The Great Locomotive Chase, 1862

by T. L. B. Wood

  "Okay, mom," he replied saucily. With his plumed tail waving over his reddish back, he sauntered off again, Elani close behind. I heard him mutter, "Like I never saw a bear before."

  "Slacker," I called after him. No, he couldn't help unpack the car, but he didn't have to be so arrogant about it. Peter and I managed, however, to get everything inside in less than five minutes. I didn't like to cook, and it turned out that Peter did, so I was content to putter around the cabin before joining Kipp and Elani outside.

  The cabin was old, decidedly worn and dust clung to most of the high surfaces. With my interest in antiques, I took time to walk through, enjoying the little pieces that would have been treasured in an estate sale or lingered on the shelf of some off the beaten path store. There was an unattractive sofa that looked like it dated to the 70's, when wagon wheel wood ornamentation was fashionable; faded plaid material covered sagging seat cushions. I was frankly horrified and simultaneously pleased that the wagon wheel was no longer in use in furniture design. A large, round braided rug covered some of the wood plank flooring. It was late afternoon and would be dark soon. If the previous days were any measure, it would be cold and feel damp, despite the low humidity; fortunately, the cabin had electric heat, and also there was a stack of wood out front for the stone fireplace. Well, I did know how to manage a fire. Having been born in 1604, I possessed a few skill sets, some of which had become extinct in the modern age. I walked to the stack, which was on the end of the long front porch and picked out a few smaller pieces. There was some fatwood in a bucket inside near the fireplace. Kipp and Elani finally returned from their wilderness expedition and tried to help, grabbing smaller sticks in their jaws and running to and from the fireplace, bringing kindling to me. Finally, Elani wandered to the kitchen where both Kipp and I could feel the waves of happiness and contentment radiating from her and Peter.

  "They are bonding nicely," Kipp observed, assuming his pose of Egyptian sphinx, as he watched me laboring to get the fire to catch. "Do you remember those first nights in that cave when we met? At my nod, he continued. "I'd never been around a fire pit before and thought it was the most wonderful feeling I'd ever experienced. I was used to being cold and often wet."

  I took a seat next to him, my legs crossed in a modified yoga pose; leaning over, I captured him in my arms. He pushed back against me, and we sat that way as we watched the tiny flames grow and begin to chew into the dry wood. I could have drifted off into sleep, sitting there on the floor, my head cushioned upon Kipp's soft flank, but dinner was almost ready, and we were both hungry.

  Chapter 6

  "This cabin has been here about 150 years," I remarked. "It's been used for past time shifts due to its longevity and history." At Peter's expression I added, "There have been long periods when it was vacant for one reason or another." The cabin had been the property of a symbiont pair who lived there in the latter part of the past century. It pretty much had been empty on and off since that time, the exception being the occasional Technicorps visitors.

  We played Scrabble while sitting on the floor on the large rug that nestled close to the radiating warmth of the fireplace. Of course, I'd brought that game on purpose, thinking it would help enlarge Elani's skills at English, and I was pleased to discover she had already developed a vocabulary that might rival the ordinary human's. We decided to play in teams since there was no way the lupines could maneuver the little wooden tiles, and, in the end, Peter and Elani won more sets than did Kipp and I.

  "Your fault," Kipp said, his amber eyes wearing an accusatory expression as he glared at me. "You can't just make up words to fit the space and available letters," he added. With a shrug of his massive shoulders, he stood and stretched fore and aft, groaning slightly as he did so. Yes, we'd all become a little stiff with our bodies stationary for too long. With a yawn and salute to the victors, Kipp and I stumbled off to our little room in the rear of the cabin. The rooms were all small—especially the bedrooms—since anything spacious would have been considered a waste of labor and space. Outside, the wind was blowing briskly, whistling through the trees, and finding a few chinks in the armor of the cabin while doing so. I shivered and pulled my hoodie a little closer. Kipp was better armed than I for such changes in the temperature. I slept with Kipp's head on my chest in our customary position, which was good, since the cabin was not insulated, and the windows were loosely mounted, to say the least.

