9781940740065

by Paul B. Kohler

  There’s a sentence that I never imagined I’d ever write.

  So, yeah, we arrived last night, and since I’d been separated from Jules for the last two-plus weeks, our animal instincts took over, and we made up for lost time. What can I say— I think I’m wild for that woman. And the best part? I think she feels the same about me. But who really knows. I’ve been off base before.

  Right now, it’s a little before 10:00 p.m. here, and we’re still in this little French hotel we stayed at last night. Our initial plan was to spend just the one night here, and then be on the train to Oradour-sur-Glane today. Well, plans change. And today was no exception.

  Despite our best efforts, that bastard Mandrake seems to fuck everything up. To say we weren’t caught off guard today would be a lie.

  For now, I think we’re okay, but Julie and I cannot effectively complete our mission with him and his goons following every move we make. Oh, yeah, he brought Muscle and Squirrel with him. Those two are about as dumb as a stump. With their sudden appearance here, we’re going to be forced to do something deviating from our initial plan. Something that I’d never thought possible. We’re going to steal a car. Both Jules and I tried to find a car to buy or borrow to get to the next town at least, but it’s nearly extortion what these locals want for a simple ride of 200 kilometers. The fact is, nobody wants to do it. They’re afraid of being consumed by the war. I suppose I can’t blame them. So Julie and I scouted the town, and we’ve settled on an older Fiat that’s a half dozen blocks away. It’s nestled in between a small café and an abandoned factory of some sort. We watched the car from a distance most of the afternoon, and it appears to be used by a nearby business. From what we could tell, it will run, and all we can hope is that it has enough gas to get us to the next town. Once we’re out of Sete, we can reevaluate the situation.

  Well, that’s enough for now. We’re planning on getting a few hours of shut-eye before the big heist around 3:00 in the morning.

  Peter stood in the shadows of the moonlit night. Making the quarter-mile hike through the sleepy French town was the easy part. The hard part was yet to come.

  After standing in silence for nearly thirty minutes, Peter was confident there were no prying eyes in the vicinity. As he stepped to the side of the car, he slipped out a pocket knife and extended the blade in one swift motion. Before slicing the ragtop of the Fiat, Peter first tried both the driver and passenger side door handles. Locked. Without missing a beat, Peter placed the tip of the knife at the lower right corner of the rear tonneau cover and pushed the blade through. The polished steel of the blade reflected glints of moonlight before disappearing into the canvas. With a little back and forth movement, Peter was able to create an opening large enough for him to crawl through and gain access.

  After a final glance around the shadowy alley, Peter separated the opening and slipped inside the car. Thankfully, the space behind the front seats was empty, otherwise he’d have had some difficulty maneuvering inside the cramped interior of the Italian two-seater. Once inside, he climbed into the front seat and dropped straight to the floor beneath the dash. On his way down, he quickly familiarized himself with the dash layout, noting the location of the ignition switch. Peter sighed as the challenging part was upon him.

  Reaching up, Peter felt through the wires and cables hidden behind the dash. It only took a minute to find the right cluster. The ignition wires were practically invisible to him in the darkness. As he pulled them down for better access, he felt each of the three wires. After tracing the smallest wire to the instrument cluster, he sliced it free and removed a portion of its sheathing. The next wire he felt for was the largest in diameter—the power wire. He quickly repeated the cut-and-splice procedure. With those two wires ends exposed, Peter twisted them together, instantly noticing a glow from various lights and gauges on the dash. Finally, he cut and exposed the last of the three wires—the starter wire.

  With the main procedure of hot-wiring complete, Peter unfolded his body from beneath the dash and into the driver’s seat. A quick seat adjustment and he was ready to roll. He gently held the exposed wires before mumbling, “Here goes nothing.”

