Just call me Peggy.” Her high-pitched voice grated like fingernails on a chalkboard.

  Christopher took a calming breath. “Peggy, isn’t there anyone else you should be attending to?”

  “Nope. Not at the moment.” She sidled even closer to Ari and let out a tsk. “I’ll bet she was a beauty before—”

  He closed his eyes to squelch the anger simmering below the surface. “I think I’ll attempt a nap now.”

  Peggy’s head snapped up. “You want me to leave?”

  He said nothing.

  “Hum
ph.” Peggy turned and stomped out of the room.

  Exhaling a breath of relief, he reclaimed his seat next to Ari. With care, he pushed a lock of hair from her face. “I’m sorry you’re here. Can you forgive me, love?” He kissed her forehead and watched the rise and fall of her chest, worried that if he took his eyes off her, she might stop breathing.

  “Christopher?” He looked up to see Tasha in the doorway. She crossed the room, her eyes growing wider with each step.

  “Tasha. I told you I’d stay the night.”

  “It’s eight o’clock in the morning.” Her lips curved up in a sad smile. “I’d say you should go home and get some rest, but I’m concerned about the Somers…er… your family.”

  A low moan escaped his throat. “I nearly forgot they were in Pueblo. I must find them”—he swallowed hard—“and deliver the news of my father’s, uh, absence.” He looked down at Ari, longing to stay with her.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll sit right here with her. You go now.” She squeezed Christopher’s arm. “Thank you for saving her life.”

  He nodded. “Thank you, Tasha, for being here for Ari.” His eyes lingered on Ari’s face. “Take care of her.”

  Chapter Sixty

  Two days later, Tasha helped Ari into her own bed, in her own apartment. “I wish I could stay until Saturday when the other three get here to help you move, but I have meetings I can’t miss. I’ll be back in a couple days.” She leaned Ari’s crutches against the wall near enough for her to reach.

  Ari sank into the sheets, grateful to be out of the hospital.

  “You seem to be getting around on these amazingly well, especially for having bruised ribs. Thank goodness your injuries weren’t more severe.” Tasha scanned the room. “There’s a water bottle, your phone and some snacks.” She motioned to the nightstand weighed down by things Ari might need. “Oh, and Christopher sent those.” Tasha pointed to the dresser where a bouquet of yellow roses beamed like a vase full of happiness.