  The following morning, the windows in our room were wet with condensation, as the cold outside struggled against the warmth inside. In the yard, a lacy crust of frost coated the SUV as well as the grass, a silent testament to the overnight chill; the shallow dips and hollows carved into the earth were lightly dusted with white and would remain so until the sun burned away the frigid, crystalline layer. There was a down comforter on the bed, and I was reluctant to stir from my cocoon. Finally, the fragrance of food cooking threaded its way down the shotgun hallway, and Kipp, with his nose in the air, hopped from the bed and trotted down the linking corridor, his toenails ticking loudly in the narrow confines. I grimaced as my bare feet hit the wide planks and quickly donned my tennis shoes. With the laces untied and my shoes flopping loosely about my feet, I scuffed my way into the kitchen, another small room; Peter looked around from where he stood at the stove. Kipp and Elani both sat at his feet, trying not to drool. He was pan frying some chicken in olive oil for the lupines. Although I didn't eat meat, I did enjoy eggs and cheese and allowed myself to be treated like a queen as Peter sautéed some vegetables and fixed us both cheese and vegetable omelets.

  "How come you haven't been scooped up yet?" I asked before I could stay my hasty and occasionally clumsy tongue. Peter's face flushed red as he dropped his gaze towards his plate.

  "Gee, Petra. Try and learn some tact," Kipp said, pausing in his chewing of chicken to chastise me.

  "I'm sorry," I said hastily, reaching across the table to gently touch Peter's forearm. "You are just a really nice guy... talented, smart, good looking and a terrific cook." I almost shocked myself as I named off the young symbiont's attributes. He'd not seemed particularly magnificent until that moment.

  Peter finally looked up at me with a toss of his head that shook his long bangs to the side. His hair reminded me of the style in the 60's and early 70's when boys would wear their hair in their eyes and manage a cocky swing of the head when visibility was a must. "Thanks, Petra. I know you meant it kindly, so no harm, no foul." He pushed his plate away and took a sip of coffee, which he seemed to prefer to Fitzhugh's ever present Earl Grey tea. "I let my parents, especially my mother, control my destiny too long. I've had some females who were interested in who they thought I should be, but unfortunately none of that would include traveling. And I've wanted to do this since I was a child."

  Smiling, I reached over to the coffee pot to warm up my almost empty mug. I knew the dilemma, since I'd done both and understood the two could not be mixed. Odd, I'd never been tempted to go back to a more conventional life of partnership, marriage and parenting. Well, that is, until I met William Harrow. Yes, marriage with him would have been fascinating, and I knew there was ample and abundant love. But there would be no children–an impossibility between two different species—and I would outlive him by centuries. And then that nagging issue of telepathy always gave my kind an unfair advantage over humans, since we could quite literally out think them at all times. That in itself was enough to turn me away, for him, if not for me. My hand touched the pearls which were hidden beneath the soft, worn fabric of my sweatshirt. I could feel the nubby texture as I caressed them, almost like worry beads.

  Kipp, following me in his constant way, stood and walked over to put his head in my lap. With practiced fingers, I gently stroked the top of his head and the large, upright ears. He was so much a part of me that I knew I could recognize him by just the unique feel of his fur against my fingertips. Turning his head, his eyes met mine, and I felt him touch my mind in a soft caress, the mark of a friend who could h
eal me when none other could.

  "Will Peter and I share the kind of closeness that you and Petra have?" Elani asked, tilting her pretty head to one side. She stood and walked over to Peter, placing her head on his knee.

  "Yes," Kipp answered. "It comes with time and patience. When you put yourself in the hands of your partner and trust that one with your life and well-being, you will find what you seek. Each time you time shift, it gets nearer."

  Peter cleared his throat and seemed a little uncomfortable with the general tone of the conversation, which had descended to deep levels; he rose to clear the table. I had no partiality to washing dishes and was completely comfortable sitting back and letting him keep busy. Actually, I understood. We had another time shift planned for that day, and he was nervous. Cooking and clearing away the debris was part of his way of coping.