  The moment he touched the two exposed wires together, a spark flashed brightly beneath the dash as the starter engaged. Even though he’d been prepared for the event, Peter forgot about the clutch, and the car lurched forward as the starter engaged with the engine. He quickly pulled the wires free and put his foot on the brake. With his other foot now on the clutch, he touched the wires together once again, and the starter turned freely, forcing the engine to life.

  The sound of the four-cylinder engine was much louder than Peter had anticipated. He quickly slipped the car into reverse and backed out of the alley. Once on the street, he hit the light switch and proceeded down the road. Glancing in the rearview mirror, Peter saw no house lights illuminate. After he’d gone several blocks, he was confident that nobody had been roused by the sound of the engine. Peter turned toward the hotel and his waiting companion.

  As Peter pulled to the curb, Julie stepped out, carrying the first of their two luggage pieces. Peter set the brake but left the car running while he helped Julie with the other bag.

  “Any problems?” Julie asked.

  “Piece of cake. Other than a little surgical precision on the ragtop, everything went as planned.”

  Peter grabbed the bag from Julie and slid it behind the driver’s seat. While inside the car, he reached across and unlocked the passenger door. By the time he made it around to the other side, Julie was coming back out of the hotel with their other bag. As Peter took that bag from her, he heard a loud yell.

  “Arrêtez!” echoed from down the street.

  Both Peter and Julie glanced up and saw a man running toward them. He was still a few blocks away, but was coming from the direction of the heist.

  “Shit!” Peter exclaimed.

  “No problems, huh?” Julie asked sarcastically.

  “Well, none till now,” Peter snapped. He threw the bag behind the passenger seat before climbing across and into the driver’s seat. Julie jumped in and the wheels were rolling before Julie’s door closed. The momentum of the car lurching forward launched the suicide door fully open. Peter tapped the brake long enough to swing the door closed before hitting the accelerator again.

  Peter shot past the man running toward them, most likely the car’s owner. At the end of the block, Peter yanked the wheel and headed north, toward the road out of town. Within minutes, they were cruising along the vacant streets, the only sound coming from the rumble of the engine.

  “Well, that was fun,” Julie said.

  “What? I thought I zigzagged enough before doubling back. Hell, I even drove several blocks the other way before I came back to the hotel,” Peter confessed.

  “Mmm-hmm,” Julie mumbled. “You think he saw our faces?”

  “Hell, Jules. Does it really matter?”

  Julie didn’t reply right away. “Yeah, I guess not.” She looked out the window at the passing village buildings. “I still don’t know why we had to steal a car in the first place.”

  “It’s like I said. If we paid someone for a ride into the next town, there’d be a trail. Don’t we want to get away from Mandrake’s grasp?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  Peter ignored her cynicism and focused on the dark road ahead. By his estimation, they’d reach the next town by sunrise. He leaned back and enjoyed the silence.

  CHAPTER 5

  The sky above faded from dark cobalt toward the west to a warm salmon hue in the east. The sun was rising. Peter anticipated another thirty minutes’ drive time through the French countryside before they pulled into Castelnaudary.

  Julie was fast asleep, and had been so for most of the drive. He glanced over and saw her legs pulled tight to her chest and her head leaning against the side window. He smiled, and knew then that once they were back in their own timeline, they would discuss their future together with the kids. The choice wa
s inevitably his, but having come so far back from the bottom of the bottle, he wanted their approval. He needed their approval. He’d been unhappy for far too long, and he felt he could have a future with Julie.

  Focusing ahead once again, he crested a hill, and for the first time, Peter could begin to see civilization return to the barren land. He’d always imagined that the French countryside was more picturesque than what he’d seen over the last three hours. Granted, the bleakness of night had masked most of the scenery, but now that the sun was rising, he wasn’t terribly impressed.

  Peter came upon a curve in the road that forced him to downshift before pulling on the steering wheel. The four-cylinder engine rattled louder as he re-engaged the clutch, causing Julie to stir.

  “Mmm. Time is it?” she mumbled without opening her eyes.

  Glancing at his watch, Peter replied, “Just before six in the morning. Did you have a good sleep?”

