Time Shards

by Dana Fredsti

  “It’s nice to have some quality time to get to know one another,” he said. “If we’ve learned anything today, it’s that life is short, brutish, and utterly un-fucking-predictable. You have to grab hold of it and take what pleasure you can, while you can. Carpe diem, indeed, and carpe noctem, too.

  “When that pilgrim prat was going to burn us alive this morning, I realized something. I was so jealous, so envious of him. Right then he was everything I ever aspired to. I really should have become a preacher… or a god.” He gave a small chuckle. “Never appreciated just how bloody much power they have when folk are shitting themselves. Now see, if you apply yourself, take the time to learn how to manipulate fear and hate—well then, my lamb, you’ve got the power of life and death right in your bloody hands.”

  He paused and shifted so he was pressed even closer.

  “Killing Alex wasn’t much fun. I had to rush things, and she was already pretty much done in by the poison. No real time to play. Anyhow, she was a bit too uncompromising for my tastes. I like my women… softer, y’know? My last houseguest, she was right up my alley.

  “Real pretty bird,” he said, sounding wistful. “Big blue eyes, lots of brown hair. Slender and soft. We were just about to have some real fun when things went tits up and she vanished. Now that was a missed opportunity. She cried, y’know—so much she had trouble breathing.” He heaved a sigh. “I liked that. Liked the fear in those big blue eyes.”

  He brought his lips down right next to her ear and whispered, “You’re gonna cry for me, Red. Until I decide it’s time for you to stop.” Amber gave an involuntary whimper and Simon put a deceptively gentle hand on her face, wiping a finger under one of her eyes.

  “Oh, that’s nice. You’ve already started.”

  He pulled back slightly, easing the pressure, and a bright light shone in Amber’s face, momentarily blinding her. She turned her head to one side, shutting her eyes to escape the beam.

  “Sorry about that, love.” He tilted the flashlight a little to one side, taking the beam out of her face. “Better?”

  Amber opened her eyes and saw Simon’s face eerily illuminated above her, the flashlight held in between their bodies. She didn’t stop to think.

  Snatching the flashlight with her bound hands, she swung upward, pretending she was bumping the ball in volleyball and his chin was the point of impact. The metal connected with a loud crack, snapping Simon’s head back. At the same time, she bucked her hips and rolled to one side, throwing him off her.

  She didn’t give him time to recover.

  Clutching the flashlight, Amber scrambled awkwardly to her feet, tore through the deerskin, and stumbled out of the cave. The animal skin came tumbling down, wrapping in a tangle around her.

  Back in the cave Simon gave an inarticulate yell of rage even as she stumbled down the hill in the night. Random branches slapped her face and arms as she plunged forward. Her toe caught on something hard and she pitched forward, losing hold of the flashlight. It flew out of her hands and for a few terrifying, helpless seconds she was sure she was going to tumble face first all the way down the incline. She jerked backward, falling painfully hard on her knees instead, then fought through the pain to get to her feet and kept running, thankful she hadn’t broken an ankle or her neck.

  The ground leveled out and Amber stumbled through the trees, struggling to take in a full breath through her congested nostrils. Reaching up with her bound hands, she ripped the outer gag off, spat the rest out onto the ground, and sucked in sweet, life-giving air.

  Which way?

  Her sense of direction had completely failed. She could hear Simon cursing above her as he threw scraps of the canopy aside, and knew there was no time to find her bearings. She picked a direction and ran.

  Twilight had given way to night. The moon shone above, but the thick canopy of trees only allowed a faint gleam of dappled light through—barely enough to prevent her from running face first into a tree. She heard her pursuer crashing down the hill and kept moving, hoping to find the safety of their temporary camp—or anywhere—before Simon managed to find her again.

  She glimpsed more moonlight through the trees ahead and stepped up her pace, biting on the rope that bound her wrists, pulling with her teeth as she ran, trying to loosen the knots he’d tied. She got one free, but the second one wouldn’t budge, no matter how she tugged at it. Finally, she gave it up and just concentrated on reaching the gap in the trees.

  Almost there.

