Sam's World

by Ann Williams

  Remembering how they’d almost gotten caught in the gardens the last time, Marina nodded and gathered Monday in her arms. She was eager to breathe fresh air and see the trees and grass again even if it was by moonlight.

  Once outside his cell, she expected Sammell to follow the same route they’d taken the first night. But he turned in another direction and moved to the back of his cell.

  “We aren’t going to the gardens?”

  “No, there is a sheltered clearing in the woods much closer than the gardens. I thought you might like to walk along the water’s edge.”

  The night air was redolent of roses. A row of bushes with dark red blossoms flourished along the side of Sammell’s cell. Marina stopped to sniff a large bloom before following on his heels.

  Throwing her head back, she gazed up at the stars. Did they look larger and brighter than she remembered, or was it only her imagination? The temperature was somewhere in the seventies and a gentle wind blew the hair back from her forehead and cheeks and kissed her bare shoulders and legs. If not for the peculiar circumstances surrounding her presence here, Marina would have thought herself in paradise.

  “Tell me,” she said, eyeing the cloudless sky, “does it ever rain here?”

  “Yes, once a week.”

  “Once a week?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Yes, on Friday at curfew.”

  “Are you serious?”

  His look asked her why she asked such a question.

  “But…I don’t understand. How do you know it’s going to rain on Friday at curfew? And every Friday?”

  “Because that is when it is scheduled. Everyone is home from school and work. Everyone is inside because of the curfew.”

  “Scheduled?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let me see if I have this right. You control the weather?”

  “Not me personally, but, yes, we control our environment. That is why we are able to grow fruits and vegetables and flowers in such abundance.”

  “How fantastic.” She didn’t know if she liked the idea of controlled rain, though the thought of never getting caught in a thunderstorm without an umbrella was appealing.

  Sammell held back a thick leafy branch, and Marina ducked beneath it. They were near the stream and hadn’t passed a single patrol.

  “Where,” she asked as Sammell ducked beneath the branch and joined her in the small clearing near the water’s edge, “are all the cops?”

  “Cops?”

  “Patrols.”

  “Why don’t you put your friend on the ground and see if he is happy to be outside?” Sammell asked, seemingly ignoring the question.

  Marina stooped and gently placed Monday at her feet. He stood for a moment, tail lying along the ground. All at once his tail came up against his back and he scampered off into the trees.

  Marina laughed softly, watching his antics as he ran back and forth across the clearing before finally disappearing from view. When he was gone, she looked up to find Sammell staring at her.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked abruptly, the laughter dying.

  “You make such a pleasant sound when you are happy. I like hearing it.”

  Marina felt her cheeks grow warm. Holding his glance, she asked, “What about the patrols? You didn’t answer my question. Why haven’t we passed any? Are there none here in this part of the city?”

  “There are patrols, but not as many as near the gardens. And they are not as eager to search this sector as they are to search the sectors near the center of town.”

  “Then why didn’t we come here the other night?” she asked with narrowed eyes.

  “I wanted you to realize the danger of your situation…and I wanted you to believe what I had told you about where you were,” he added in softer tones.

  “Why was it so important that I believe you?”

  “Your safety—”

  “Is that your only concern?” she asked, interrupting him.

  Sammell couldn’t meet her eyes. He strode toward the water and stood at its edge, staring into the night.

  “Sammell,” Marina moved up behind him, “why do you never call me by name?”

  “I have spoken your name.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, recalling the incidents, “but not as a friend. Why do you hold yourself so stiffly from me? Do you dislike me? Are you angry because I’m here? I know you didn’t want me here, but…can’t we be friends?

  “I know we come from different worlds, but…friends don’t have to be alike. I could use a friend. How about you?”

  “Friendship is not allowed—” he began.

  “Well, who’s to know?” she said, cutting him off. “Who but us? And I thought you wanted to change all that? Shouldn’t change begin at home? I will be your friend, if you will be mine.”

  After a long silence, she stepped closer and put a light hand on his back. “Don’t you want to be my friend?”

  Sammell turned, dislodging her hand, to find her only a few inches away. Taking a hurried step back, he felt his heel slip on the mud and struggled to retain his balance without appearing to have lost it.

  For some reason it was very important for him to appear in complete control. Recovering his balance, he swallowed dryly and tried to decide how to explain things to her. It would be difficult for someone who knew next to nothing about life in his time to fully understand the contrast between their worlds.

  “I have lived almost thirty years knowing there was something more to life than what we have here. But until I met you…” His voice faded as his eyes became fixed on her uplifted face. The night made dark hollows of her eyes and mouth while the silver moonlight gave her skin an odd luminescence, making her appear unearthly.

  “Yes,” Marina probed, “until you met me?”

  Sammell swallowed again and tore his gaze from her face. “What I have learned from you makes my mission to save my people very real. You have something my people do not know enough to dream about. Freedom, true freedom.

  “It must be wonderful to walk the streets without fear of arrest, to stop and talk to people whenever you like, to have friends—to choose a mate of your own.”