  Julie lifted her head and squinted her eyes open, looking at the terrain all around them. She stretched her legs, pressing her feet to the floorboard. “Like a baby. Want me to drive for a while? You’ve been behind the wheel all night.”

  Peter shook his head. “No need. we’re close. I’ll grab some shut-eye once we have a place to lay our heads for a few days.”

  “Suit yourself,” she said, leaning her head onto his shoulder as he drove.

  Twenty minutes later they pulled into the small town of Castelnaudary. From what Peter could see, their hospitality choices looked grim. He glanced at Julie’s face and saw the same worried look he’d been wearing displayed in the furrow of her brow.

  “It can’t be that bad, right?” he asked, trying to stay positive.

  “Well, I’ve been here before, and I know of a few boarding houses …” She paused and shook her head. “But that was a few years ago, in our timeline.”

  “It doesn’t look like we’ve got much of a choice. Let’s start looking closer to the train station. It’d make sense to have a hotel or something near there.”

  Julie nodded. “Sounds logical to me.”

  Peter had followed along the rail line as they pulled into the small town. As they neared the train station, worry crept over him as he passed a number of barricaded side streets running parallel to the approaching platform.

  “Hmm. What do you suppose those are for?” Julie asked.

  “It’s probably just precautionary. We are in the middle of a war.”

  “Yeah, I suppose,” Julie replied, but said nothing further. She just stared at the gray military vehicles parked behind the barricades.

  Peter slowed the Fiat, turned up the first side street that wasn’t blocked off, and pulled to the side of the road. He reached up under the dash and untwisted the ignition wires, and the engine cut off, leaving them in an eerie silence.

  “You think it’s too early to go knocking on doors, looking for a room?” Peter asked.

  “That there, it reads room-for-let.” Julie pointed to the faded words stenciled across the side of a rundown brick cottage a few houses away from where they were parked. “I’d think we should start there.”

  Peter nodded as he surveyed the rest of the quiet street. “Okay, then. We’ll park the car down near the train station and then walk back here.”

  “Why not just leave it here? Are you concerned …” Julie began.

  “We can’t be too careful. I’m not exactly sure how grand theft auto works in France, or if it was even a big deal in 1942, but I’m not willing to take a chance.”

  Peter leaned forward and sparked the wires together, and once again they were moving along the cobblestone streets. Ten minutes later, he and Julie walked side by side, carrying their baggage, heading for the boarding house.

  Peter pulled his journal from the side pocket of his suitcase and dropped it on the nightstand next to his twin bed. A plume of dust kicked up as he did so. Ignoring the lack of cleanliness, he fell onto the bed, and the moment his head hit the pillow, he could feel his eyelids being pulled closed, as if magnets were forcing them together. Before he succumbed to sleep, though, he glanced across the room at Julie, who was sliding her suitcase under her own twin bed.

  “Don’t you think we could just slide the beds together?” she asked.

  “Sure thing, Jules. We’ll do that first thing tomorrow. Right now, I’m spent. If I don’t get some shut-eye, I might drop my cover and start speaking English, and ask who won the Super Bowl last year.”

  “You do know it’s already tomorrow? It’s a little after nine in the morning.”

  Peter’s eyes had just closed, but he was still in the conversation. “I know, I know. Just a few hours’ sleep, and I’ll be good as new. We’ll get up and have a late lunch, then we’ll start planning …” Peter’s words drifted as exhaustion overtook him.

  Julie grinned. “That sounds like a well-thought-out plan,” she said as she leaned down and kissed him on the forehead.

  He puckered his lips and made a kissing face toward her without even opening his eyes. He was unconscious a minute later.

  “Stop. Right. There!” the German soldier said as she pressed the barrel of her gun against Tori’s temple.

  Peter did as he was told, and dropped his hands onto the kitchen counter. He looked around and recognized the room as his own kitchen, feeling a wave of Déjà-vu course through his mind.