  In a final burst of speed, she dashed into the moonlit clearing—and nearly barreled straight into a lake. She slid to a stop a foot or two away from the water’s edge, trying to catch her breath as quietly as possible. This had to be the source of water Merlin’s rover had detected.

  The clearing permitted more moonlight here, making it easy to see how much life teemed beneath the lake’s surface. The water seethed with activity… as did the shoreline. Something vaguely amphibian skittered up onto the bank, followed by a monster right out of an atomic-era sci-fi movie, a horrible chittering noise emanating from its mandibles.

  Holy shit.

  Amber froze in her tracks.

  It looked like a scorpion on steroids, as big as a Shetland pony. Its barbed tail whipped over its head and stabbed the fleeing amphibian. The lizard-thing shuddered and collapsed in the sand, limbs twitching feebly as the scorpion descended upon it and fed.

  Amber’s paralysis broke and she started backing slowly into the trees, one careful step at a time before finally turning to run and—

  Simon stood at the tree line, flashlight in one hand pointing up under his face so she could see his grin, like a summer camp counselor about to tell ghost stories around the fire. She backpedaled a few paces, then went after the rope around her wrists again. The scorpion chittered, nearly done with its meal.

  Simon shook his head. “Y’know, at first I was pretty cheesed off at this chase you’ve led me on, but now that we’re here, I realize it’s… well, this is a splendid opportunity. We’ll just leave some of your clothes here. Nothing important—your dress, underwear. Nothing you’ll need again. That way if the rest of them do search for you, they’ll think you died here. They’ll go on their merry way, and you and I will have plenty of time to play together. Unless…”

  He paused, cocked his head to one side, toward the scorpion.

  “Unless you’d rather get it over with and let that thing have you for its next meal while I watch.” He considered the idea. “That could be almost as much fun—especially if you scream.”

  “Fuck off,” Amber spat—the first time she’d ever said those words to another person.

  He shrugged. “Your choice, love.”

  Amber cast a frantic gaze at the scorpion, and then back at Simon. Could she make a break for it further down the shoreline, darting into the woods? She almost had the second knot undone…

  He pointed the flashlight in her direction, yet the monster didn’t acknowledge her presence.

  “I don’t think it actually sees or hears the way we do,” Simon said conversationally. “Not sure how it hunts, but I’ve seen it in action. Felt it, too, actually. Once it knows you’re there, it’s fast. I think maybe it hunts by vibration. Let’s find out.”

  He stomped his foot hard on the ground. The scorpion chittered again, clicking its mouthparts as it turned.

  “Yeah, I think that’s it.”

  Simon stomped again. Amber gasped as the monster scurried toward him—and toward her, since she was standing between them. “Of course, now that it’s spotted you, it’s not likely to forget that you’re here.” Amber frantically worked at the rope with her teeth. The last of the stubborn knot gave way just as Simon offered one last emphatic stomp on the ground before ducking behind a tree.

  The monster charged. She screamed and threw herself to one side as the scorpion lumbered past. It quickly redirected its attention, drawn to the vibration when she hit the ground. Amber rolled onto her back and scrambled away, scuttli
ng backward like a crab on her hands and feet as the thing lunged for her. She screamed again, holding up her arms and hands in a vain attempt to shield herself as the gore-drenched mandibles dipped toward her.

  A sharp cracking sound echoed over the lake.

  Then another.

  The creature buckled as if the weight of its body suddenly became too much for its legs. Amber rolled out of the way as it collapsed where she had just been sprawled on her back.

  “Amber!”

  A familiar voice shouted her name, over to the left where the shoreline curved in the opposite direction. Amber’s jaw dropped.

  It couldn’t be…

  “Amber! Stay there! I’m coming.”

  Rough hands seized her from behind, one entwining in her hair to yank her head back, the other painfully wrenching her arm behind her.

  “Guess you’ll be coming with me after all,” Simon whispered. As he did, she watched creatures swarm over the dead scorpion in a chittering feeding frenzy. Then the pain caused her vision to blur.