  "So what's on for today?" he finally asked. His dark eyes were guarded, as if he knew he appeared vulnerable and had no wish to do so.

  "Well, we will make a shift and go back, uh, to roughly 1950 and then return. Our main focus will be on accuracy." I sipped my now cool coffee and made a face at the horrible taste. "And this time, instead of following Kipp and me, we will follow you."

  Peter glanced at Elani, who again drew close so that he could caress her soft head. She was massive, as were all lupines, but she definitely was all girl and projected her feminine aura just as Kipp did his masculine side. The blonde tips of the hairs on her coat looked as if they were ignited, flashing fire, despite the low lighting in the room. She looked up at him with her deep brown eyes.

  "We're ready, Peter. You know we are." She lolled her tongue out in the familiar lupine version of a smile.

  Just because I was a creature of habit, I returned to my room, made up the bed and completed a quick survey to make certain I'd left nothing strewn around carelessly. One never knew if one would return successfully, and I hated to leave a mess behind for someone else to clean. Just as I did at home, I took a quick walk through of the kitchen to wordlessly inspect Peter's kitchen. He was so superior to me in that aspect of life that I wisely kept my mouth shut and offered no commentary. Back in the small living area, Peter and Elani were seated, cross legged on the worn, round braided rug where we'd played Scrabble the night before; the fire had died overnight, with only a few glowing embers winking at us from the ash pile. Kipp waited for me, his tail wagging like a flag, excited and ready. I took my place next to him, and he lay down, placing his head in my lap.

  At my direction, Peter and Elani began to concentrate on the year 1950, which was an arbitrary choice but not too distant in the past that our clothing would be completely inappropriate. True, I would not be wearing a dress and heels–I was wearing my pearls, however—but I didn't think my fashion errors would draw untoward attention in the event we encountered any humans. With their permission, we marginally entered into the experience of Peter and Elani. I felt myself smile as I shared their joy and excitement at the rushing sensation which, by now, was old hat to me but still new, like a bright, shiny coin, to them. As they fell into the dark vortex of time, Kipp and I followed, happy to ride the time continuum wake and let someone else take the lead for once.

  Time travel is never exact, and somehow we ended up about fifty yards from the cabin in the midst of a driving rain storm. Peter looked up at me, mud covered from where he and Elani had landed in a ditch. The expression of total chagrin was priceless, and I had to laugh, along with Kipp. I was quickly becoming soaked by a cold, wet rain but at least was not plastered with mud.

  Holding out my arms, I said rather loudly to be heard over the rainfall, "Sometimes you land hard, Peter!"

  He quickly rediscovered his good nature and laughed in response. All four of us felt a need to hurry, considering the weather, and made haste to the cabin, which we hoped would be empty. As we drew closer, we collectively threw out our telepathic nets and were gratified to sense that no one was present. Our time shift had taken us from bright daylight to darkest night, and we trudged along, struggling to see past the pelting rain, waiting for an idle lightening flash to illuminate the distance ahead. Fortunately, Kipp and Elani had the superior vision of lupines and guided our progress. I felt pretty lucky to only fall once, managing to soar spread eagled, until I hit the ground with a resounding thump. Kipp darted to my side, his anxious muzzle poking in the back of my neck. After I caught my breath, I allowed Peter to help me up.

  "Sometimes you land hard, Petra," he wise cracked, trying not to smile but failing.

  By the time we reached the cabin, which was shrouded in darkness, we were drenched. Cautiously, we made our way up the neglected drive, where the branches of large shrubs and overgrown trees threatened to close the pathway. It seemed nothing much had changed over the years. Another flash of lightening forked across the sky; overhead, the tree limbs snapped back and forth, driven into a fury by an angry wind.

  "Kipp?" I asked, wanting to make certain we wouldn't walk in on a person who might be armed with a shotgun on the other side of the door.