  “Whatever it is you want, just let my kids go,” Peter said, recognizing those exact words as if he’d just said them moments before.

  The German woman twisted Tori’s body in front of her, using her as a human shield. “You know what ve vant.”

  Peter thought for a moment. He knew the answer, but he couldn’t pick it out of the jumbled thoughts dancing through his mind. “Um, you want me to … go somewhere? You want me to travel? Back in time? Is that right?” he asked, predicting the soldier’s next few words.

  “Very good, Mr. Cooper. If you vant to see your children again, you go now!”

  “But. Um.” Peter blinked at his young daughter, at her pleading eyes. “I’m not a time traveler. I’m just an ordinary architect—”

  The German soldier lifted Tori high in the air by her collar, adjusting the gun around her face. “You must change the history of time,” the woman screeched at him in a harsh German accent.

  Peter reached back toward the wall. He felt the room tilt. His son, tied up at the dining room table, and his daughter across from him, with the gun directly in her face, pleaded with him: Save us. Save us. But he couldn’t. The room started to darken around him. He tried to force himself to see it all—the dining room table he and his wife had picked out, the German woman’s finger pointed directly at him…

  He then felt a hand on his back. Chaos surged through his head. He felt sweat rising to his forehead in great drips. They descended down his nose. He realized that his throat was vibrating—that he was very nearly crying. “TORI!” he screamed. “BRETT!”

  “Shh,” came a familiar voice, echoing in his ear. “Shh.”

  He blinked several times, recognizing the small, European-style hotel room around him. He gasped, tasting stale oxygen. “Julie?” he whispered. He spun onto his back to see Julie next to him, wearing her thin nightgown, rubbing his back. “What’s going on?”

  “You were having a dream,” she murmured.

  “The German woman—” Peter sputtered. “She wants me to change something from history. She said—she said I’ll never see my kids again if—”

  Julie shook her head. Her small face scrunched into a worried, skeptical look. She whispered again. “Listen, Peter. We need to get dressed. The Germans. They’re coming.”

  Peter shook his head quickly, shooting up in bed. “They can’t be. Applegate said they didn’t come this far south. Not yet. Not till next year—”

  Julie leaped from the bed and started grabbing at clothes. “We need to move fast. We need to figure out what’s changed in the timeline. Anything that differs now could alter what we’re meant to do in
this timeline’s future. Do you understand?”

  Peter was still lost in the confusion of his dream world. He wiped the sweat from his palms and steadied himself. Why was he having such terrifying dreams? What had happened to his mind during that time lapse, when he’d seen that German soldier? Had she entered his psyche somehow, altered his perception of the world? Could he continue with the mission if he constantly dipped into this terrifying dream world? He needed to be careful. He needed to stay alert.

  He joined Julie and pulled his aging pants over his hips. He peeked outside the window and saw a short, precise line of German soldiers marching through the cobblestone streets below.

  “They’ve been coming for about an hour now,” Julie murmured. She tugged her shoes over her feet. “We need to figure out what’s going on and then get the hell out of here. Do you think we can make it to the car?”

  Peter nodded. He grabbed his satchel and started toward the door, with Julie rushing up behind him. He spun on his heels and looked at her. “The café by the train station. We can sit out in the sun and watch them, listen to them. Ask the barista if this was expected.” He looked at the strength behind Julie’s ever-beautiful hazel eyes. “If anything happens, we have to run. This isn’t part of the plan. We’re off the path.”

  Julie nodded as they descended the back staircase and burst into the sunlight of the early afternoon. They stayed in the shadows, lingering behind buildings and drifting toward the center of town, where the railway station was situated. Peter noted that several cafés and restaurants had been quickly boarded up as the Germans arrived. He could see eyes peering out from the windows, gawking at the terror arriving like one would gawk at a fire. Peter’s stomach trembled for a moment. Every German face he saw seemed to resemble that terrible woman in his dream, pointing a gun at his daughter.