  Another shot cracked from the left. Simon flinched and swore, letting go of her wrist as he clutched at his left shoulder. Amber wrenched her hair out of his grasp, feeling some of it tear away at the scalp. She faced Simon, fiercely happy to see blood spurting out from between his fingers.

  He snarled and lashed out with his left hand, catching her across the face hard enough to rattle her teeth and send her stumbling back toward the feasting creatures. One of them hissed and scuttled toward her. She dove out of its path, landing heavily on one side, nearer to the tree line. Simon followed her, his frock coat swinging about his legs.

  “I’ll kill him and then cut you apart, piece by tiny piece,” he said between clenched teeth. She scrabbled in the sand for a piece of wood or a rock—anything to use as a weapon to protect herself. Simon let go of his wounded shoulder, blood dripping blackly from his hand as he reached down to grab her. He seized her, fingers digging into her upper arms, just as her fingers closed over what felt like a ridged wooden club—Alex’s truncheon.

  Tightening her grip, she lashed out with the billy club, smashing Simon across the bridge of his nose. He howled in pain and fury, and she immediately followed up with a direct blow to his wounded shoulder, and then smashed him on the collarbone. Then she kneed him in his groin as hard as she could. He groaned, reeling like a drunken man as he stumbled over his own feet and fell backward—

  Straight into the path of the scorpions.

  Simon screamed as one of them caught him up in its claws and sunk its mandibles into his bloody shoulder. Another, smaller one immediately skittered over his torso, settling there before going to work on his stomach. His scream rose higher, changing in pitch from pain to agony. The agony became unspeakable when the rest of the creatures closed in.

  Amber staggered back away from the horror show, seeking shelter in the trees before her legs gave out on her. She sank to her knees, folding over until her head rested on her hands.

  She heard shouts, but stayed in that position until Blake reached her, joined quickly by Cam, Nellie, Merlin, and Harcourt.

  Only then did she let herself cry.

  39

  Amber and Blake sat a few feet away from the small, crackling fire, silently sharing a cup of coffee. Amber had heated water in a little tin cup from Blake’s duffle and added one of her packets of instant. She even had a bit of sugar and powdered creamer tucked away in her backpack. She’d offered some to Cam, but he’d taken one sip and handed the cup back to her, his expression making it clear what he thought of coffee.

  He seemed equally unenthusiastic about Blake.

  The urgency to flee had eased once they realized that Blake was the person Groucho had detected. They’d relocated nevertheless, and when Amber told them about the cave, it seemed the ideal alternative. She hadn’t been so sure, but had allowed herself to be overruled. Merlin used the drones to locate it. When they arrived, Nellie located a hunk of maggot-ridden meat in the corner, and tossed it into the forest.

  As soon as she did they heard rustling coming from more than one direction. Putrid or not, the meat wouldn’t last long.

  Once they’d settled in, they dug into the food they’d brought from the wagon, along with some of what Amber and Blake had left in their respective backpack and duffle. There was bread, cheese, dried meat, and some harsh red wine—which caused Harcourt to nearly cry with happiness—as well as the nearly full water skin Simon had brought back.

  The various snacks Amber and Blake contributed were met with suspicion from Harcourt and curiosity from Nellie. Cam managed an air of nonchalance that Amber found sweetly funny, considering his reaction to the same things two days earlier.

  The cave had a natural chimney in the roof, so they managed to build a fire that couldn’t be seen from below, and the burning wood helped to eliminate some of the rancid stench still lingering in the air. Cam and Merlin sat next to the fire, deep in conversation, while Harcourt lay on his back, snoring deeply and rhythmically after consuming several cups of wine. Nellie leaned back against Blake’s duffle bag, eyes half-lidded but still awake. Cam caught Amber looking at him, and the two exchanged a quick private glance, each silently checking to make sure the other was okay.

  Amber never thought she’d willingly go back to the cave where Simon had taken her, but the group needed a place to hunker down for the night and, well, if Psycho Simon had thought it a good hiding place, it probably was.