  “It isn’t all wonderful,” Marina said. “And you have good things in your world, too.”

  “Yes,” he readily agreed, “but we are kept from enjoying them!”

  Marina shivered at the suppressed anger in his voice. “Do you really think you can stop this world from coming into existence?”

  “I must.”

  “When do you go?” It was unnatural to be discussing time travel as though it were nothing more than a Sunday-afternoon excursion by car. Yet now she believed in it.

  “As soon as I have returned you to your own time.”

  “Do you know what year the drug was first manufactured?”

  “Not yet, but I will find out. The information is in the archives at Government House.”

  “It will be dangerous, traveling in a time you’ve never known. Have you thought about that? What if something happens to you?”

  Sammell shrugged.

  “Surely there are others who feel as you do.”

  “I do not know.”

  “If you discovered the drug, couldn’t other people have discovered it, too?”

  “I do not know.”

  “Have you never heard about anyone rebelling?”

  “My government does not tolerate rebellion. Insurrectionists would be terminated.”

  “But—have you tried to find others like yourself?”

  “No,” Sammell had to admit. “I have always been afraid of discovery. I did not know whom to trust. There is one man at work whom I once would have trusted, but…”

  “There, you see?” Marina said. “Why haven’t you taken him into your confidence?”

  “It is not safe to trust anyone. People curry favor by informing on others. In any case—” Sammell put an end to the conversation “—that is not your problem, it is mine.”

 
; “Yes,” Marina agreed, stung by his curt dismissal, “it is. When are you planning to send Monday and me home?”

  “I have acquired the components needed to restore MDAT to full power. It will take a little while, but soon I hope to send you home. I know you will be glad to get back to your life.” He watched her face for signs of denial.

  “Yes,” Marina agreed without enthusiasm, “I will.”

  But would she? What awaited her there? Her work, certainly. And her family. But no one special. No one pacing the floor and ringing her telephone at all hours of the day and night, worried because he hadn’t heard from her.

  Sensing something behind her words, Sammell said, “You do not appear as concerned about getting home as you did yesterday.”

  “Yesterday I thought you were a fiend who’d kidnapped me for an unknown reason.”

  “Fiend?”

  “Yes. Someone who wanted to do me harm.”

  “And now that you know I’m not a…fiend?”

  “Now I’d kind of like to stick around and find out what happens.” Seeing the protest hovering on his lips, she added, “I could be of help to you. Have you considered that?”

  “Help? How?”

  That was a good question. Until she’d said it just now, she hadn’t realized that she even wanted to stick around. “I know how things work in my time. I know the people. I could help you plan how to go about destroying the Wyndom drug.”

  “But what about your friends and family?” he asked. “Are you not eager to return to them?”

  “Yes—I want to see them again. But you need me. And their lives won’t be changed by my remaining gone for a little while longer.”

  “No?” He appeared surprised by her answer. “But I thought people were closer to each other in your world.”

  “That’s true. But getting together in many cases is left to the holidays.”

  “Yes, I remember about holidays—and picnics,” he added, reminding her of their last outing. “Tell me about families,” he said. “What are they like?”

  “Families,” Marina murmured, forgetting her argument for the moment, “that’s a hard one. They love one another and share things.” She shrugged. How did you explain a family? “They help and stand by each other through the bad times as well as the good.”

  “I would like to know a family.”

  “You mean be a part of one?” Marina asked.

  “Yes, I would like to be a part of a family.”

  “We could be friends,” Marina again suggested. “Sometimes friends become like family.”

  “Do you love friends?” he asked, staring at her intently.

  Marina swallowed. “Yes, friends love each other.”

  “And do friends touch?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I would like to be your friend.”

  “Friends sometimes kiss each other, too.”

  “Kiss?”

  “A touching of the lips.” She pressed a finger against her own lips and touched it to his. “That is a kiss.”

  Sammell fingered his tingling lips. A kiss. He liked it.

  Chapter 8

  Sammell strolled along the stream with his back to Marina. He’d followed its course many times in the past but had never been so aware of its charm as now. How had he missed the beauty of moonlight on water, the delight of fresh warm air blowing against his skin, the sense of absolute peace in the silence of the woods?

  He knew this new sense of awareness was due to the woman at his side. Since she’d arrived, his view of life had gradually been changing. Though he’d always been aware of the beauty around him, he’d never taken much pleasure in it.

  Is that what it was like in Marina’s world? Were her people free to walk and enjoy the secrets of the night without fear of arrest?

  From the corner of his eye, Sammell saw Marina sit down on the river bank and remove her strange footwear, held on by a strap between her toes. And then she was scooting eagerly toward the water.

  Looking up at him, she smiled and said, “Take off your shoes and join me.”

  “We have to get back,” he protested mildly. What new feat was this?

  “Not yet. Come on, relax and come into the water—or is bathing another thing you don’t do?” she asked teasingly.

  “We bathe,” Sammell said dryly, “but not with our clothes on.”