  He stood for a minute, his ears flattened by the rain. Once, he looked up at me and wagged his tail; I realized he was enjoying our soggy adventure. But he agreed—no unwanted visitors ahead, and we moved to the porch, which creaked with loose boards underfoot. It was odd how we'd left this cabin just a few minutes ago only to return and find the structure similar but with enough changes to draw our attention. For example, the front porch lacked the rusted metal glider and, instead, featured a couple of worn wooden rocking chairs. At the far end, a swing gently moved to and fro, the chains creaking from the rafter overhead where it was tethered. Peter looked at me and the reality of what we were doing seemed to finally have sunk in. Eager to see inside, he tried the door, which was locked. Persistence paid off, however, and he finally found a window in the rear that was open a crack, and he managed to jimmy it up and climb inside. Within a minute, he had the front door open, and the three of us rushed inside as the wind began to blow harder, sideways, engulfing us with rain spray beneath the relative shelter of the porch.

  Inside, the differences between what we'd left and what we encountered was even more profound. A tattered camelback sofa, stuffed with feathers and with decorative button ticking, sat angled near the rock fireplace. There was little else in the room with the exception of a square oak table with legs that ended in claws fiercely clutching little glass balls that rested delicately on the scarred floor. I walked to the kitchen to find there were no modern appliances; an old fashioned pump for water was secured to a heavy board that ran alongside a chipped cast iron sink. Above the sink a calendar hung from a nail; the date was 1950, and various local hardware stores as well as a five and dime were advertised on the pages. Peter followed me, and I turned to smile at his expression of wonder.

  "I guess we really did it," he finally uttered. Elani, at his side, looked up at him, her tail wagging so furiously that her entire rear end shimmied.

  "Well, this calendar could have been hanging here for a number of years, so we can't be certain, but we'll take it as a good omen. I know from the history of this cabin, that a symbiont pair lived here for many years, but they died a long time ago. Technicorps just held on to the property thinking it would make a good getaway when needed." I sighed and looked around. "We could just as easily have gone back to meet the couple that lived here, but such travel is ill advised."

  Peter looked at me quizzically, but my attention was diverted as Kipp tilted his head slightly before turning towards the door. Elani did the same as her coat dripped water on the bare wood planks.

  "A vehicle is coming up the drive," Kipp announced just before the glare of headlights reflected through the front window onto the wall.

  "Let's beat it!" I said, not wanting the drama of getting caught and having to explain our presence. No doubt the local sheriff made rounds of abandoned properties to make certain vagrants were not present. Without an ID or anything else, Peter and I would definitely be classified as p
otential trouble and would be hauled off.

  The four of us went to the small rear bedroom and began our preparations, as Peter and I sat on the floor, our partners close by. One would think that the pressure of feeling hurried might have impeded our work, but it really didn't at all. Peter, showing a focus and leadership quality that was amazing for one so young, led the way. Kipp only had to soar in once on our trip forward in time to help Peter and Elani make as accurate a return as was possible. I don't think I could have done any better. We checked the time, since I'd left my watch behind, and we arrived only five minutes after we'd departed. And instead of landing in the living room, we were inexplicably in the kitchen. I looked over at Peter, who was crusted in mud, his hair plastered down in wet spikes on his forehead. Elani looked just about as rough, her pretty gray and blonde tipped fur was splotched with large patches of brown mud with the consistency of pudding. She and Kipp both reeked of wet dog, and although I tried to nab that thought and hide it from Kipp, he latched onto it with vigor.

  "Well, I didn't mention that you stink, too," he said, flaring his nostrils slightly. "You should have taken a bath last night but fell asleep. You didn't brush your teeth this morning and your breath smells like a dirty sock." He was glaring at me now.

  "Sorry," I muttered, not knowing what else to say.

  "And I have to sleep with you, too," Kipp went on, not finished yet.

  "Really sorry," I said, managing to stand despite the crick in my back. Was I getting too old for the rambunctious nature of time shifts, I wondered? Maybe it was a game for youth. With my right hand, I rubbed my left wrist which was still sore despite the fact I'd long ago abandoned the air cast. Kipp saw the gesture and reminded himself that he couldn't be angry at me for long; he loved me despite my multitude of flaws.