  As the fire cast light onto the walls, they made an amazing discovery. The prehistoric inhabitants had painted on the walls, the kind of thing she’d only seen in photographs, like the ones from the Lascaux caverns in France. Stick figures with bows hunted huge-antlered elk, hefty wild ox, and shaggy rhinoceros. Alongside all these were less-identifiable symbols, abstract shapes and squiggles. The artists had also produced rust and white powders to leave vibrant handprints. It gave Amber chills to be able to touch them—the same kind of feeling she got when she touched the walls of medieval castles or standing stones from centuries ago.

  All of a sudden she wondered how “old” Cam was, and if his people had done artwork like this. Maybe later she’d ask Merlin to translate for her.

  She felt oddly normal—if such a state even existed anymore. Almost eerily calm after yet another near-death experience. She’d trusted Simon. Despite his annoyances, he’d been one of them, and yet he’d wanted to not just kill her, but to take his sweet time doing so. Shouldn’t she be a quivering heap of nerves about now, all tears and hysterics? Instead she’d eaten her share of the food with a hearty appetite, and had a sense of well-being that seemed out of place.

  Maybe it was the coffee.

  That, and the fact that Simon was dead.

  Unequivocally dead.

  Amber looked at Blake. He wore a buff coat and breeches that he’d taken off some unfortunate Roundhead cavalryman who’d run across him while on patrol. Amber almost felt sorry for the fellow. She doubted he’d stood a chance.

  “How did you find me?” she finally asked, breaking the silence between them.

  He shrugged. “Once I realized I was looking in the wrong direction, it was easy enough to track you. I lost a good day heading down into London though. Clever of you to hide right next door.” He drank some more coffee, the look on his face the most contented Amber had seen there since meeting him.

  “When I saw what those Roundhead bastards were up to, I figured they’d taken you prisoner, so I kept out of sight, trying to figure out how to get into their little enclave without being seen. Easy enough to go undercover and blend in. Stole this—” He indicated the buff coat. “—and a nice horse from a rider on patrol.”

  Nellie, who’d been quietly listening to the two of them, nodded her agreement.

  “I saw them drag the lot of you out to the stakes,” he continued. “Wasn’t sure how I was going to get you out of that, but then your friend there…” He nodded at Merlin and shook his head in amazement. “How the hell did he c
onjure up a fake soldier, let alone the dinosaur?”

  “I’m still not exactly sure,” Amber admitted. “It has something to do with his drones.”

  “I won’t even pretend to understand what that means,” Blake said with rare self-deprecation. “At any rate, I followed the other soldiers, far enough behind that when they went galloping away, it was obvious that your wagon tracks were heading in the opposite direction.” He smiled. “Knocked me for a loop when I finally caught up with the real wagon, and realized you lot had bailed out somewhere earlier. Once I backtracked far enough, I had a gut feeling I’d find you in these woods. It’s what I would’ve done. Stumbling on you at the lake, though…”

  He shook his head.

  “That was pure luck.”

  Amber nodded, not entirely sure what to say. She felt like an asshole for running away from him in the first place.

  “I’m sorry,” she finally said. “I didn’t mean to put you through all that trouble.”

  “Oh, I don’t blame you for leaving.” Blake laughed, a harsh sound with no amusement in it. “I lost my head. Became a liability, no good to you or myself. No, you did the right thing, the smart thing, leaving me before I got you killed.”

  Amber stared at him. “Blake, I didn’t leave you because I was afraid you’d get me killed,” she finally said. “I left because I was afraid you were going to kill me.”

  He stared back in confusion. “You thought I was…” He trailed off and shook his head.

  “You said—and I quote you—that we’d be better off dead,” she replied. “And that woman in the swamp…” She swallowed hard. “I get it—that it was a mercy killing. That she wasn’t going to make it. But how could I know you wouldn’t decide I would be better off dead, too?”

  Blake said nothing. He stared off into some unseen distance for a while before he turned to look at her again.

  “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “In hindsight, it seems perfectly clear why you thought what you thought. I just didn’t cop on to it at the time. Ah, hell.” He set the cup down and rested his head on his hands. “God, I’m a bloody idiot.”