  Marina laughed. “Don’t be an old stick-in-the-mud. The water feels great!”

  In truth the water was chilly, but Marina didn’t want to go back yet. Away from the bleakness of his living quarters, Sammell acted more like a human being and less like a robot.

  She was starved for conversation and Sammell was her only choice. Besides, he was a paradox. Sometimes he acted in a manner completely foreign to the men of her time, yet at other times the inbred arrogance of his gender came out in full force. And she wanted to know which was the real Sammell—or was he a combination of both?

  “Come on,” she urged, “relax. Take off your shoes and roll up your pants—come wading with me.”

  “Wading?”

  “Yes.” She tromped back and forth in the water, splashing it up around her bare legs. “It’s fun. Come on.” She reached for him. “I’ll help you.”

  But he refused to be coaxed.

  Marina put her hands on her hips in exasperation and asked, “Don’t you ever do anything just for fun?”

  “Fun?”

  “Yes. Something that makes you feel good.”

  “No,” Sammell replied solemnly. And then he was sitting on the grass removing his boots and socks and rolling up his pant legs.

  His first steps into the water were tentative. Its icy shock almost drove him back to the grassy bank. But the rocks on the bottom were slippery with lichen and he slipped.

  Marina caught hold of him around the waist and helped keep him upright until he could regain his footing.

  Gazing down on her moonlit face, Sammell suddenly wanted to be closer, not only physically, but mentally, as well. “Is this what you do with your brothers? Do you go wading with them?”

  Marina grinned. She supposed she shouldn’t tell him about the skinny-dipping they’d all taken part in when they were younger. He probably wouldn’t approve.

  “This was one of our favorite things to do on hot summer days when we were kids,” she answered with a smile.

  “Kids?”

  “Young—children.”

  “Oh.” He wondered if she was aware that her arm was still around his waist. He was—very much so. And instead of feeling repulsed by it…he liked it.

  “What kind of things did you do when you were young?” Marina asked curiously.

  “Studied.”

  “All the time?”

  “No. On Sundays we went for boat rides or walks in the public gardens.”

  “What kind of games did you play?”

  “Games?”

  “Never mind.”

  “We should go,” Sammell murmured abruptly, sensing that in some way he’d disappointed her. “A patrol is bound to come by before long.”

  “Yes, all right,” Marina agreed offhandedly. “Tell me, do you like this?”

  Sammell met her glance. “The wading?”

  “Yes.” But she was wondering if he liked being with her.

  Staring into her eyes, he murmured, “I like it very much.”

  The wave of blond hair that always seemed to be neatly swept back from his face lay across his forehead almost in his eyes. It made him look younger, less stern and slightly raffish. Marina liked that. She shivered, suddenly very much aware of how close they were standing.

  “You are cold,” Sammell said, his arms automatically coming up to her shoulders.

  “No…” she started to protest, then said, “well, only a little.” She liked the feel of his arms around her. It made her feel protected.

  Sammell didn’t know what to do with his hands. They rested on her shoulders, then slowly slipped down her arms. This “touching” w
as new to him and he wasn’t at all comfortable with it.

  A dark shape darted past them in the water and he jerked in surprise. “There is something in the water,” he said curiously, bending to peer into its murky depths.

  “Of course there is, silly,” Marina laughed, “They’re called fish.”

  “Oh—yes.” He glanced at her self-consciously and Marina laughed harder.

  “Did you think it was a monster?”

  “No,” he answered seriously. “I had forgotten about them, that is all.”

  When he’d bent to look into the water, he’d drawn her against his side. And now she was very much aware of his lithe body plastered down the front of hers. His hip pressed against her pelvic bone and her legs rested one on either side of his.

  “Sam—may I call you that?”

  “Why?”

  “Because it sounds less formal than Sammell. And friends are easy with each other.”

  “You may call me Sam if you like.”

  “May I ask you something?”

  He nodded.

  “Have you ever held a girl in your arms?”

  “No. Why,” he asked quickly, “am I doing something I should not?”

  “No, you’re doing fine,” she answered swiftly, thinking that she’d very much like him to kiss her.

  As if he’d read her mind, his arm tightened around her. She could feel his body tense and the air around them suddenly felt charged with electricity. Marina moved against him, pushing her hands up his chest to his shoulders, her eyes locked with his. What was he feeling to cause such panic in the depths of his dark eyes?

  “What are the women in your world like?”

  “I do not know,” he answered falteringly, feeling a surge of those sensations from the other night.

  “What do you mean, you don’t know? Are they beautiful?”

  “No,” he said uncertainly, “I do not think so. Not the way you are beautiful.”

  “You think I’m beautiful?”

  “Yes,” he answered on an uneven breath.

  “But you see the women of your world every day. Surely you know if you like looking at them.”

  “They look no different from me.”

  “Really?” she asked, not really believing him. “Look, I know you said you have no choice in who your mate will be….” She hesitated. “But haven’t you ever wanted to get close to one—just to see what it would be like?”